Nicholas D. Wolfwood (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fullofmercy) wrote2007-08-15 02:51 pm
fullofmercy) wrote2007-08-15 02:51 pm
(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.
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.
no subject
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?"
no subject
"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.