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Goody was pressing two edges of interlocking cardboard together triumphantly when a shadow cast over his table in the saloon, he looked up and smiled when he saw Billy, a little sweaty from whatever he’d been up to outside but otherwise composed and quiet as always.
“What are you doing?” Billy asked curiously, poking at a few rogue pieces,
“A dissect map,” Goody offered, “picked it up the other day when that merchant rolled through,” he added as explanation before turning his attention back to the pile of pieces and sought out another connecting piece. “Sit, join me, we can build New Orleans together,” he gestured absently to the chair beside him and Billy eased into it, poking around the pieces and finding a few that matched easily.
Billy was a dab hand at this kind of puzzle it would seem, brow pinched in concentration as his two pieces quickly grew to the full chunk of etched in buildings that made the bottom left corner of the picture, seemingly intent on forming the frame of the image from there.
The image they were constructing was a print of an illustration of the river flowing through New Orleans entirely in grey and beautifully shaded; the quality wasn’t the highest Goody had seen, but this was the first time he’d seen a dissected map made of cardboard, and he’d bought it cheap from a man who’d recognised his accent, then his name, and insisted he needed it, so he wasn’t like to complain.
“Give me the–” Billy paused, gesturing a straight cut with his hand, “the flat pieces,” he murmured, reaching past the bundle Goody was working on and dragging the little pile of edges across the wood,
“Have you done this before?” Goody hadn’t been actively collecting them up, more setting them aside for later, but he was happy Billy wanted them.
“No.”
“My daddy always used to do the outsides first,” he noted, “methodical to a fault, but I just wanted to make the pretty picture,” Goody said with a smile, raising a hand when one of the establishment’s girls passed them, “Would you mind fetching us a bottle and another glass, miss?” he asked sweetly, pressing more than enough notes for the drink and her assistance into her lace-gloved palm when she leant down to accept the exchange.
“Anythin’ else, Mr Robicheaux?” she asked with a flirtatious look, making a point of tucking the money carefully into the dip of her cleavage whilst Goody watched,
“I think that’s all, right Billy?” Billy didn’t answer, too focussed on assembling the border of the puzzle, “seems like, merci,” he finished with a nod, watching her leave before turning his attention to Billy. It was amusing, in part because Billy seldom focussed quite so intently on anything frivolous, but also because Billy had expressed no issue with the affections of the working girl; he wasn’t a jealous man per se, but he was prone to withering looks when Goody pretended to stray.
He thanked the girl when she set their glasses and bottle down nearby, though she did give him another once over and swayed her back end suggestively when she left, an offer he would politely refuse should it come up again. He poured a healthy amount for himself and Billy, nudging the glass over and chuckling when Billy immediately knocked the whole glass back before setting it down and hunting through the pile for the next edge piece.
~~~
“Maybe it’s on the floor,” Goody offered some time later; they had finished the puzzle, or at least they would have, had one piece not been missing from the top right corner, “or in the box?” he added, watching Billy tip the narrow box up and shake it pointedly.
“It’s not on the floor, I looked,” he dropped the box and tapped his chin thoughtfully, “Faraday,” he said lowly, narrowing his eyes as he mulled over an earlier mention of the Irishman, “he has it,” he determined, hands feathering over the hilts of his knives.
“Be gentle with him, cher,” Goody said softly, making no attempt to soothe Billy’s rising fury over a single puzzle piece,
“Oh I will be…” Billy said darkly, drawing one of his knives from his belt, a smaller blade he preferred when making threats.
As if on cue, raucous laughter filtered through the saloon doors, soon followed by Vasquez and Faraday, clinging to one another as they laughed at something or other, Billy turned his hard stare on Faraday and waited for the laughter to peter off. When it did, Faraday took one cursory sweep of the room, saw Billy looking at him, knife drawn, and immediately placed Vasquez between them,
“Oh shit,” he let out, bolting back through the swinging doors the second Billy took a step towards him.
“Guerito?” Vasquez voiced his confusion, seeing Billy stalking his way and stepping aside swiftly, “Good luck!” he called as the doors swung closed behind Billy’s quickening steps, though it was unclear who exactly he was wishing luck to. He glanced at Goody, the two sharing a quiet shrug before Vasquez headed for the bar, leaving Goody with the moment of peace he needed to survey his incomplete puzzle.
He was tracing his fingers over the familiar scene of New Orleans when Vasquez sauntered over to see what he was up to, making a soft noise in his throat as he dipped down to pick something up off of the floor. He stood upright and tossed his find casually, Goody watching the slip of cardboard flip in the air before landing in Vasquez’ open palm again. He then proceeded to press the piece into the little hole in the top corner of the image, nodding to himself,
“Nice,” he let out softly before meeting Goody’s eye,
“On the floor?” Goody asked, leaning back in his seat and regarding Vasquez with a knowing look,
“Mhm,” Vasquez grinned, a telling twinkle of mischief in his eye as he winked.
“I’m sure Joshua’s innocence can be proven well enough,” Goody muttered softly and picked up his almost forgotten glass of whiskey, raising it to Vasquez who lifted his bottle in kind,
“May God show him mercy,” Vasquez offered as a toast,
“I fear God’s mercy won’t help him, only Billy’s,” Goody tipped his glass in answer, earning a low chuckle before Vasquez departed.
~~~
He had pushed his seat back far enough to allow him to kick his feet up and cross his ankles on the edge of the table when Billy stalked back in some time later,
“He didn’t have it,” Billy rumbled, about to sit down but hesitating as he looked at the puzzle, “where… when…” he pointed accusatorily at the formerly missing piece, then frowned at Goody.
“Vasquez ‘found it on the floor’ after you left,” Goody offered with a shrug, picking up the bottle of whiskey and topping up their two glasses,
“Vasquez,” Billy turned slowly, scanning the bar for the vaquero and not seeing him,
“He slipped out earlier, to find Ms Cullen I'd wager,” Goody dismissed, “but rest assured, my dear, for you were correct,” he mused, waiting for Billy to look at him again before continuing, “Faraday took the piece.” Billy gave him a hard look before moving to slowly sink into his seat at Goody’s side,
“Explain.”
“Well, you know, of course it how it began,” he gave a lazy twirl of his wrist as he spoke, “young Joshua took umbrage with my exemplary loquacity, particularly when directed at him,” he couldn’t help himself, flexing his vocabulary to unnecessary limits even though his audience consisted entirely of the man who knew him inside and out. “He took the piece last night when I showed the puzzle to him,” Goody hadn’t been paying the most attention when Faraday had taken the puzzle and begun playing with the cardboard sleeve keeping everything snug inside the box, but he’d picked up the way Faraday was jostling it back and forth in feigned absency. He explained as much with accompanying gestures, “and the way he shifted from the puzzle itself to asking about New Orleans completed the misdirect, the box was returned and the piece was passed off to Vasquez for safe keeping.”
He watched as Billy sipped thoughtfully at his drink, mulling over Goody’s words silently with the hint of a frown still creasing his brow, “If he knew he didn’t have the piece, why did he run?” he eventually asked,
“I don’t think he expected you to have joined me in assembling the map,” Goody mused thoughtfully, “Or perhaps he thought I’d mourned the loss of my toy to you, you are very protective of me,” Goody teased, smiling when Billy’s expression softened into fondness, a silent agreement that yes, he was very protective of him. “Regardless, the piece has been returned by Vasquez, albeit with a flimsy attempt at subterfuge, so no harm done in the end,” he dismissed with an easy gesture, attention slipping to the saloon door as it opened and Faraday returned once more, limping towards the bar with a somewhat familiar boot print dusted across his hide. Goody looked at Billy, watching dark eyes shift from Faraday to meet his, he raised his eyebrow in question,
“Some harm done,” Billy shrugged.