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"Motherfucking cocksuckers," Swearengen said. Seth and Sol looked automatically towards the Reverend, but he only smiled ruefully as Swearengen stalked off.
"A model of decorum," the Reverend said. He seemed pleased when Sol laughed and Seth grinned.
"So why did Swearengen come by?" Sol asked after the Reverend departed--a sermon to give, probably. Or perhaps a coffin to build. "I doubt he's in the market for hip boots."
"I honestly don't know," Seth said. "It's possible he just felt like calling us cocksuckers." Sol winced. "What? You don't make that face when Swearengen says it."
"Swearengen says it every fourth word," Sol said dryly. "It's hardly worth my time to react. I wish you wouldn't say it, though."
Out of habit, Seth looked around before leaning closer to Sol. His voice wouldn't carry more than a few feet. "You wish I'd stop *doing* it, Sol? Because I can't recall you objecting--"
"Seth."
The wicked smile vanished from Seth's face. "I won't let 'em find out. You know that."
"You plan to protect me?"
Seth nodded. One hand rested on his hip, just to the side of his gun.
"Who's going to protect you?"
"What?"
"It's not Seth Bullock, the famous lawman, upstanding Christian man with a soft spot for his Jew friend." Seth jerked, but Sol's hand was on his arm, holding him still. "They hang me for sodomy, they hang you with me. Cocksucker."
Seth flinched.