In the room they had here in the boarding house, Billy stripped off his jacket and his waistcoat, slinging both over the back of the single chair in the room. Then, casually, he approached Goodnight and eased him out of his jacket and waistcoat.

Now, in the privacy of their room, Billy kissed Goodnight like he meant it. He breathed him in--the wreath of smoke on both of them, the soft sharpness of gunpowder, a tiny amount of tangy blood.