A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
Roland blinked with some measure of surprise at the dramatically departing Mr. Jolly.
Well... perhaps finding a man at war with his nature was a more common thing than Roland had suspected. Though it was somewhat uncomfortable to think that he had much in common with that Jolly fellow. The scene was enough to make him momentarily forget his troubles.
But only very momentarily.
He looked down at the papers which were now in his possession. Papers meant for Zenobia's younger brother. But he surely couldn't deliver them himself. He'd ruined the lad's life, and the only reason he hadn't killed the boy's father personally was because the abused Zenobia had been a touch less hesitant.
Folding the papers in half, Roland tucked them into his jacket's inner pocket. He'd take them to his shop and brood over the question of what to do with them, there. Brooding had been the primary product of his gun shop, of late.
His attention was drawn away when he noticed movement at the table where Caroline sat with a strange man. The man smiled, laid down a coin, and departed... taking a questionable-looking bundle of fish with him.
What is Good, and what is Legal, are not always the same.
"Well," Eric said, holding up a hand, "I shouldn't want to seem to encroach on matters of the heart. Thanks very much for the lead, in any event. You've been good company and good conversation."
He bundled up his fish again- the uneaten item now seeming more like a prop in a stage play than anything intended for a meal- and stood with a smile.
"Please feel free to finish the stew. I should move on the issue of this tutor before it slips my mind."
With that, he took out a coin- one he wagered sufficient for the food, the drink, and a tip besides. Laying it on the table, he bowed his head a little and then took his bundle on his way out the door.
Well, the man said he did anyhow, understood why she had to pass on his kind invitation so she was glad about that. Left unsaid was so many men made that same sort of offer that she could have dined out many times a week and that would never do. Best turn them all down to be fair. But the man was a good customer and would be welcomed back genuinely by the gregarious saloon girl.
"Alright then, you realize yer payin' for food you didn't even eat....so be it. Nice ta meet ya and be a regular around here, yer always welcome," she bid him a goodbye then gathered up the bowl and drink glasses to place back on the tray.
Oh, and pocketed the money too. It would go in the til.
As she turned to take the tray into the back room, she noticed Roland still there and now alone. Still looking awfully glum too. She got it though. As she passed by him she said, "Hey, hon, I'll be right back. Believe we have some business between us still?"
She never did the dishes or any cleanup, that was left to Messalina now that Arabella had left their employ. That still bothered Caroline, she couldn't help it. But the girl was growing up into a lady and was entitled to make her own life.
Once back out, she made a beeline for Roland before some other ....less desirable...customer made a play for her attention. She leaned up against the bar right next to the man and beamed.
"So you here to keep to our bargain. Gimme that dance ya owe me?" her smile faded a bit though as she added more solemnly, "I mean if yer not in the mood right now, I understand...it'll keep for another time."
A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
"Hmm-?"
Roland looked to Caroline in momentary confusion. He could not imagine what business he had pending with her. Had he forgotten a debt? Had he forgotten a promis-
Ah.
It need hardly be said that he did not find himself in the mood for dancing. But of course she knew that. And of course, that was the point. Sometimes you did a thing because you were in the mood for it. Sometimes you did a thing because you could not succumb to the mood you were in.
When she came back out, he shook his head, "I'll never be in the mood for it if I keep sulking with a glass in my hand."
A moment of clarity. He should capitalize on it.
He walked over to where Frances sat.
"Something slow and sweet. Not too happy. Not too sad. If there is such a song."
"Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadows" - Helen Keller
He walked over to where Frances sat.
"Something slow and sweet. Not too happy. Not too sad. If there is such a song."
She stopped playing and reached out a hand, finding his arm and gripping the cloth of his jacket; this helped her gauge whereabouts, approximately, his face would be when she looked up and gave a tightlipped, sympathetic smile.
"There was not, until tonight, Mister Smith. But I shall extemporise one, just for you." she said softly, and then, letting go, felt along the keyboard and, thinking of Rolland... and Zenobia, she began to coax a slow little waltz from the flat wide natural notes and the pointy minors and flats (for she could not picture black and white keys, of course) and although the tune might not have figured in the list of the greatest compositions of all time, a lament for two lovers in the melancholy key of C# at least had the distinction of being extemporised with love from the heart of its blind young composer.
As she played, Frances could not so much hear the footsteps of the two dancers, Rolland and Caroline as feel their vibrations as they danced to her music.
Wayfarer @[Cuban Writer]
Caroline had approached him and presented him the opportunity to make good on their deal about him owing her a dance. But she honestly would have understood if he wanted to put it off given his unfortunate circumstances - the Zenobia tragedy. He almost seemed to have forgotten the whole thing - at first.
"I'll never be in the mood for it if I keep sulking with a glass in my hand."
"Your call," Caroline didn't want to pressure him, it was just a dance.
He walked over to where Frances sat.
"Something slow and sweet. Not too happy. Not too sad. If there is such a song."
Caroline didn't hear young Frances answer, she was a very soft spoken person and she had meant her answer for him. But of course the girl cooperated and started up a tune.
"Can't say I know this one, hon," Caroline smiled at Roland as the pair now blended into each others' arms and started up a basic waltz step.
A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
"It's all Terra Incognita, out here, isn't it?" Roland asked, taking Caroline into his arms.
There was no heat in it. Nothing lascivious. Just two people slowly moving, accompanying notes that waltzed around them.
A song of love. A dance of sorrow. A gesture of solace.
There were hundreds of stories in this town. Some of them ended in tragedy. Some in triumph. But most of those stories hadn't ended, yet. Roland's story had gotten off to a bumpy start, but his story was still just beginning. And with friends like Caroline Mundee, and Frances Grimes, and Arabella Mudd...
Dragons lay in wait at the edge of the map.
But what did it take to slay dragons? Just a little faith... and a little help from your friends.
@[Wayfarer]
Fin?
"It's all Terra Incognita, out here, isn't it?" Roland asked, taking Caroline into his arms.
"I have no clue what that means," Caroline shrugged but did not pursue it. It wasn't about conversation, just some simple dancing.
Caroline enjoyed the dance, in fact she stretched it out as long as possible, asking Frances once to play some more of it. There were no great expectations involved except for Roland and her to just enjoy the moment. True, she did hope it did in some small way help him feel a bit better about what was without a doubt a rotten situation. But nothing would fix it, they both knew it.
And, like all good things, it couldn't last forever. They thanked each other for the dance, the time spent, and went their separate ways. Caroline had a job to do. Roland soon left. Before moving on to mingle with some of the other male customers, Caroline thanked Frances for her role in it too.
"Thank ya, hon. That was beautiful," she spoke softly into the girl's ear.
ooc: Yes, a good place to end it, I agree!