milliways_bar | (no subject)

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When Doc enters the bar tonight, it's from a hotel room in Montgomery. He's carrying a bag over his shoulder, and isn't surprised to see that Milliways has decided to show up. After a quick trip to his apartment in the staff wing to change his clothes and shower, he makes a trip out to the stables to check on things.

Once he's satisfied with the state of the stock (and taken note of some new arrivals), he ends up at a table near the bar with a drink and a dinner 'menu'.

Contemplating the specials, he sips at the bourbon (straight, tonight) and looks around the bar for familiar faces while he decides what to order.

[No new threads please - busy workweek means slowtimes. He'll be back!]

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While Doc's deciding, a playing card lands, face-up, on his table.

It's a seven of diamonds, and well-shuffled, judging by its edges.

His eyes go from the menu to the playing card, and then to the man throwing them at the hat that sits on the far side of his table.

Watching the cards flick from Ben's fingers to their destinations brings back memories of sitting in the cell downstairs, throwing a deck of cards across the room, landing them in a neat stack with 'nudges'.

Ignoring the prickle of ice at the base of his neck, he reaches for the card and taps the edge lightly against the tabletop - hard enough that the sound carries.

The Jack of clubs lands neatly in the hat.

Followed by an ace of hearts.

Followed by a two of spades.

When Doc taps the seven Ben sent in his direction, Ben looks over.

He half-smiles in greeting, tipping his head toward Doc.

"You're good at that," Doc comments. "Had a lot of time t'practice, lately?"

"Just particularly quiet down here, for the moment," he says, nodding toward the room at large. "Left to my own devices, turns out I'm not all that interestin'."

"You, not interestin'?" He laughs under his breath. "Don't go sellin' yourself short, Wade."

Bourbon and menu in hand, he shifts to rise in his chair and move to join Ben at his table.

"Been up t'anythin' interestin' back home?"

Ben shakes his head.

"Keepin' my head down out in El Paso," he says.

One corner of his mouth ticks upward.

"I'm a railroad man, these days, workin' for the Southern Pacific."

"A railroad man?" Doc arches an eyebrow in amused surprise. "What're you gonna tell me next, that you've hung up those guns'a yours and joined the church?"

"Oh, haven't you heard? I collect the offerin' plate every Sunday, now, too."

"...now that, I can almost believe. Save for the fact that I know robbin' from the Lord ain't truly your style."

"You know me too well," he says, with a wry chuckle. "It's the railroad I'm more interested in fleecin'."

Literally.

"Funny you should mention the Lord, though, because I'm followin' in His footsteps."

A beat.

A smirk.

"I'm a carpenter."

"Will wonders never cease," he says.

Curiously:

"So what's your angle on the railroad, if you don't mind me askin'?"

Cheerfully: "The very definition of an inside job."

"I've yet to try an inside job myself, but they do sound like a good challenge."

Doc glances from the card still in his fingertips, then to the hat, before flicking it carefully in the hat's direction.

The card joins the others already inside.

He smiles.

Good to see you've still got it.

"It's remindin' me that patience is most certainly a virtue," he says lightly.

Ben's eyes follow the card's trajectory, and he looks back to Doc.

"And how've you been?"

"I've been well," he says. "After I ended up at the 'slumber party' t'end all of the days, I got dropped back in Tallapoosa County, 'couple'a miles up the road the farm."

"The old homestead?"

"Mmmhmm."

He smirks.

"Had an awful nice welcome, too. Momma met me on the porch with m'daddy's Winchester."

"Did she lower it when she recognized you?"

Ben's jesting.

Mostly.

"If she hadn't, I wouldn't be sittin' here," he says. "She might be a woman but she's a damn good shot when she needs t'be one."

Doc's still smirking, so the jesting is taken in stride.

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