(Untitled)
When Doc makes his way into the bar, he's tracking mud and snowslush off his boots onto the floorboards but he doesn't care. The door swings shut on Deadwood and he makes his way carefully towards a darkened corner, waving at a waitrat to bring him another whiskey
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He's out of uniform and dead on his feet, ready to head home from the station. Scrubbing his face with one hand, keys in the other, Bill doesn't realize he's walked into Milliways.
He also doesn't see the leftover slush-puddle until he steps in it.
There's the squeal of rubber sliding on wet floor, and Bill only has time to pinwheel his arms once before he's down on his backside.
"Son of a bitch."
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"Aww, piss."
He shoves himself up from the bench, dropping his still-burning cigarette into the ashtray.
"Bill, you gotta watch where yer goin'," he says, walking over (carefully avoiding the slushpuddle) to lend him a hand up.
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"I was watchin' wh-- "
It's then the voice registers and Bill looks up.
Seeing Doc's face, a quick glance around tells Bill he's ended up in Milliways, and the scowl turns into a smile.
"Doc, hey."
Bill winces while getting up, and hangs onto Doc's hand to give it a good pump.
"How y'been?"
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He's already steering Bill towards his table -- clearly this reunion calls for a drink!
Or several.
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"I'm doin' alright. Been busy back home."
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He drops into the booth, grateful for the stationary seat and the return to his whiskey and cigarette.
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"No, none of that."
He shakes his head, truly glad that isn't a problem in Wheelsy.
"S'just outside trouble tryin' to settle in Wheelsy. We're workin' on it, though."
Looking at the whiskey bottle and cigarette, it's Bill's turn to eye Doc.
"How're things goin' with you?"
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Doc shrugs, noncommittal.
"I'm just ridin' right now. Settled in Deadwood for a spell. Dakota Territory." He lifts the glass, swirling the liquor in the tumbler and watching the light reflect off the amber. "Don't think I'll stay too long. It's crowded. And the women ain't worth half of what y'pay 'em."
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He loses focus on the task when he hears what Doc's saying.
Lowering his hand, Bill coughs into his fist and shifts on his seat.
"You uh... y'might wanna be careful with that, Doc. Ladies like that can uh... give you more'n what you pay for."
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Not to mention the benefits of getting oneself vaccinated and tested regularly for various diseases that might crop up.
He shrugs, looking down.
"Though ain't like m'runnin' all over the territory or nothin'."
He has standards.
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Bill gives an awkward shrug and is willing to let the subject drop quick since it seems Doc has already been given a heads up.
Searching for a rat again, Bill waves it over and orders a beer.
"So you seen anyone else around lately? I ain't been in much, myself."
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A pause.
"Y'know Bill, I ain't tryin'...wasn't tryin' to seem like I didn't care, jus' now," he says. "I do 'preciate the warnin'. I ain't lookin' to catch me somethin' I can't git rid of."
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Bill raises his hands and waves it off.
"It's cool."
He nods at Doc's bottle, then down to the waitrat still standing by.
"Y'want a beer, or you good?"
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He leans back.
"So aside from outside trouble tryin'..." he pauses. "Wait, now what sort'a outside trouble you talkin'?"
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Looking back at Doc, Bill shakes his head.
"Drugs."
He hates to say it, hates to think about what's cropped up in his town.
"People are tryin' to start the trade in Wheelsy. Already had one lab go up, an' we've picked some up on the streets."
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"I suppose things get regulated firmer when it gets to be your time," he says. "When you git addicts runnin' 'bout, it ain't never good for a town. That's another reason I ain't gonna stick 'round too long in Deadwood...there's too many men so far gone they can't find their head for their ass. It's a shame."
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