At the mention of how long Cricket's had his nickname, Jasper tactlessly glances back down to the young fella's legs. Not pointedly, not as a joke or to be cruel, just in making what he thinks must be the connection before Cricket gets his own question in.
Jasper looks up again and smiles conspiratorially. He's no stranger to the fact that his name isn't all that common - just a couple of 'em around back home, far as he's aware, all old guys - or that it means other things in other places (and not all of them nice), but he can't be sure which thing it is that's prompting Cricket's question.
"Depends. You a cop?" He sniffs at his own bad joke. "Yep. Maybe shoulda got me a -- a nom de plume, but..." He shrugs an already-hunched shoulder, squinting up into the dark slope of trees. Too late for that now, Jasper; you're deep in it, name and all. "Way she goes."
There's a muffled curse from Guy, which briefly draws Jasper's attention away, but it looks like everything's fine -- must've just dropped something. He returns his attention to Cricket, then to the thermos on the truck roof -- he nods towards it. "Gonna steal another nip outta this if you don't mind." He reaches for it again, but doesn't pick it up straight away in case there's any objections. If not, he takes it. "Long fuckin' drive, I'll tell ya."
And the drive back will only be longer, both because of the extra weight and because of the danger they'll be in right up until they roll back into the garage. The curious part of him wishes they could at least stay a little while, learn a few things, but all he can do is make use of this lull.
"Ray says just about everybody in Franklin County is makin' this stuff." The moonshine, of course. Not the coffee. "Can't throw a rock without hittin' a still. Even the cops're involved. That true?"
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Jasper looks up again and smiles conspiratorially. He's no stranger to the fact that his name isn't all that common - just a couple of 'em around back home, far as he's aware, all old guys - or that it means other things in other places (and not all of them nice), but he can't be sure which thing it is that's prompting Cricket's question.
"Depends. You a cop?" He sniffs at his own bad joke. "Yep. Maybe shoulda got me a -- a nom de plume, but..." He shrugs an already-hunched shoulder, squinting up into the dark slope of trees. Too late for that now, Jasper; you're deep in it, name and all. "Way she goes."
There's a muffled curse from Guy, which briefly draws Jasper's attention away, but it looks like everything's fine -- must've just dropped something. He returns his attention to Cricket, then to the thermos on the truck roof -- he nods towards it. "Gonna steal another nip outta this if you don't mind." He reaches for it again, but doesn't pick it up straight away in case there's any objections. If not, he takes it. "Long fuckin' drive, I'll tell ya."
And the drive back will only be longer, both because of the extra weight and because of the danger they'll be in right up until they roll back into the garage. The curious part of him wishes they could at least stay a little while, learn a few things, but all he can do is make use of this lull.
"Ray says just about everybody in Franklin County is makin' this stuff." The moonshine, of course. Not the coffee. "Can't throw a rock without hittin' a still. Even the cops're involved. That true?"