[AU of STOIC SILENCE: Alain-Ennis.]

[honest_johns]

Alain's in an armchair. As usual, it's subtly arranged to provide a good view of all the room's entrances and exits.

Coffee, strong and black, sits on the table beside him. He's smoking a freshly rolled cigarette. He's been here for a while, it seems; the butts of two others are stubbed out in the ashtray next to his coffee mug.

Comments

[e_delmar]

Ennis wanders down the stairs from his room and glances around. A bar is a bar, but it's hard to get accustomed to a place where there isn't a door. There's a man there, though; one he hasn't seen before, and there's something familiar about him. Comforting, almost. Lighting a cigarette, Ennis saunters over and takes a seat nearby, nodding to the man.

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

People here dress in a lot of strange things. You get used to it, at the end of the 'verse.

Doesn't mean it's not... comfortable, subtly, to see a man dressed in jeans and solid boots and range-rider's hat. He could be any drover or stockman from Mid-World, nearly.

Alain returns the nod, with a faint smile.

Smoke coils upward.

[e_delmar]

It wouldn't be called a smile, really, on anybody else's face, but on Ennis', that's what it is. He ashes his cigarette and leans back in the chair comfortably, tipping his hat towards the man.

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

Well. Alain is friends with Roland.

He recognizes it.

He's bareheaded today; no hat to tip. Another slight inclination of the head, in response.

Silence stretches. A swallow of coffee, a centimeter of cigarette slowly turning to ash.

Eventually, "Alain Johns."

[e_delmar]

His voice is low and husky, and he takes another drag of his cigarette before he speaks.

"Ennis Del Mar."

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

Another layer of familarity. That name wouldn't be out of place in half the Baronies of All-World.

Alain nods again, and taps the ash off his cigarette, and settles back.

The fire crackles.

[e_delmar]

Stretching his legs out, Ennis crosses them, one boot over the other as he watches the fire.

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

A pine knot pops. Sparks fountain up the chimney, and subside as the logs resettle.

Alain sips his coffee, and sets the mug on the arm of the chair instead of the table, hand curled loosely around it.

[e_delmar]

The heat washes over him, and he rubs his hands together.

"Ain't seen you before."

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

Alain glances at him.

"I live here." Mild. "Work in the stables."

His head cants sideways, a lazier version of a shrug. "Suppose we've missed each other."

[e_delmar]

Ennis nods, and takes his hat off, placing it on his chest. He runs a hand through his hair.

"M'new here."

It's vaguely possible that his eyes express some sort of interest at the mention of stables, but that might be hard to tell.

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

Might.

But Alain is a gunslinger, and trained to notice tiny details; and Ennis has the look of a horseman in his slouch and his walk. And, as previously mentioned, he's spent most of his life in the close company of one Roland Deschain.

He might notice.

He exhales tobacco smoke.

"Bound?"

[e_delmar]

"They tell me that's what it's called."

Ennis stares intently at the fire as he allows the ash to creep its way up the cigarette towards his fingers.

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

"Say sorry."

[e_delmar]

"What'm I sayin' sorry for?"

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

Alain glances at him, bemused.

Then, an instant later, realization.

"No -- means I'm sorry, is all. As they speak in the Callas."

[e_delmar]

"From there?"

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

"No. City called Gilead." A drag on his cigarette, and a slow exhalation. "Friends of mine went there, and I picked it up after."

[e_delmar]

Ennis nods, and watches his cigarette go out as he stubs it on the bottom of his boot.

"That where you learn to ride?"

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

Alain nods.

[e_delmar]

Ennis stretches his legs back out, and runs his finger along the brim of his hat.

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

Alain's cigarette is down to the butt by now. One last drag, and he stubs it out.

His tobacco pouch is near to hand. A paper, a sprinkle of tobacco, and a few deft motions to roll another.

[e_delmar]

Ennis watches Alain's movements carefully, nodding in approval.

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

Alain seals the cigarette.

He lifts the tobacco pouch fractionally in Ennis's direction, raising his eyebrows slightly in question.

[e_delmar]

Ennis nods his head in thanks.

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

Alain leans forward enough to hand over the pouch.

[e_delmar]

Ennis takes it with another nod of his head, leaning over to roll himself a cigarette as well. Done, he pulls out his lighter, offering it to Alain as he hands back the pouch.

[key-youth-bert.livejournal.com]

A short ways off, Cuthbert's coffee is getting cold.

This is because he's forgotten to drink it, what with the staring.



...It'd be like watching a nature film, if he knew what those were. The interaction of stoic blondes in their natural state.



...Kind of scary.

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

And we all say thankya to the gods that Cuthbert doesn't know what nature films are.

Because he'd narrate.

Alain lights his cigarette, with a small nod of thanks, and takes back his tobacco pouch with his free hand. Settling back into the chair, he exhales smoke.

[e_delmar]

Lighting his own cigarette, Ennis relaxes in his own chair and smiles, at ease, perhaps for the first time since he's arrived at Milliways.