milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[ oom: this cowboy keeps his word ]

He didn't expect to see the bar just yet.

Doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate the happenstance.

Ben Wade heads toward the counter to order a whiskey. He's in a damn good mood.

[ tiny tag: the russian astronaut ]

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"Old 'nough won't open up 'gain, been o'er a year now."

"Well, then."

Another short nod.

"Time helps."

A beat as he drains his whiskey and requests two more from Bar.

"And so does whiskey."

"Aye, does, fine smooth stuff they 'ave 'ere

drinks his shot and lets his wrist be.

"Better'n almost anything I can get on the other side of my door."

A quiet chortle.

"Hell, this Whyren's ain't even from Earth — s'from Solo's world."

"Naught wrong with that, just means they've good taste."

"Certainly do," he grins. "I gotta remember to take a few bottles to Arizona next time I leave."

"Ye'll make good many friends that way."

That earns a chuckle.

"Followers, probably."

He does have to see about putting another gang together.

"Do ye na 'ave friends an allies waitin' for ye back there?"

"Tend to rub lawmen the wrong way, but folks like me well enough."

"Well aye, tis part o'bein' an outlaw, but meant who rides with ye?"

"Nobody ridin' with me just now."

Six bullets.

"Boss?"

Then an extra slug for Charlie, from Charlie's own gun.

Six dead men.

"Gonna pick up some boys when I get back," he adds with a humorless half-smile.