"Goswal must be real dull if you're riding all the way out here for a beer," John laughs as they all sit at one of the tables after a couple of drinks. All of them except Dutch, who remains off to the side. He lights a cigar and sits back in his chair, seemingly observing Ada. It's time to put her skills of remaining emotionless to good use.
"Oh, it is," she sips at her beer and keeps her full attention on the three men sitting opposite her at the table. "Everyone in that town knows everything about each other, sort of takes the fun out of going out."
"That makes it sound like you're up to no good," Arthur laughs through his strong southern accent.
"It does, doesn't it?" she laughs in agreement. "No, I just don't like being watched." If Dutch is going to insist on observing her instead of being social, she decides she'll speak her mind indirectly. And yes, she's aware of the irony considering the reason why she's here in the first place.
Arthur presses his lips together and nods his head as he reaches for his beer, as though he felt the tension in the room rise following her comment.
"They clearly ain't getting drunk enough if they got time for gossiping," John says. He, on the other hand, doesn't seem to notice the shift in the atmosphere.
"Agree," Ada smirks and sips at her beer.
"What is it that you do, miss?" Trelawny asks.
She relaxes into her chair and turns the beer bottle round in her hand. "It's a bit embarrassing really, I don't actually work," she fakes a slight blush. "I have some inheritance from my parents that I'm living off. I – well. I can't seem to decide what I want to do," she lies, dead parents are a great conversation killer and will put a stopper in any further questions.
"That so," Trelawny nods.
"Well, what are you good at?" Dutch's voice asks from the side of her.
If Dutch wants a performance to watch, that's what she'll give him. "I'm demonstrably untalented, I'm afraid," she says without turning her head to him.
"Then what do you do in your spare time?" she sees him lean forward in her peripheral vision, resting his forearms on his thighs.
"Nothing exciting. I enjoy walking, reading, and spending time with my horse. I can play a little guitar, too," she adds on. Played, before her mother passed. She's the one who taught her, and since Ada lost her music never sounded the same.
"I wouldn't call that untalented," Javier interjects. "You will have to play with me some time, mi hermosa."
"You play?"
He nods, "I do, been playing since I was a boy."
"I'm sure you'd put me to shame, I'm really not very good," she chuckles and sips some more of her beer. "Well anyway. I'm sure you understand, a woman in today's society has limited options for employment."
"You'll have to marry rich," Arthur jokes.
She scoffs and shakes her head.
"Not the marrying type?" asks John.
"I don't have time for all that, I'm afraid. I can think of much better uses for my time."
"All that?" Dutch echoes. Ada finally turns her head to look at him and raises her eyebrows for him to elaborate.
"Ain't no finer thing than being in love, miss," he says. Ada can't help but wonder, is he being serious? This man is an outlaw. He robs people and has no consideration for others. Yet here he is, preaching to her about her life choices. Trying to convince her that he even knows what love is; she can hardly imagine him being capable of loving another that deeply.
"I guess we all value different things, Mr Dutch," she swigs the last of her beer and looks to the others at the table. "Another round?"
"I think that's my turn," Arthur stands and puts his hand into his pocket to dig for some change as he walks to the bar.
Ada racks her brain of any way she can get information without asking direct questions. She's been doing well so far; the conversation has flowed nicely for the most part and the men seem at ease. Not including Dutch, who still doesn't appear convinced about her intentions.
"You got any more tricks for me, Josiah?" she asks, hoping to divert all intention to him.
"Well," he pats at his jacket, "unfortunately... I don't same to have anything with me..." he stops patting and hovers his right hand in front of him. He flicks his wrist and a playing card appears as if from nowhere. Ada can't help but be overjoyed at his magic tricks; he's so slick with them.
She giggles and claps her hands together, "that's really something!"
"Not when you seen it twenty times, it ain't," John rolls his eyes.
"Now, dear boy. You have never appreciated the intricacies of magic," he pats the young man's shoulder.
"Until you can magic us some beers so we don't have to pay for them," Arthur walks up and sets the bottles down on the table and hands one to Dutch, "we won't appreciate it."
Trelawny bats his hand and picked up a beer, "it's all in the illusion."
"I think it's great," Ada smirks and sips from her drink. She's starting to feel the effects of the alcohol now and can feel herself getting a little giddy.
"Say," she lowers her tone and leans in, prompting the men at the table to do the same. "What's with him?" she flitters her eyes to her left at Dutch. They smirk.
"He's getting old," Arthur chuckles lowly, "perhaps he don't have the life in him anymore."
"Hmm," she nods and smiles as she squints her eyes, "he's no fun."
"His hearing works just fine, though," Dutch remarks from the side of her. Ada's not sure where it comes from, but she's overcome with laughter and presses her hand to her mouth to try and stop it. The others drunkenly join the laughter and she steals a glance over to Dutch.
He's no longer sat; he's standing with his left thumb hooked into his pocket and right hand holding his cigar. His expression isn't amused as he stares down at her with those dark eyes. She's not intimidated anymore, even less so when she's got a bit of Dutch courage (ha, how ironic, she thinks) and grins as she sits back in her chair to provoke him further.
His chest decompresses slightly as he lets out a small sigh through his nose. "At least you weren't lying about not being able to hold your drink."
"Dutch..." John grumbles.
Dutch puts his hand up to the man and proceeds to take a seat at the table. Whatever part of Ada's brain that is sober is now on high alert, and her skin begins to feel warm with a thin layer of sweat. What does he mean by that? Is there something he knows she's lying about? It'd explain his hostility towards her this evening; perhaps he is just playing a game first. He can have his game, but she's not going to play by his rules. He's expecting her to crumble, to become a nervous mess. She knows, she's dealt with these types of men before.
"Loosen up," she chuckles, placing her hand on his shoulder and massaging it gently. Ada doesn't miss something flicker over his eyes; she's unsure what it is but she assumes it's anger. He can try and hide his feelings, keep his hardened exterior as much as he wants but neither of them can deny his shoulder tensed up when she touched him.
"Excuse me?" he says. He's doing a good job of keeping his cool, but he's not as good as her.
She laughs again and removes her hand to grab the bottle in front of her. "So serious," she mocks and drinks the rest of her beer.
She'd almost forgotten about the other men at the table until she looks up to see them watching the scene with apprehension. This big boss act must be something he keeps up to all of them, too.
"Maybe no more rounds of beer..." Josiah remarks nervously. Arthur and John glance at each other and smirk.
"Honestly, any more and I won't make the ride home," she snickers and stand up. "It has been a pleasure, gentlemen."
"And you, miss," Arthur bows his head, as does Trelawny.
"We'll see you again soon," John says but it half sounds like a question. She offers him a smile in agreement.
"Thanks for drinking with us," Javier adds on.
Dutch says nothing and just looks at her the same way he has done for most of the night. She laughs slightly through her nose at this, before nodding to the others and turning to leave.
Ada didn't realise how warm she was until the cool night air runs over her skin. She breathes in the fresh air and huffs it back out, relaxing her shoulders and tilting her head up slightly to look at the clear night. There are a lot of stars above her and they look even prettier when she's intoxicated. She doesn't think she's too drunk to not manage the ride back; looks like she's going to have to partially rely on Tula to get her home.
She reaches into her satchel to get some treats out for her, as she sees her waiting patiently at the hitching post. Her fingers run over the notebook that she hasn't used all night, and she sighs inwardly at the lack of information she got from those men. All she knows about them now is that they like a drink and -
"Ada," a dark, brooding voice comes from behind her. No prizes for guessing who it belongs to.
Ada closes the satchel and turns on her heels to see him standing as calm as ever, his hands clasped and his stance firm. "With all due respect, I think I've had my fill of seriousness from you tonight." Shit Ada, she thinks, reign your thoughts in a little. She tells herself she does need to start minding her drink in future when she's meant to be working, Dutch van der Linde is still an outlaw after all.
His expression doesn't falter as he steps towards her until he's only a few inches away. The scent of his cigar along with cologne and a fresh, outdoorsy smell that she can't put her finger on clouds her nose. "I just have a suggestion for you."
She raises an eyebrow, "what makes you think I'd take advice from you?"
He doesn't show it on his face, but she knows she's pressing some of his buttons somewhere deep down.
"I suspect you value your life?"
Ada becomes aware of the cold air that blows past. Is this some sort of threat?
"I'll take that as a yes." His head moves down and slightly closer to hers.
Amber. That's what he smells like. Whisky. A faint hint of gunpowder.
"I don't know what your interest is with this gang. But I assure you, continue snooping in business that doesn't concern you and you will regret it." His teeth grit slightly but the tone of calm remains in his voice.
How can he know? She's given nothing away. She's not about to, either; perhaps he's just trying to call her bluff. "I don't know what you're talking about," she shakes her head slightly.
He nods, affirming that he doesn't believe a word she's saying. "Stay away," are his last words before he turns and heads back into the saloon.
There's a bit of sickness at the pit of her stomach, and she allows herself some room to breathe now that his presence isn't all around her. That's what it feels like, he wasn't just in front of her but it felt as though she was enveloped within him. There was no dark, cool street, no background noise of drunken patrons in the town, not even the stars and sky above.
Just him.
She shakes the thoughts from her head. This is the drink talking, Ada. You've had a few too many and need to sober up. He's a dangerous man, and she has to crush him to get what she wants. To make the world just that little bit safer. That's the plan, and she's sticking to it.