(Untitled)

[honest_johns]

Alain is sitting on the usual couch, coffee in hand. He's reading a new book, a collection of philosophical essays written in the Great Letters of Mid-World. Alain doesn't agree with the author on much, but mentally picking apart his arguments is a reasonable distraction way to spend an evening.

Comments

[key_youth_bert]

From the bar, Cuthbert turns and heads toward the couch, not seeing Alain at first.

When he does, he hesitates.

He wanted to talk to Alain earlier. That was before he talked to Eddie.

After a moment, he makes up his mind, and continues toward the couch.

[honest_johns]

Alain glances at him, with the start of a smile. It shifts into a look of faint questioning concern when he takes a better look at Cuthbert.

[key_youth_bert]

Cuthbert sinks onto the couch next to him, looking more tired than anything.

"So. Talked to Eddie, recently?"

[honest_johns]

Ah.

Alain looks more tired too, suddenly.

"Yar."

[key_youth_bert]

Cuthbert stares straight ahead, not looking at Alain. His voice is low.

"He wants to change what happened."

A pause. Then, even softer, "And I couldn't tell him he shouldn't."

[honest_johns]

Alain's face is sober, and worried.

And then he understands something of why Cuthbert is avoiding his gaze. The moment when realization hits is visible, as his shoulders drop a little and his face slackens with a weary helplessness.

Softly, after a minute, "None of us would say a word against it, if it could be done right. If we knew it wouldn't send them both mad. But..."

He trails of, with a vague gesture.

But they don't know that. But they have every reason to believe it wouldn't work.

[key_youth_bert]

Cuthbert's not looking at Alain, but he can see the movement out of the corner of his eye.

He turns toward him, and his face bears the same helpless expression, but he reached for his friend's hand.

"...but I don't see how we could know."

Cuthbert slumps back against the couch, closing his eyes.

He wishes Roland were here.

[honest_johns]

So does Alain. A lot.

Roland will never be here again.

His hand grips Cuthbert's tightly, and he leans into the couch back too. "No. Nor I."

[key_youth_bert]

Silence, for a few moments.

Eventually, Cuthbert lets go of Alain's hand and reaches for his tobacco pouch.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that gunslingers in possession of woe must be in want of cigarettes.

"This, ah, may not be the most cheerful of subject changes but...Susan and I got a note from Lilly."

[honest_johns]

Alain nods, not looking surprised.

And pulls out his own tobacco pouch to make himself a cigarette, too. They are nothing if not predictable, now and then.

[key_youth_bert]

Cuthbert glances across at him, concern written across his face now.

She tell you any more about why she left than she did us?"

[honest_johns]

Another nod.

Alain is focusing on his cigarette paper. "Aye. But... it's hers to do alone, and she asked me not to tell of it."

He will if Cuthbert presses the subject. He doesn't want to hide this from them. Doesn't want to keep secrets.

[key_youth_bert]

Cuthbert watches him carefully for several moments.

"Is there anything we can do?"

If there is, then he wants to know what's going on, Lilly's request for secrecy be damned.

[honest_johns]

"Not by her warrant." Sober.

"If she's wrong, I've not yet seen it."

[key_youth_bert]

After another moment, Cuthbert nods.

"You okay?"

[honest_johns]

A small smile cast sidelong, reassuring.

"I'm okay."

'Okay' covers a lot.