xena levels of historic accuracy
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Summary
Sam saw how it was of course, in a single glance. The way Goody held himself, defiant and tense at Billy’s introduction, the silent way his eyes darted from Billy to the group, to Sam, protective and wary. Sam obviously had the advantage of knowledge, of Goody’s character, of his inclinations, but once you knew the signs were easy to spot.
“That’s how it is, you and him?” he asks later, jutting his chin towards Billy on the other side of the fire and Goodnight’s shakes his head quickly.
“Ain't nothing like that, and he doesn't know a thing about it so don’t go telling tales and giving him ideas either.”
In which Sam, by means of Faraday, basically trolls Billy and Goodnight into confessing their feelings.
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Summary
Billy likes routines, likes their calm and clarity. Cleaning knives in the evenings and rolling cigarettes in the mornings. He can, and does, roll them as they go along but it’s nice to have a ready stack, too much trouble to fiddle with them in the wind, or on horseback, or with Goody’s panic rising beside him, and its soothing to set out his cigarette case, papers, tobacco and the separate pouch with madak. Its meditative and he has much to think on. He has one problem and ten cigarettes to solve it.
The problem is Goodnight. Or rather, his own insidious and traitorous feelings for Goodnight.
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Summary
Keycchan said the immortal words:the nearest town over suddenly seeing SO MANY horses come around w saddles and reins but no riders,like ??? what the fuck TWO HUNDRED HORSES JUST??? OUTTA NOWHERE???????