[voice test]

[assassinwithahairpin]

Even at night, Rose Creek was a city of desert heats this time of year. Billy had shucked his jacket in the room of the boarding house and excused himself from Faraday and Vasquez's increasing revelries in favor of a cigarette. Though the heat still lingered in the clapboards and railings, the night had a breeze that carried mining smells in from the east.

Billy leaned his elbows on the railing of the balcony, cigarette pinched between his fingers, and considered. This was not his sort of a play, if he were perfectly honest. He was here because he was Robichaeux's man, because he needed him; and Robichaeux was here because of--a debt? A promise? An inescapable and inexplicable need to right his past? And what about the others? Money, connection, promises. He and Red Harvest seemed the odd outliers which Billy could not explain.

A door opened to his left, but he didn't react to it. He knew who it was. He brought the cigarette to his lips and looked up at the moon, wan on the horizon, providing no real light to the evening.

Comments

[goodnight_robicheaux]

"It's gonna become his business," he said, maybe a tone harsher than he needed to be. "Because if I can't-- if we're working this thing together, all of us, and I can't--"

Goodnight couldn't get the words out. Someone could have died because of him. There had been enough of them today that it worked out, others making up for his slack. But Bogue wasn't going to send a dozen men next time; he'd come with a small army.

He tried not to let himself get too agitated.

[assassinwithahairpin]

"You can," Billy assured, speaking over Goody's worry and doubts. He squeezed Goody's hand and looked at him, firm and assured. "I know you can. We will work this thing together. But that doesn't mean it's Faraday's business."

Billy was firm on that front. He didn't like how Faraday looked at the two of them, didn't like Faraday's glib tongue and judgmental eyes. He was only a few years younger than Billy, but he acted like a boy in comparison. And it was none of his business, Goodnight's afflictions. Those were Goodnight's, and by extension Billy's.

[goodnight_robicheaux]

Goodnight had managed to get by without violence for an impressively long time, considering. He rested on his reputation, and later on Billy's ability to scare the shit out of most challengers.

But he didn't think it would be an option now. He feared, inevitably, he would need to raise his hands in violence again. He met Billy's gaze, seeing reflected in them a confidence he longed for. He wondered if Sam knew, if he realized. He had to.

He tried to take a deeper breath and let it go slowly, but it came out in a huff. "Let's hope he finds other interests to occupy his time." But Goody knew disdain when he saw it.

[assassinwithahairpin]

Billy leaned over as Goodnight continued to huff and vibrate with his agitation. He kissed his lips, his chin, across his jaw and down his neck. If he could not make Goody believe that he could do this, than he would carry him through it. He knew what Goody was capable of, was confident in him. It filled in his chest.

He hummed, vaguely. Billy was sure that Faraday would certainly try and find plenty to occupy his interests. Drinking, maybe a couple of women. Vasquez and he kept glancing at each other so heatedly that Billy wanted to laugh at them both.

[goodnight_robicheaux]

Goodnight tried to relax, especially when Billy leaned over, lip brushing along his skin. He turned his head toward him, kissed his forehead, his hair. "Mon cher," he murmured. "I'll be to rights in the morning."

Or he damn well hoped so.