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Loco had been up here alone for long enough that any new sound besides the drone of wind over snowdrifts was immediately obvious. When he heard footsteps approaching he tossed down the book he’d been trying to convince himself he was reading, threw on his coat and hat and ran outside.
“Charlie!” he said.
There was a stranger by the corner of the house. The stranger stopped. Loco stopped. The two stared at each other for a moment.
The stranger gave a polite nod.
“Oh, hello. Thought you were my friend, he should’ve been here yesterday. Hope nothing’s happened to him.”
The stranger said nothing. Loco looked him over: he had an attractive face, he thought, jaw clouded with a few days’ worth of stubble. He had a wary look to him that made Loco immediately believe that he was armed. He was dressed warmly, his outer layers were encrusted with snow and he was leading a dejected-looking horse behind him. This was a hell of a hike to make on foot this time of year, and judging by the direction of his tracks he hadn’t come from town.
“Something happen to your horse, friend?”
The stranger didn’t answer, but looked down at something in the snow.
Loco, following his gaze, realized the wind had half-uncovered his corpses.
“Oh, good lord!” he ran around the house for his shovel and came back. “Don’t want to attract any creatures up here. Once a fox got at my man’s face and I almost couldn’t collect the bounty because he was unidentifiably shredded. Had to find his kid and get them to identify the clothes on him, and then the kid cried and the sheriff insisted on calming him down and taking him home before he’d pay me, it was a real headache.” He began shoveling more snow over the bodies. “These are wanted men, by the way. They’re better company dead than alive. But I’m guessing you knew that.”
The stranger gave a slight nod. He didn’t seem alarmed by the presence of corpses in the snow, so the assurance was probably unnecessary. That made sense. Anyone so casual about traveling alone through this frozen hell must have seen things that would turn others’ stomachs. But the degree of calmness he exhibited made Loco think it was more than that, that this man was a killer, too, and used to seeing corpses. He had the look, and the less he said, the more curious Loco became.
Loco covered his bounties in a fresh layer of snow and packed it down firmly with the back of the shovel so the snow wouldn’t blow away, then leaned on his shovel to look at his new friend, wondering if he’d finally say something.
The other did not, but simply looked at him, then back at the snow.
“Well,” sad Loco. “It’s getting late, you’re welcome to stay here. I don’t have the greatest hospitality to offer but there’s a warm fire and some food. Your horse can rest up in the stable over there.”
The other seemed to consider it for a long moment, and turned to look at the mountains. The light was starting to fade from the sky. It was already cold, and it would get colder very fast, and he didn’t look equipped to sleep outdoors. Still, he considered the snowy woods for several long moments before nodding, reluctantly Loco thought, and leading his horse off towards the stable.
Well. Charlie’s tardiness was becoming worrying, but at least Loco wasn’t alone and bored half to death while he waited. This new fellow was very interesting indeed.
Indoors, the stranger took off his coat. He was dressed in warm black clothes, armed with a modern-looking gun in an odd holster that kept Loco from seeing too much of what it looked like.
He realized the stranger was looking at him questioningly.
“Ah, forgive my staring. I can usually identify guns at a glance, it’s not often I meet one I don’t know.”
The slightest suggestion of a smile touched the stranger’s lips, and he took out the gun (careful to keep it pointed away from him) and showed how it could clamp into the holster to add a stock.
Loco took it (the stranger gave him a doubtful look but didn’t stop him)—long dark metal barrel, boxy magazine, mauser stamp. No hammer to pull back.
“Oh, that is fascinating. This is one of those automatic guns, isn’t it? Is it good? A lot of people don’t trust the fancy new guns.” The stranger was open to progress, then; to anything that would give him an advantage, not just sticking with the gun he’d first learned to use because it felt comfortable in his hand, like most would. “I guess the speed would give you an advantage if you have to deal with a lot of problems at once.”
The stranger nodded.
Loco liked studying people, seeing what he could figure out about them, but this was ridiculous. Not one word to go on. He couldn’t decide if he was more irritated or intrigued.
“Are you a bounty hunter, too? You’ve got the look,” he said, testing the feel of the gun against his shoulder. “And the gun. Maybe I should get one of these.”
The stranger shook his head.
“You’re a killer, though.”
The stranger nodded easily. Not proudly, Loco thought, but without hesitation.
“Who do you hunt, then?”
The stranger seemed to consider for a moment, tipped his head to once side, then pointed at Loco.
Well. It wasn’t a direct threat, because Loco was still holding his gun, and both the stranger’s hands were visible.
Loco laughed. “That’s very bold… People like me, do you mean?”
Something between a shrug and a nod.
“I see. When I shoot some criminal for the betterment of society, and his distraught family wants revenge because they can’t accept that good old pops was a criminal, they scrape together some money that would be better spent on restarting their lives and summon you. Is that it?”
A nod.
“Well! But you’re not here to kill me, in particular. Are you?”
A firm shake of the head, a slight smile.
“Well, then.” Loco gave him back his gun and watched him put it away. “I’ll be honest, I don’t understand you. More dangerous to hunt wolves than vermin, not to mention illegal.”
Dismissive nod.
“Does it pay better, at least?”
The stranger seemed to think about this, and a wry smile touched his lips. Finally he shook his head.
“Goodness. What’s the point, then?”
He just looked away. It evidently wasn’t an answer that could be conveyed via grimace or nod, and he seemed to have no interest in exploring other methods of communication.
“Alright, well, there need be no animosity between the two of us. Shall we eat?”
Still no verbal response, but he looked relieved to move on.
The stranger ate quickly, and Loco thought perhaps it was both because he was hungry and because he was uncertain of the situation. He seemed tense around him, though Loco had been nothing but welcoming, and was still trying to figure out what the other’s stance was. The stranger had done his best not to seem threatening—and now he kept both hands in sight on the table as he ate—but he’d also… threatened him? Sort of? Not seriously, but still. It didn’t make much sense, but it was an interesting puzzle, and he didn’t think the other was a threat as long as he didn’t antagonize him. He enjoyed looking at him across the table, having someone to break the monotony of being on his own. Sharp features, short hair. Elegant neck. Loco watched him swallow and noticed something odd.
“Hey,” he said, and the other startled. “Tilt your head back?”
He lifted an eyebrow and continued eating.
Loco, not to be deterred, leaned across the table and rolled onto his side to get a better view of the scar across his neck.
“Oh, Silence, I know who you are now! You’re the idiot with a moral code. I’ll be honest, I had wondered if you were real.”
Silence gave him an offended look.
Loco slid back off the table into his chair, chuckling. “Well. I’m honored. I’ve heard about you, you know.”
Silence gave him a brief, guarded look.
“Nothing bad. Baffling, perhaps, but not bad. Why do you insist on taking the most thankless jobs? Is it the challenge? I imagine it’s exciting.”
Silence didn’t even look at him.
“I have paper,” said Loco, “If you’d like to say anything.”
Silence shook his head.
After dinner they played blackjack. Loco restrained himself from any more questions about work, and Silence seemed to relax a little. He had a good poker face, and the use of hand signals made it easy for him to sink into the game. He had nice hands, too; precise movements, well-trimmed nails. After barely winning a game it occurred to Loco that neither of them had said a word for half an hour, yet he felt closer to Silence than at any other point so far.
“You ready for bed?” Loco asked.
Silence glanced at the single bed against the wall and some of the tension from earlier returned.
“I don’t bite,” grinned Loco.
Silence gave a faint exhalation that wasn’t quite a laugh.
There followed a delicate ritual. They both removed their guns, watching each other to make sure the other followed through, but pretending not to. Both of them kept their knives.
Loco pretended to fall asleep quickly. It was a favorite trick of his—he could do an undignified, natural-sounding snore that tended to convince just about anyone. Silence seemed determined to test his patience, though, lying perfectly still and alert, facing towards him. Loco began to wonder if he meant to stay awake and on guard all night, but finally, he heard his breathing deepen and risked looking over at him.
He certainly seemed to be asleep, mouth slightly open. Loco reached over the cold sheets between them and into the pocket of warmth around his body and poked him slightly. He did not react. Loco reached up and stroked the stubble on his jaw. He did not react, so he let his hand linger there, then felt down to where the scar was, finding it in the dark as an interruption in the stubble, and traced the length of it across his throat.
Silence obviously took care of himself, even when traveling. His clothes were travel-worn but clean. He even smelled nice. He’d probably go his own way soon, either tomorrow or the next day, and Loco hated the thought of it, but Silence was a loner. He understood that. Maybe he liked the mystique a little, even. Still, it was precious to have him close at least for now, just for one night.
He explored the warm body next to him, careful not to wake him, running his fingers over the stitching at the seams of his shirt, linking their hands. He had strong hands. He’d been wishing for an excuse to touch them.
Quietly he unbuckled Silence’s belt. He expected him to wake up and shove him away, or maybe stab him, but he didn’t. He must have been exhausted from traveling, because his breathing remained deep and unbothered as Loco worked a hand between shirt and waistband and touched his skin. Warm and soft, unresisting as he struggled with buttons in the dark, brushed down through a few curls of hair and took his manhood in hand. He was half-hard, maybe from a dream, and still didn’t react as Loco felt over him. Maybe he was awake but pretending not to be, Loco thought. He carefully adjusted his position to make it easier to move his arm, and inched closer, to where he could feel Silence’s body heat, and began to stroke him, feeling the response in the otherwise still body.
He wished he could talk to him, but didn’t want to risk waking him. You’re so beautiful, he wanted to say. We understand one another, don’t we? It’s lonely out here for killers like us, men who can’t trust anyone. But we can trust each other, can’t we? Maybe not for long, but just for now.
He was beginning to think he might get away with this entirely without waking him when Silence stirred, breathing disrupted, then a hand clamped down on his wrist, stilling his arm. He felt the body next to him tense, shift away slightly, and could hear Silence’s heart racing—his own, too.
Well, he hadn’t been stabbed (yet), and Silence seemed to be stunned into indecision for the moment. Loco twisted his hand and felt Silence shiver. It was a bit complicated to continue with Silence latched onto his arm like that, but he persisted, and Silence must have been close already because in another moment he felt him twitch and his hand became slick. He made no sound, not even a gasp, and somehow this annoyed Loco.
Silence let go of his arm, then rolled over, facing away from him, and lay still. It was a tense, wakeful stillness this time, and though Loco would have liked to do more he had a feeling he’d better not push his luck, and left him alone. Eventually he too fell asleep.
Loco woke before sunrise, when it was only just starting to grow light, but Silence and his horse were already gone, two pairs of tracks leading off into the woods.
He was alone, but he was also alive and distinctly un-stabbed, so he figured Silence couldn’t have been too upset with him. He realized he had no idea how they would interact if they met again. He was looking forward to it.