Faraday's own hand is another flop, and normally his control was such that it wouldn't show on his face. Now, though, without any money on the line, he openly frowns down at it in distaste exchanges everything but the two high cards for new ones – which result in little more.
"These cards are shit," he announces without shame during the showdown, tossing them away in a sort of good-natured exasperation. "Pretty sure Teddy Q put a hex on 'em."
He follows Billy's gaze to Goody's room, and while Billy takes the lack of activity as a possibly bad sign, Faraday assumes it has to be good. Folks running around like chickens without heads was always worse than the calm that seems to have taken over Goodnight's room. Had to be, Faraday figured.
Billy's story about the constellations is far more sentimental that he expected to hear, and Faraday blinks at the man – not because the story surprises him, but because he's surprised Billy shared it with him in the first place. It's a different sort of story than what he usually shared with Faraday – hell, than what anyone usually shared with Faraday – and the gambler has to wonder if Billy is sharing it freely, or if he's sharing it because Faraday is acting as Goodnight's stand-in for the night.
The follow up question makes Faraday snort, and he slouches a little in his chair, the wood creaking as it settles.
"For comfort, you mean?" He smiles, lifting his good shoulder in a shrug. "Most of the time, yeah. I drink. Or I find a nice lady to while away the time."
Neither of those things are particularly comforting, mind, but they do at least distract him well enough.
Faraday falls silent for a brief second before he nods over to Goodnight's window.
no subject
"These cards are shit," he announces without shame during the showdown, tossing them away in a sort of good-natured exasperation. "Pretty sure Teddy Q put a hex on 'em."
He follows Billy's gaze to Goody's room, and while Billy takes the lack of activity as a possibly bad sign, Faraday assumes it has to be good. Folks running around like chickens without heads was always worse than the calm that seems to have taken over Goodnight's room. Had to be, Faraday figured.
Billy's story about the constellations is far more sentimental that he expected to hear, and Faraday blinks at the man – not because the story surprises him, but because he's surprised Billy shared it with him in the first place. It's a different sort of story than what he usually shared with Faraday – hell, than what anyone usually shared with Faraday – and the gambler has to wonder if Billy is sharing it freely, or if he's sharing it because Faraday is acting as Goodnight's stand-in for the night.
The follow up question makes Faraday snort, and he slouches a little in his chair, the wood creaking as it settles.
"For comfort, you mean?" He smiles, lifting his good shoulder in a shrug. "Most of the time, yeah. I drink. Or I find a nice lady to while away the time."
Neither of those things are particularly comforting, mind, but they do at least distract him well enough.
Faraday falls silent for a brief second before he nods over to Goodnight's window.
"Looks like it's calmed down some."