[ Now that’s the look of the man he had imagined, when Chisolm sent him out on the start of his fool’s errand, and that was the man he met in the little saloon, who laughed heartily and freely. Is this the real Robicheaux, or is this the mask?

Faraday supposes it doesn’t really matter which side is real, so long as one of those sides does what needs to be done, rides out with the rest of them to failure or success. Whatever the outcome of the upcoming brawl, Faraday knows only that it’s bound to be bloody, and that they’re going to need every man they’ve got.

At the invitation, Faraday trudges over, thumbs hooked into the gun belt hanging from his hips, moving to Robicheaux’s side. He mulls over the question, casting the other man a sidelong glance and a wry sort of smile. ]

That's a hell of a name. “Man of mystery.”

[ He lets the title hang in the air for a moment, the crackling of the fire filling the silence, before he shrugs a shoulder. ]

Ain’t much of a mystery, though. We crossed paths, me ‘n’ Chisolm, and he did me a good turn. Been in his debt ever since.

[ A pause, as he frowns down at the fire. ] Not entirely sure when I’ll ever have that debt paid off, but there it is.