*
A man's worth is no greater than his ambitions. (Marcus Aurelius)
*
"Are you sucking his prick?"
Silas's day had been long enough already without this bullshit. "Whose?"
"You know whose." Dority glared some more and sat his bulk down opposite him, crowding the rickety table and blocking the only goddamn exit to the Gem.
"And why in hell," Silas asked mildly, "would I be going on to do a thing like that?"
Dority scowled harder. Silas wondered if it was possible for a man to shit himself from scowling so fucking hard, looking like he was working on the world's most elaborate fucking pile. "Don't play fucking smart with me, Addams, and answer the fucking question."
"I would, if it made any goddamn sense. I ain't about to steal your place as Swearengen's prime fucking cocksucker, Dority, if you're so sweet on him, don't you worry your pretty little head."
"Don't get fucking cute." Dority shifted closer, voice pitching so low as to be almost inaudible. Silas fought the urge to lean forward; let the bastard whisper if he wanted. "Five seconds ago you was someone else's man, and now here you are, swearing up and down goddamn fealty and whatnot to Al. Why the fucking change of heart?"
Silas toyed with his tea. Not like he'd actually wanted any fucking tea, to be sure, but Dority didn't look like he was ready to serve him anything not piss-mixed, and that cripple had been shoving a fucking tea-tray at him for about an hour. She'd tried to rustle up some cucumber sandwiches too, Christ Almighty, before Dority had shown up and chased everyone to the other side of the room. "He made a better offer," he said eventually, lip curling a little at Dority's constipated look. Christ, the man could scowl, like he was getting fucking paid for it.
"Yeah. And if someone else betters it, later on, we'll all be caught with pants down and asses high."
"They won't." Of this, he was fairly certain.
"Like you're so fucking sure. Short of going queer on 'im, how'd I know your reasons?"
Fair points all, but that didn't stop him from being a nosy motherfucker. Silas sipped his watery tea. "So you'd prefer it if I was sucking his prick?"
"It'd make me sleep heaps fucking better, clever man. Ain't that right, Charlie?"
Swearengen's idiot errand boy tried to look over Silas's left shoulder. "Heaps."
He set the chipped crockery down and pushed it away. "Dority. I have no quarrel with you." Not right now, at any rate.
Seemed like Dority heard him just fine, leaning back enough to give them both room to move. "I reckon you do. I don't like your face, clever man."
"And Al, then, he's keen on you doing away with any ugly bastard, that right?" He shrugged at the half-empty saloon. "Explains why this place is such a fucking beauty spot."
"Listen -" Dority pushed his chair back.
"Well, now," came from above, in the nick of fucking time. "Isn't this nice." Speak of the devil, and he turns up to demand another drink. "Everyone playing so fucking sweet, it's enough to make my heart dance with fucking joy." Swearengen clapped a hand on Dority's shoulder as he stepped off the stairs, whiskey glass in hand. "Anyone care to get me a refill?"
The idiot errand boy took that as his cue to get out of the line of fire. "I'll get it, Al."
Swearengen stayed where he was, hand still gripping Dority's shoulder. "We're all happy here, right boys?"
"As fucking clams, Al," Dority said, mouth twisting over what could have been a smile.
"Couldn't be happier," Silas supplied, smiling so as butter wouldn't melt.
Swearengen grunted, apparently uninterested in the details of their not killing each other, and turned to go and investigate his drink. He patted Dority on the shoulder, and clapped a hand down on Silas's back in passing. "Let's have both hands on the table, then, lads, so's to remain friendly."
Silas debated not listening, but that wasn't what he'd signed up for. Shrugging a little, he put his left hand back on the table, gun still held loosely, uncocked.
Dority's expression would have been comical under any other circumstances. "You'd have shot me sight unseen?"
"I'm a traditionalist," Silas said smoothly. "I find it increases my life expectancy."
Dority glared, then moved to stand. His right hand came back out from under the table, and slid his knife back in its sheath.
Jesus fucking Christ. With all that macho sounding-off, Silas hadn't even seen the bastard take that out, all ten inches of polished fucking steel. Man liked to keep his blade clean, almost as a courtesy.
His assessment of Dority grudgingly went up a notch. Not like Swearengen would be a man to tolerate fools gladly, but...
"Come have a drink, boys," Al called.
Dority stood. "Al will know if you're not on the up and up. He's got plans for this 'ere town, and he ain't about to let the likes of you go and fuck it up. He's a smart fucking man, you know," he said, low and furious, as if Silas had been impugning Swearengen's honour.
Silas straightened to match him, standing closer than the presence of the knife would indicate prudent. "I know," he said, putting his hat back on and straightening his necktie. "Why do you think I chose his side?"
*
fin