fullofmercy | (no subject)

Dammit!

This is a real bind. He put too much money on it, trusted too much to his own skill, and just look where it's gotten him. So much for trusting thyself; one more move and he's dead.

His hand falters, lifts. He takes a deep pull on the stump of cigarette he's got left, and glares at the man across from him. The guy stares back, impassive.

"You gonna move, or what?"

"I'm thinking." Maybe he could make a break for it? No, no, that's not right. And besides--he glances up again, assessing--the guy's bigger than he is. Who knew the gorilla could play chess?

Maybe he could use those three old guys behind him as cover?

Hell, no. He rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand, then raises it, palm out. "Okay, okay." He stretches a finger out, pauses, tips over his king, and sighs as he watches his money be dragged across the rickety little table. "Good game."

The guy grunts and collects his cash, leaving Wolfwood drooping and despondant in the little wooden chair, gazing at first at the chess board and then at his own reflection in the storefront window before kicking back and lighting another cigarette. He's watching the old guys nearby, but they're not playing for any kind of money. He's already hit them up once.

They sure know a lot of nasty words for being some nice old men. Geez, nobody wants to give to the church anymore.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I am." It's as simple as that. "But not really for myself.

"As for Vash, he's the best there is. He won't shoot to kill, but eventually even he has to protect himself."

He's shaking his head, though, and it isn't Faye he's seeing but a red coat, blond hair, and a wide, wide desert out beyond. "I've never seen anyone so fast. He can dodge bullets. I've seen him change the trajectory of a shot by throwing rocks. I've heard people have missed even after shooting at him at point-blank range."

One hand lifts from his pocket, and he closes his eyes in lazy resignation. "Even I missed. But we were on the same side, so I guess that's probably for the best."

It's an amusing thought--can he help it if he laughs a little at the idea of fighting on the same side as Vash the Stampede?

"I guess not many of your bounties come very close to any of that, huh?"

Well, that's more like it, she can't help but think. A guy with a bounty on his head just isn't going to get very far if he refuses to so much as raise a hand in his defense. She can't even imagine trying.

If he didn't, he'd be the easy prey she always reminds people she isn't.

"So you're traveling priest who carries a giant cross and occasionally finds himself on the same side of things as Gunsmoke's most notorious bounty."

She keeps finding keeping company with guys here who are really puzzling. Nicholas D. Wolfwood is one of the best examples.

Before the doors can close on them, she puts her hand on one of them and pushes it back, making both doors reopen long enough for them to step out. "Yeah," she admits, shaking her head slightly, "your Vash the Stampede doesn't sound like our typical bounty."

For one thing, he makes most of the ones they've been after sound like small fry all the way around. And some of the things he's saying Vash has done are pretty unbelievable, but none of it's stopped her from thinking she'd go after him if she had the chance.

"Fifth door on the right, padre." She points with her chin as they approach it. "It's James Howlett's room, but I don't think he'll mind if you call him Spike."

Even if he did correct her about it once the last time she was in.

"Is that so odd?"

He's all kinds of amused by her satisfaction with his story, and when he reshoulders the cross, it's with a little bit of a laugh. "I guess that's about it. Put that way, I don't sound like a very good priest, do I?"

Laughing at himself is one of the easiest things there is to do, even if the joke isn't really all that funny.

Faye, that's about it. Let's hope you don't get much closer to the truth that that, okay?

"He isn't a typical anything. And why's Spike under the name James Howlett? Or should I ask him that?"

His first and second questions make a smile that's almost involuntarily flirtatious curve her lips, and she slows just a little bit the closer they get to the door.

"Good is subjective, padre," -- and sometimes kind of overrated, she thinks -- "but I can tell you that you're definitely the most interesting priest I've ever met."

And definitely the most handsome, but she's not going to say that. It might be less flattering if he knew she had no memory of anything beyond the last three years, but she's not going to say a word about that, either.

"You might have to ask James himself about that one, though."

He didn't tell her. But even so, she's got her guesses.