( picture prompt meme )

[socketeer]

the picture prompt meme I — Comment with your character. II — Others will leave a picture (or two, or three...) III — Reply to them with a setting based on the picture. IV — Link to any pictures that are NSFW, please. V — Be aware that this meme will be image-heavy. Link to an image: <a href=IMAGEURL>TEXT</a> Embed image in your reply: <img src=IMAGEURL> Image width and height: <img src=IMAGEURL width=500> OR <img src=IMAGEURL height=INSERT>

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[peacemakers]

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.

"Looks like it's calmed down some."

[deadlyhairpin]

He looks over toward the window and, yes. It's still quiet. But he has no idea if that's a good sign or not. And acutely he resents everyone who'd kicked him out, before, and left him to guess about what shadows in a window could possibly signify. "Yeah," he agrees, tossing the cards away as he collects them all up and decides to give up on poker for a bit. He deals out two cards to Faraday instead, wanting something with addition involved so he could at least use a bit more of his mind. "21. Maybe your luck changes."

He gets a three and an four which would have been great for poker but sucks here. He pulls another card and gets a two, which is just adds to the straight he doesn't need anymore.

He takes a sip from his glass and refills it before giving it back to Faraday. They're emptying the bottle steadily, now. Which is good. It makes Billy feel a bit less edgy, even if it does absolutely nothing for the darkness of his thoughts. Leaning back, he taps his cards on the edge of his chair, face pensive.

"You know he lied, don't you? When we first spoke." He draws a card and God is laughing at him as he pulls an ace.

"We didn't meet the way Goody said we did. New story, each time someone asks. Lie every single time," he says, apropos of absolutely nothing. Really, he has no idea why he said it at all except maybe out of some need to fill the silence that Goody had always done for him. It's strange to not have him by his side. To not hear him flapping his lips and laughing and covering up for all of the silence Billy normally wrapped himself up in.

[peacemakers]

The change in games is a bit of a relief, considering his unlucky hands in their few rounds of poker. If that had been a real match, it would've been completely unacceptable, and if Faraday's hands were in top condition, he likely would've resorted to palming cards. Slipping away face cards for insurance.

Friendly game or no, he still had a reputation to maintain.

They continue on with 21, and while, he's familiar with the rules and likes it well enough, he never quite mastered it. He liked taking stupid risks too much, after all, which led to him busting more often than not.

Like he does now, trying his luck with a ten and a six and getting another eight for his efforts.

He takes the loss on the chin, though, which is made all the easier when Billy breaks the quiet to speak about Goodnight. He remembers that day in Volcano Springs – sort of. There was quite a lot of drinking involved, admittedly, but Faraday remembers Goodnight's story about a bounty and Billy taking on a room full of men.

"Well, the man wove a good story, I can give 'im that."

A look of open curiosity crosses Faraday's face, and he watches Billy for a second or two, before he decides to take his chances again.

"So how'd you really meet, then?"

[deadlyhairpin]

Billy glances up. With the next hand, he busts spectacularly, taking a risk on a card and pulling a king. He pushes them away and draws the next hand, but his attention isn't on it.

It's not really his story to tell. But if anyone would understand, strangely enough it would be Faraday. Faraday or Sam, really. The men had seen what happened to Goodnight when he held a gun. How he could shut down and give in to the howling voices of the ghosts in his mind. The hooting of the owl. He looks back over to Goody's room and all is still calm. He chooses to see that as a positive thing, this time. He needs to.

If he were dead, they would have all left, at least.

"We met in a bar," he starts, staring at his hand which is already a 17, but he doesn't really care. "He was a drunk. Told stories from the war for drinks. Every once in awhile found someone with a warrant more drunk than him that he could bring in. Mostly didn't bother." Billy draws a card, busts, and puts the hand away. Picks up the glass instead.

"I was there. Someone recognized me from my warrant." Because that part was true. Still was, he reckoned. It had been awhile since he worried about it. "Became a shoot out. Their friends against me. Whole bar just...shooting. I ducked behind the bar to get cover and...Goody was there."

He doesn't think he needs to say more. He is sure that the details are in the silence. The paleness of the man's face. The way he was whispering and hissing to himself as the gunshots ran out. Broken bottles making him twitch hard enough to come out of his skin. Eyes, sightless, seeing only demons nipping at his heels as he held a useless, unloaded gun.

"I cleaned up the bar. Killed the men and..." He's not sure why he did what he did next. Even to this day. If Faraday asks, he's going to have no answers for it; in the moment, it was just what he had to do. "I took him back to the room I had rented to see if he was okay. Didn't start travelling together, then. But that's how we met."

Billy drains the glass and refills it but doesn't offer it to Faraday.

"He's ashamed. So he makes stories up. Each time, different story. But I'm always some sort of hero in them. I guess that's how he pays me back."

[peacemakers]

Faraday keeps his silence while Billy speaks, watching the other man in the dim light from the saloon. This is more than he's ever heard the other man speak in their brief time knowing one another, and far more than he ever expected to hear in one sitting.

He fills in the blanks when Billy mentions Goodnight behind the bar in his story. He remembers that first day in Rose Creek vividly, shooting down men as they ran at Goodnight, who trembled and sweated as he backed away. Faraday had only seen that sort of look firsthand a few times, but he recognized it as soon as he saw it. A man in the throes of terror, enthralled by ghosts. He remembers standing over Goodnight's shoulder, watching him stare down the barrel of his rifle at a wounded, retreating man, urging him to shoot; he remembers that bitter pit of disappointment and resentment as Goodnight failed to take him out.

Weak, he remembers thinking. Pitiful. Cowardly.

Faraday glances up to the window, the stillness there. Goodnight had proven him wrong, in the end; seemed unfair that he was still paying the price for finding his courage, but then, when was anything in life ever fair?

"So how'd you decide to work together?" He collects up the cards, now that their game seems mostly forgotten. Just as well, he supposes, since neither of them were particularly concentrating on it. The paper rasps against his hands as he mixes them in that lazy overhand shuffle again. "If it weren't then, I mean."

[deadlyhairpin]

Billy's eyes are looking down at the wooden floorboards, distant as he recalls the past. "We kept running in the same areas. Same towns. We didn't talk much. I think Goody was still embarrassed and I had enough without bothering with another white man."

Little had he known how much this specific one would come to mean to him. If he could go back in time and tell himself...it would be worth it just to see the look on his own face.

"One town, someone challenged him to a shoot-out. And Goody accepted. As he always does." Billy could remember the look on his pale face as he shouldered the gun and exhaled for nearly a minute before finally taking the shot. "He won, of course. And the boy who'd been sure he was better got mad. Wanted to do it for real." Familiar story. Happened more times than he could count. But that one. That had been the first.

"I knew Goody couldn't pull the trigger against a person. So I stepped in. Said he was my master and would go in his place." Even now, saying the word brings a scowl to his face, but he'd done it. He never really knew why, but he'd done it all the same. "They let me, I won, and from that point on, we just rode together. I took his challenges, he made sure I could get a drink at the bar. Worked well."

He looks up toward the window.

"It's a good arrangement."

[peacemakers]

Faraday's eyebrows inch upward at the story. He doesn't think he'd ever be able to swallow his pride enough to tell a lie like that, to act as though someone else was his master. The look that crosses Billy's face tells Faraday that it was a difficult lie for the other man, too, but one that he admits to telling, all the same.

"Mighty kind of you."

A mild sort of observation, though Faraday knows there's far more beneath the surface.

"You two gonna go back to that, after all this?"

Because it's easier to ask in absolutes. Faraday has little doubt that Goodnight will recover, even if Billy seems to have his misgivings. Old bastard was obstinate, Faraday will give him that, and maybe it's that lingering awe of the Angel of Death, but close to recovery as Goodnight is, Faraday thinks he'll see it through. He'll come out weak and hurting, sure, but he'll get there, all the same.

[deadlyhairpin]

"I don't think so," he says honestly. And it's a light thing, almost like he's still considering it. But the hardness around his eyes as he pulls out a cigarette and lights it says his mind is made up. The package is held out toward Faraday as he inhales deeply and lets it go.

"If he makes it, he's going to need awhile to heal. I don't have an interest in pushing him on a horse and dragging him around the desert." But even after that, he has his reservations. They'd been exposed to a lot of gunfire, here. Nearly lost each other and their friends to boot. Goody had been injured enough to brush Death's own teeth; Billy is pretty sure that the next time a gun goes off near his friend, it's not going to go well. And he's not going to invite that back into their lives when they don't even need the money.

"What about you? What are you doing, after this?"

[peacemakers]

Faraday falls quiet, giving the question some thought. Admittedly, he knew in general terms what he intended to do. Wander off. Go from town to town. Win his money in cards and squander it all away on drinks and women.

Except there's something a little hollow in the idea, having come so close to ending up six feet under. And having enjoyed the other men's company all this time, Faraday finds himself almost a little reluctant to leave it all behind.

Not that he would ever admit that aloud. He knows eventually the seven of them will go their separate ways, and his wanderlust will lead him where it will. Until then, there's comfort in this strange sort of kinship, mismatched and volatile as the assortment is.

"Not too sure," is about as much as he's willing to admit.

"Suppose I've got time, though. Considering..." He gestures to himself, at the mess of his bandaged body. Goodnight's not the only one who needs time to recuperate.

"You two could stay here a spell." He pauses in his shuffling, arching an eyebrow. The corner of his mouth twitches up a little. "Town could use a new sheriff."