Manners
Author: wanderingsmith
update dec 30, 2016
Summary: For all that southern charm he
lays on, Goodnight's introduction to Emma has not
the slightest hint of seduction to it. Rare enough
to see even *today*.
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd
be daft enough to pay me for this. As it is thought,
so let it be said; you make the toys, I play with
'em..
Watching this 'angel of death' turn from greeting
Chisolm to facing her, Emma braced herself. He seemed
nowhere near as rough as Vasquez, but she'd dealt with
more than a few well-appearing men who'd turned out to
be rude bastards.
"Enchanté, mon cher."
The words were as foreign as his chinese companion, but
at least he took her offered hand decently.
"Your hands are cold, Emma. Are you nervous?" before she
could find a reply to challenge the assertion, he added
in a very soft voice, "Don't be. Goodnight's my name."
And that was all. Kind eyes and a polite nod and then he
moved away, leaving Emma watching him follow the other
newcomer.
Though a name hardly reassured her, the complete lack of
any attempt at physical intimidation was pleasant. With
the way he'd swaggered toward her, she'd expected the
usual arrogant bluster. Those quiet, *distant*, eyes
that seemed to ignore that she was a 'weak' female were
an odd surprise. But pleasant.
---
She remembered that day, and those feelings, when she
walked with the preacher and a few men to go dig four
graves, separate from those of the townfolks. Their own
spot, watching over the prairie where they'd been free.
She'd not had occasion to get to know their rescuers
well, Goodnight almost as little as Billy. Faraday's
bluster hadn't needed knowing, and Horne had actually
been oddly friendly, in his quiet way, kind, but
retiring. But the other two had always seemed to be
together when they weren't working. Together and content
to be. Even when she'd watched the seven together during
their evenings, the two men always seemed to have their
own pocket of space. Touching each other, but not the
others; not anyone else.
That gentleness Goodnight had shown her that first day
had stayed, at least for her, and for the other women,
and children; even for the men, when they didn't force
him to bluster. Always, for Billy. A killer he might
have been, but whatever the reason he'd taken that path,
it wasn't cruelty, neither he nor his chinaman. Both
lacked the harshness the others insisted on portraying.
It left her glad they'd gotten to die together. She
didn't think Goodnight's eyes would have remained
gentle, wherever he'd have ended up, if he hadn't
returned to stand with his friend. And as for the man
who'd stood with him so closely, well, she hadn't got to
know Mr. Rocks. But anyone who was that loyal and kind,
deserved to have his friend at his side on his last day.
Once the graves were dug, she stopped Teddy's first
grab, "No, Teddy, Billy first. Then Goodnight. Then
Faraday, with Horne on the other edge."
It was likely female foolishness to care how their empty
bodies lay. But if she was wrong, it still did no harm
for the two friends to face the next world side by side,
nor for Billy and Horne to not be surrounded.
AN:
...so is using 'mon cher' instead instead of 'ma
chère' for a woman a cajun thing? or a blooper?
'cause srsly.. every time it makes me flinch....
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