First Casualty--Jess/Anthony

[emiliaalexander]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i56.tinypic.com/2zgu9hc.jpg); width: 440px; padding-top:10px;] The first person I call is you --- Inside the race barn, temperamental Thoroughbreds were a constant sight; pacing their stalls, watching outside inquisitively. But from the depths of the shadows in one of the stalls, a pair of ominous pale blue eyes glared out from beneath a jet black forelock; a sharp contrast from the jet black Medaglia d'Oro and Shes a Devil Due colt who snaked his head out, threatening whoever passed with bared, gaping teeth and ears that were glued to his dark skull. There was a set of footsteps, however, that he recognised, and the ears just barely lifted off his head, nostrils fluttering in an almost silent whicker. That was about as friendly as the Devil colt would get, however, and Emilia Alexander recognised that as she approached his stall. "Hello to you, too, Grumpy," Emilia grinned, lifting a hand tentatively at first as though to assess his mood, then ran her hand along Dee's long, sculpted head. Emilia was more than pleased with Dee's progress, and now that he placed so well in Louisiana with Anthony Lovasz as his jockey. Now that she saw how well he did, Emilia wanted to talk to Anthony about his future riding Diablo, hoping that she would find the jockey somewhere in the race barn. tag: Jess/Anthony word count: --- lyric credit: Silent Witness notes:

credit to BABY DARLING ! @ caution 2.0

[Anthony James Lovasz]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: f9f9f9; border: #8b908a solid 10px; width: 450px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] i've been waking all my life tagged tags words words muse muse notes notes credits template by irish! Horse racing was not a sport for the weak of heart. Most spectators had absolutely no idea how bloody the sport could be... mostly on the part of the riders. In general, people didn't realize that any successful jockey was more than likely held together with plates and screws and all other manners of surgical repairs for broken bones. It was often said that if a rider hadn't ever been seriously injured, he probably wasn't worth putting on your horse. They had to be fearless. They had to be willing to climb up on a rocket with a mind of its own that was going to take off like it'd been shot straight out of hell, and they had to have the insane courage to get back on every time they got hurt, even if it nearly killed them. For most jockeys, it was perfectly normal to ride the day after a doctor told them to take three months off. Anthony was no exception to this rule. He couldn't count the number of bones he'd broken, the number of horses that had thrown him, and he certainly couldn't remember how many times he'd been run over. It was just natural to him to let those things slip his mind. Today was another one of those days that he would probably have forgotten all about by the next morning. As he was walking up to the barn, it wasn't hard to tell from his appearance what sort of ride he'd just had on the large frothing chestnut dancing beside him. He was muddy from head to toe, the jacket he wore had a large tear in the sleeve, and through the mud a bit of blood could be seen seeping through. In his free hand, he held his helmet, which had been effectively smashed in, presumably by a flying hoof, or perhaps the rail, he wasn't quite sure what exactly had struck him, but whatever it had been, it hit pretty hard. Despite all this, however, he still had this boyish grin on his face, as if he couldn't possibly have been any more thrilled to have been thrown off of his horse. Generally, this was his usual look. Most of the time, it was a miracle if he went two days without being thrown from a horse. Every time he moved to a new place, it took a bit of time before everyone got used to it and stopped asking him if he was alright. They usually learned quite quickly that his response would almost always be "Why? Is something wrong?" Then there were the occasional new riders and trainers and such who weren't accustomed to seeing someone looking like they'd just walked out of the Rambo movie, who just had to ask. Generally after the first (or sometimes the second) time, they learned and didn't ask again. He was a rather predictable individual. Anthony strode casually through the barn and backed the horse up into the wash rack cross-ties before fetching a towel and wiping the mud off of his face. For the most part, the horse, known as Huck, was fairly clean except for his legs and belly from kicking up mud, but the sweat and froth was caked up on his entire body, and not just from running. It was no secret that Huck was a bit of a handful, to say the least. Standing still was not in his nature, and getting him to run in a straight line was nearly impossible. He spent more time rearing and spinning and bucking than he did actually running, but that was what Anthony liked about him. Odds were, he'd never really turn into a decent racehorse, but that wasn't going to stop Anthony from riding him. The way he saw it, the large horse kept him on his toes, and gave him something to do should he ever have a lull in his schedule. There wasn't much he liked better than a horse that was a challenge, and Huck was certainly that and then some.

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[emiliaalexander]

Having been stroking the Devil's blade-like face, Emilia had him calm for the most part up until they both heard a horse coming up the aisle. Dee's ears slammed down against his skull and he charged the door with a crash, teeth bared and causing Emilia to jump back in alarm at the violent mood swing. At the same time, Emilia was very used to Diablo's erratic behaviour. Glancing over, she looked to see what or who had set her black colt off, knowing it could have been so much as a leave blowing in a direction Dee didn't like. Sure enough, it was the man Emilia was looking for, and she recognised the chestnut he was holding to a degree. She had never seen the horse on the track but he raised quite a bit of ruckus sometimes in the barn. Emilia jumped on her chance.

"Mr. Lovasz--" Emilia faltered for a moment when coming upon his appearance but quickly recollected herself. She fought the immediate urge to ask if he was alright. He appeared to be up and walking around no problem, if not looking like he was just dragged across the final stretch of the track by one of his mounts. It wouldn't have surprised her. Jockeys took quite a beating from their mounts; and Emilia was well aware of Anthony Lovasz's reputation for taking on the more difficult horses, so the odds of him having been thrown were quite likely. "Hi, Emilia Alexander. I believe we've met a few times at races. You've been riding my colt Diablo d'Oro for his past two races. I was hoping to talk to you about him; did I catch you at a bad time?"

Her words became a bit tentative. She was sure Anthony had his hands full with the colt he was holding. She didn't want to complicate things for him. Working with racehorses, ever little second counted with one's attention. An accident could always occur in a time frame of a few seconds if not careful.

[Anthony James Lovasz]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: f9f9f9; border: #8b908a solid 10px; width: 450px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] i've been waking all my life tagged tags words words muse muse notes notes credits template by irish! Anthony had just pulled the saddle off of his horse when he heard someone refer to him as Mr. Lovasz. While he wasn't going to correct her or pull a "Mr. Lovasz was my father" line, he certainly would have preferred to be called by his first name. He wouldn't be bothered by it, though. He was rarely, if ever, bothered by anything. When he looked over at her to see who he was speaking to, he recognized her almost immediately. It was hard to forget the woman who owned the "devil horse." Not that Anthony thought he was the devil horse, considering that he had ridden many a far worse horse in his earlier years of racing on the barbaric tracks in Mexico where you were considered lucky just to make it all the way around from start to finish, but since his name contained "Diablo" it was only natural for him to refer to the black colt as the devil horse. He knew many others called Dee the devil horse as well, but for entirely different reasons. Most people were afraid of him. Anthony was not. Ironically, he was less afraid of the horse that wanted to kill him than he was of the doctors who wanted to help him. He would sooner be locked in a stall with Dee on a bad day with no way to escape than to walk into a hospital with an injury. "Of course," He said with a smile when she introduced herself, "I could not forget you." Typically, outside of the racing world, Anthony could not remember names or titles or anything of that sort of people, but as long as he could associate their face with a horse, he could remember. Emilia he associated with Dee, of course. "Now is fine." He said, jerking one hand off of the saddle he was holding to smack away the snaking head that moved towards him with teeth barred, while never breaking eye contact with Emilia as he did so. He knew Huck's routine well enough to know that any time both of his hands were occupied, that the horse would take it as an opportunity to bite, but he could easily be deterred with a quick whack. "He could stand to have a lesson in patience. He can wait a bit." Anthony definitely took a very lax approach to his own horse's training. He really did not expect Huck to ever be able to race, for many reasons, so he just let the training take its own course. With the other horses that he rode, it was entirely different. Those horses had deadlines and goals and it was his job to enture that they were met. He took that very seriously, and that was why he was so good at what he did. No matter how beat up he got or how little he was paid, his quality of service never changed. He rode every race and every workout like it could be his last, the one by which he would be remembered, because he knew all too well that it very well could be exactly that.

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[emiliaalexander]

Emilia was beginning to see more and more just why people with aggressive and dominant racehorses hired Anthony Lovasz as their jockey as she watched him smack the muzzle of the horse threatening to bite without even skipping a beat. Her brows rose slightly, unable to help but grin when he spoke.

"Brilliant. Well, I wanted to speak with you regarding Dee. I was really impressed with how you handled him and with his placing, you rode a great race." She said, glancing over at Dee, who glowered at the both of them and the horse Anthony had in the wash rack. "I know he's not the easiest horse to handle, though then again I know you're no stranger to difficult horses."

She cast a glance at the tall chestnut in the wash rack and could guess that the animal was probably just as ornery as Dee. It was just all the more reassuring and convinced Emilia that he was the guy for the job. If he could handle her horse and his own that was similar, Emilia wanted him for the job.

"Anyway, I wanted to ask you if you'd be interested in being Dee's regular jockey. It tells me something when he's not trying to kill the person he's around." She added with a grin, partially joking but it was also somewhat true. From what she had seen, Dee abused and ambushed Anthony far less than his other grooms and handlers. Even poor Darius had been on the receiving end of his assaults on the occasion.