Comfortable Together

[groupon]

COMFORTABLE TOGETHER. shipping (?) meme Can you ever get a moment of peace? You're never able to relax around people; instead, you're constantly on edge, with the very presence of others feeling somewhere between grating and unsettling. Or, at least, that's how it used to feel, like you were about to fall off that edge at any moment. But not any more. You've found the one person you enjoy spending time with and can be comfortable around. What are they to you? A lot. More than you can say. Still, you don't see the need for labels. Both of you are just enjoying being here together. It's that easy. It's that comfortable. They're one steady point in this crazy world, and you never have to put on airs around them. Whether you need someone to comfort you, decompress or share hobbies with or simply offer a shoulder to lean on in silence, relax. They've got you covered, and, for once, you don't have to keep your walls up. Take the edge off. Comment with your character, preferences, info, desired role, etc. Reply to others and thread.

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[sixpoundspressure]

[ She can look at him with all the ire she cares to muster and glare him six feet under for all he cares. A creature of habit he is, even if it is of a bad sort, and playing his cards close to his chest is one of the many he has. The weight of each peacemaker feels a little heavier then, especially the one on the right, and he resists the urge to reach out and cradle the pearl handle. It's a reflex, not a nervous habit, the same way a person speaks softly at a skittish horse. ]

You asked for guns for hire, you didn't ask to dredge up our life stories along with it. Mine's a sorry one at any rate, and I ain't lookin' for any kind of sympathy.

[ He says long gone for a reason. It implies leaving. Makes it seem as though his card tricks, propensity to drink near constantly, and his philandering would have caused a rift that would require a woman to put her foot down about it. Maybe it is a little for his own sake. Easier to think of distance as something that can be rectified rather than dirt. ]

Disagree all you like. There aren't any pearly gates waitin' for me at the end of everything. Suppose the best I can hope for is a ride out with Jack, and a slow trot with the devil by my side on the way down.

[ He knows the burning fire of wanting righteousness but being willing to take revenge. He knows what it is to bury the other half of your soul and more besides. But that cross is miles behind him in a place he won't ever return to. He keeps it at his back, and keeps on moving, drifting like dust kicked up before a storm.

One day that storm is like to catch up with him. Maybe tomorrow, in fact. ]

[eightx]

[ Now her expression softens. It’s difficult not to feel some kind of sympathy for a man who believes that redemption will never be in the cards for him. Faraday was a sadder character than she’d originally thought. At first she’d only been irritated with him for their personal differences, for the way he’d failed to get on with Teddy, but with time other feelings developed. Respect, mostly, but most recently this strange sympathy tinged with sadness. He wasn’t the best of men, but he deserved to feel like he had something to look forward to.

It made her wonder what could have possibly be making him feel such a way. That curiosity she’d deemed unimportant just a moment ago is coming back with a vengeance, so much that it’s getting more and more difficult to fight it. Finally, she just asks… ]

What could you possibly have done to be beyond redemption?

[ All the drinking and gambling in the world can’t keep a man out of Heaven if he does the right thing and has a good heart, she thinks to herself. Of course, she can’t really say she can see Faraday’s heart. She doesn’t really think she’ll ever get a chance to get so much as a glimpse. After tomorrow, one way or another, he’ll be gone. Emma isn’t really certain how she feels about that. ]

You’re doing a good, brave thing for a town you have no connection to. Yes, there’s pay. Yes, you’re settling a debt. You’re also risking your life. That’s no small matter, Mr. Faraday.

[ Do her words bring him any peace? She wants them to. There’s a determination about it. Instead of wishing him comfort she’s almost angry that he doesn’t feel it, angry that he doesn’t see in himself what she sees. That anger, though, remains below the surface for now. His comments have tamed the fire for the moment. ]

[sixpoundspressure]

[ The softening of her expression causes his normally unwavering gaze to shutter and he looks away first. It sinks in his gut like losing a gun fight, and causes his throat to swell with something unnamed that makes it hard to swallow down. Teddy was a good kid, but he wasn't a killer. He may well prove Joshua wrong tomorrow. He hopes so. There aren't many of the townsfolk like to make it out the other side of this.

This means don't shoot. A light-hearted joke told at the expense of a sip of whiskey to swallow down a memory of his own. For a moment he thinks of saying that he'll tell her if they make it through this tomorrow. It'd require a miracle and a half to do as much, he's sure, so he wouldn't end up owing her an explanation anyway.]

Steppin' out on a good woman, fallin' for another, and failin' both in ways that can't be undone.

[ No, it's like that the drinking and gambling would never have been what did him in when it came to the hereafter. But his failings as a husband that ended up come to bloodshed and a quicker draw than he had been--- He learned from his mistake, on the draw part at any rate, and made sure to never be second best if he could help it.

But when the dust settled in a town that he's drunk away the memory of the name of---Grief makes a person go all funny in the head, he reckons. Leastways it's what it did to him after. Revenge didn't do anything to ease his conscience or clean his hands. ]

It wouldn't matter how large of a matter you'd care to make all of this into.

[ His hand finally slides down to his right holster, non-threatening, just to brush a thumb over the handle. A namesake, now, is the closest he'll ever be to his ladies. It ain't close enough by far. ]

[eightx]

[ Matters of the heart are always complicated, and Emma tries not to judge, but all she can think of is how she would have felt if Matthew had left her high and dry for someone else. She feels more sympathy for the women Faraday speaks of than Faraday himself, but he obviously feels something from what he did. Is it regret? Maybe. It’s hard to say. Try as she might, Emma finds him hard to read. She can tell, though, that there are layers to him beyond what she can see. ]

Do you think either of them might forgive you?

[ No, she doesn’t realize just how out of the picture the women who were so important to him are. Emma pictures them as sitting in their homes, heartbroken and alone and maybe a little bitter. In her mind Faraday can still right his mistakes. She’s not naive, she’s only missing a few pieces of the puzzle. Had she been better informed things would be different. Much different.

Grief is the main force driving Emma these days. She knows what it’s like to lose part of your heart, thanks to Bogue’s cruelty. It’s funny. She’d been looking for common ground with Faraday in hopes that they wouldn’t clash so terribly in the days leading up to the melee, but this wasn’t what she had in mind. She still has no idea they even share this. ]

It matters.

[ Emma’s stubborn streak has a tendency to reveal itself whenever she’s challenged. Faraday can insist that his being in Rose Creek for the battle is small potatoes and all that will result in is Emma firing back with double the force insisting the opposite. ]

It matters to me and every other soul you’re standing up for tomorrow.

[sixpoundspressure]

[ Leaving ain't a thing that he'd done. He'd snuck out and around and met up with someone that wasn't his wife. Someone who had their eye on the same woman took offense to it, and decided to take matters into his own hands. He gives a soft huff at her question, and looks back up to meet her gaze. ]

Ain't no forgiveness going to come up out of the dirt.

[ Said plain enough now as to not have his meaning misconstrued. There isn't any forgiveness to be had for him. There isn't any way to make it right. Even if he's doing a good thing here, it don't matter much. ]

It may matter here to you, and those people out there scared out of their minds. But it don't change what happens the day I face judgement, and I ain't lookin' for it to.

[eightx]

[ The words hit her hard. She can almost feel them physically colliding with her chest like a punch or a kick. Instantly she regrets turning over that particular stone. After Matthew’s burial a woman tried to console Emma, but Emma found that talking about grief isn’t as soothing or as comforting as it’s supposed to be. Sometimes it’s exactly the opposite, like tonguing a cut in your mouth so much that it keeps from healing. ]

I’m sorry.

[ She says it, and the words aren’t empty. It’s not some meaningless response tossed out on reflex just because he’s telling a sad story. Emma is sorry. She’s sorry he’s heartbroken, that he lost the two women he cared about, and most of all she’s sorry that she tore open this old wound of his. It’s not as if she had any malicious intent, but she does feel responsible.

Suddenly, it doesn’t matter to her so much that he was a cheater. What matters is that he lost someone. No venial sin warrants that kind of hurt. She wonders if he felt worse than she did after losing her husband given that he not only lost one woman, but the woman he was seeing on the side. She wonders how it happened, how he had the rotten luck of losing them both, but she doesn’t dare ask. ]

You’re so stubborn. Can’t you accept that you might be wrong?

[ Her tone is firm, but quieter now. Emma is a stubborn woman and she’ll remain a stubborn woman until her dying day, but she also knows when to show a little softness. While she refuses to accept his opinion of himself as the correct one, she’ll be a little gentler about arguing against it. ]

[sixpoundspressure]

[ Talking about grief doesn't do anything but make others feel self-important, he finds. Not that he is accusing her of any such thing, but people ingratiate themselves so that they can take part. Funerals, he also finds are more for the living than they are the dead, it is why he ain't ever gone back to those crosses he left behind. There ain't any cause for him to. ]

You didn't do anything. Askin' ain't a crime, and what happened then is on me.

[ He knows the words aren't empty, but they tug at a hole in his chest he thought long filled in. Maybe caved in. Something. Heartbroken isn't something he considers himself to be, but then he's never considered it longer than the space it took to down a swallow of whiskey. ]

Think you best look to yourself you wanna call someone stubborn. [ It isn't full of ire or anything, but a small amount of amusement in an otherwise all too somber conversation. ] Blood don't clean off near so easy as folk are like to think. I was inclined once to believe in fairy stories. Got dealt a different hand.

[eightx]

It is?

[ She wants to take the words back right after she asks the question. Emma has said enough, asked enough, and has already stirred up far too much. Shaking her head, she sighs. ]

It’s none of my business.

[ It’s not going back in time and taking back her words, but she hopes it’ll have the same effect. Emma might be a bit of a troublemaker, but she’s no gossip. She’s never been the sort of woman who hones in on people in conversations, hungry for every single personal detail. There’s a difference between showing interest in a person and snooping and she finds snooping to be repugnant.

When he calls her stubborn, though, the mood is lifted slightly and she lets out a tiny huff that’s close to being a laugh. She almost smiles at him for a second there. ]

Might be stubborn, but sometimes you have to fight fire with fire.

[ She props her elbow up on the table, just eyeing him for a second. ]

What makes you think the days ahead won’t be better than the ones you’ve left behind?

[ It’s a strange question to ask given what they’re about to do come morning, but should they survive it’s absolutely a valid question. Emma considers her own bleak moments when she’s thought that nothing will ever be good again with Matthew gone. Maybe it’s the same for Faraday. Maybe she should be asking herself that question. ]

[sixpoundspressure]

[ Joshua bites the inside of his cheek until he can taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth. He never took the fiery woman for a gossip or anything of that sort, and no, it isn't any of her business. It doesn't stop him from speaking, and he wonders why that is. It isn't as if anyone is ever gonna tell his sad story. It isn't as if he ever wanted them to, but there's something cathartic to it that he can't name.

As if admitting his faults and folly to her are the closest he'll get to whatever pearly gate the rest of these poor townfolk are gonna see tomorrow. Maybe if they get past St. Peter and see his old girls---maybe they can tell them that he tried. He may not have been perfect, but he tried. He loved. He lost more than most will ever lay their eyes on.

But he tried. ]

Ethel was my wife. [ He says it, pouring out two shots of whiskey as he breaks the silence, and slides one over to the opposite chair in a silent invitation to her. Is it foolish to drink heavy the evening before they all ride out to meet the devil in his skin suit? Surely might be, but he doesn't plan on doing it any other way. ] Maria was a woman in town, came out against the odds, wasn't anyone's but herself's, and gambled on the dust of the trail. She had many an eye on her that wasn't mine, but only one that decided he should take issue with that fact.

Man puts his hands in the air, it means don't shoot. It don't mean shit when one decides to take something out of a jealous fit. Maria wouldn't have him, and she was the first cross. He came to take it out on me and mine for his trouble, and my Ethel was the second.

I put him in the ground and nobody gave him a cross. [ He supposes he'll see him when he rides on down to hell also. ] All my good days are buried underfoot.

[eightx]

[ Emma takes the shot in her hand, turning the glass around in her hand as she listens to Joshua’s story. As she listens she starts to understand why he lives the way he does. She can’t help but think that the load he bears on his shoulders must be damned near unendurable. It’s something the two of them share, having lost people they care about, only he carries with him the burden of having taken a life. Emma doesn’t think she’d mind carrying around the burden of having killed Bogue, though. In fact, Faraday’s story only makes her want to put a bullet in that evil man’s heart even more. ]

I truly am sorry.

[ She takes a moment’s pause and then tips back the shot, swallowing the shot and closing her eyes as she feels it burning down her throat. A sigh escapes her lips and she looks ahead once more, a sad look on her face. ]

Sometimes I think that’ll be my fate, as well. I like to think Bart Bogue being six feet under will bring me some peace, at least.

[ There’s a short silence and Emma looks Faraday over carefully. She wonders what’s going on in his mind, every thought that’s darting through his mind on that night before they could all be going to their deaths. ]

Did that man’s death bring you any peace?

[ Emma thinks she knows the answer and she already doesn’t like it, but she asks anyway, thinking that maybe he’ll give a different one. It’s a chance she’ll take. As long as they’re both here in this saloon, they might as well keep talking, baring their souls until they either get too tired to continue or until dawn breaks. ]

[sixpoundspressure]

[ Joshua can count on one hand the number of people he has ever told this story to. That is if he doesn't count the little town he left in the dust where those crosses stick up out of the dirt. People are like to think that it is easy to put a finger to metal and pull a trigger. That it is easy to make a person be not there anymore, but it ain't.

He waits until she apologizes, offering a half shrug in response, and downs his own shot easy. He sets the shot glass down, staring at the bit of residue on the sides, and tries not to think about older memories that will do little to serve him in the coming hours. Most people offer platitudes. They say that it ain't right to think a certain way, and better days surely are ahead.

He thinks it's a bunch of horse shit, personally. So, he ain't one to comment on what her fate may or may not be after all this. ]

No. No, it didn't. I've never known it to do such a thing for anyone. Just leaves a hole that nothing fills. Not drink or food or dirt. Just get to a point where you learn to walk around with that hole.

[eightx]

[ In spite of everything Faraday has just said, Emma still clings to the hope that killing Bogue will bring her peace of mind. She knows it won’t bring Matthew back, won’t make things better, but maybe for one fleeting moment she’ll feel satisfied. That’ll be enough for her, but will it be enough in the big picture or will it only be enough for tomorrow?

From what Faraday has said, it sounds like she’ll never truly be satisfied. He certainly doesn’t sound satisfied with his piece of revenge.

What good is revenge if it doesn’t bring you peace? Will she ever be happy again? Will Faraday? She ponders these questions.

Emma looks at him for a long second, then slides her hand over to him, taking his in hers and giving it a brief squeeze speaking volumes without saying a word. It’s as if to say that she understands, and she thinks she does, or at least she soon will.

Just a second later, though, she releases his hand and lets her hand drift back over to her part of the table. Too long a touch would be make things awkward and that’s the last thing she wants in this moment. ]

[sixpoundspressure]

[ Who knows, maybe her revenge will do more for her than it did for him. Maybe the fact that she first would have asked for righteousness before revenge means something more. Joshua never looked for anything but blood after losing what he did. He sought blood, and took a son and brother away from a family.

Not the first brother he'd taken, even if other times he may have been defending himself. Likely won't be the last, come sunrise tomorrow. Bad men as they may be, they had lives and families likely, but nobody likes to discuss such things when it comes down to it. He keeps his own mouth shut about it.

Maybe he never found any peace cause he wasn't righteous when he came for that pound of flesh. He already had a fair amount of sinning on his soul, and this was a part of that punishment before he left this world. He's gone back to staring at an empty shot glass, one hand idly tapping out a nonsensical tune on the whiskey bottle, but that all stops when he feels a smaller hand take his own.

It takes a fair few seconds for him to register that Emma is holding his hand, squeezing it to pass on something---like solidarity he imagines. Last time he held a woman's hand like that for any amount of time---well. She lets go before his mind can finish the train of thought fully, but he does fleetingly think that Emma's hand are warm where Ethel's weren't.

His response is a tip of the bottle to refill both shot glasses. ]

Don't matter none.