Kid passed through the drifting smoke as soft as a breeze; gliding across the room, without a sound, not even his boot heels making staccato echoes on the battered wood floor.
He appeared unaware of all about him; when in reality, his diamond-hard, blue eyes beneath his low pulled hat were scouring the room, always returning to the empty chair next to his partner.
Sliding into the chair, he thought, ‘Something’s fixin’ to happen. I can feel it.’ Taking a deep breath and exhaling, he tried to get his taunt nerves to relax.
Letting his gaze slant to Heyes’, he saw, he was shuffling one-handed and by his grin, he was shining on the other players.
The cards were slipping and rolling together as smoothly as the wheels on a steam engine chugging along. Kid kept watching the moving cards, not hearing a word Heyes was saying.
The hair on the back of his neck felt thick and stiff, ‘It’s here.’ Kid thought, knowing he was right.
Being a gunslinger this many years, he had learned a singular skill, one that had kept not only himself alive, but Heyes too, and that was to rely on his senses.
Rely on them, even when his partner teased him, rely on them even when all felt perfectly normal, just rely on them no matter what.
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