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[lastgunslinger]

Roland is kneeling by the DVD player.

"Sit wherever you'd like."

This thrown over his shoulder as he pulls the disc out of its case.

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[lastgunslinger]

He navigates the menu quickly. He's done it before.

And soon enough...there are credits, and then a dustswept landscape...and three men, converging on a small town.

Roland knows this movie very, very well.

And he watches as Tuco crashes through the window with his turkey leg.

Roland shakes his head a little.

[river_meimei]

Tuco gets a very dubious look.

And then comes Angel Eyes.

[lastgunslinger]

And then Joe.

Or...Blondie.

"There. Joe Manco. That's him."

On the screen, Joe is shaking his head at Tuco -- Such ingratitude for all the times I've saved your life.

Roland might be smiling, a little.

[river_meimei]

"Il buono."

She resettles, with a handful of popcorn.

"Got good aim."

Then the movie cuts to a close-up of Joe's pale blue shooter's eyes, narrowed against the sun, and River looks at Roland, startled.

[lastgunslinger]

And Roland smiles.

And nods.

And jerks his head back to the screen, and watches Tuco get the drop on Joe through the window.

He shakes his head as Joe throws the noose over the beam and puts his head in. Quietly: "Always con your vantage, River. Every entrance. Every exit."

Joe wasn't a gunslinger. River is.

[river_meimei]

"Con," she says under her breath. "Means study. From the Old English roots."

Beat.

"He didn't look."

[lastgunslinger]

Joe escapes, fleeing across the waste land...and Tuco follows.

And then Tuco does it again. "See?"

Joe straightens. Sorry, Shorty.

The desert, now. Roland takes this opportunity to lean over and steal a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

[river_meimei]

Solemnly, "He has a blind spot."

Munching popcorn.

Then, a sidelong impish look, and she tosses a kernel at Roland.

Just as helpful illustration of the principle.

[lastgunslinger]

The desert part was always Roland's least favorite.

He turns his attention away from the screen.

And now the eyebrows are RAISED.

Meanwhile, Tuco is about to kill Joe, when the carriage comes down the road.

[river_meimei]

Innocent look! Totally innocent. Really.

...Except now she's distracted by the movie again.

Small, worried frown.

[lastgunslinger]

And there's Bill Carson, and Joe learns half the secret. Tuco takes Joe to the mission...and Tuco attempts to coax Joe's half of the secret out of him by telling Joe that Joe is going to die.

Joe throws his water in Tuco's face.

And Roland smiles.

Joe was a bastard. The good kind.

[river_meimei]

River's watching Roland as much as the movie.

A tiny smile.

[lastgunslinger]

Joe recovers, and Tuco sees his brother, and they leave -- and promptly run into Angel Eyes when they're taken captive.

The band plays as Tuco is tortured by Angel Eyes's man, one arm cuffed to a chair...and Roland's eyes slide over to River.

[river_meimei]

River's not looking at the screen. Her comfortable curl has tightened into a huddle, one knee pulled up to her chest, and her hands are clenched around the popcorn. Half of it has fallen to her lap and the floor, unnoticed.

She's staring at the floor, face tight, expression flickering between emotions. A flinch, every time Tuco screams.

[lastgunslinger]

Roland reaches for the remote and stops the movie. The screen goes dark.

He reaches for his tobacco pouch, and then thinks better of it. Instead, he rises and goes to his desk...and takes out one of the cigars that Joe gave him in the Dreaming. Roland pops a match alight on his thumbnail.

It's a familiar action, by now. Especially when his eyes are illuminated by the matchlight.

He crosses to the window and opens it, wide. A breeze comes into the room; the sounds of the night are as they always are. It rained earlier, and it smells of green things.

Now it's dark in the room; the only light is the light of the moon, and the light at the end of Roland's cigar. He leans, slouched, against the wall by the window.

[river_meimei]

Silence, for a while, and the slightly shaky sound of her breathing. More popcorn scatters. She doesn't seem to notice.

She rests her head against the back of the chair. "The priests will come for him," she whispers eventually. "He'll be okay. They'll both be okay."

[lastgunslinger]

Roland wonders about this, very much.

He comes forward to stand by her chair. He's holding his cigar in one hand, looking down at her, expression slightly inquiring and otherwise blank.

Joe brought his desert in with him.

He wonders what Tuco's Garden would look like.

[river_meimei]

She doesn't move. But she glances up at him, and then down, and then across the room at a spot of empty wall.

"They'll come."

Halfway to a question, or a plea.

[lastgunslinger]

Roland reaches out and rests a hand on her head.

He told her once that he'd never lie to her.

So he doesn't say anything.

[river_meimei]

River can read silence.

Her head bows a little more, beneath his gentle hand, and a tear slides down her cheek.

She doesn't even like Tuco very much. It's not relevant.

[lastgunslinger]

"It happens. It's happening. And we deal with it where we may."

We being gunslingers.

"Do you understand?"

He can't even tell her that it's just a story. It's not. Joe even told him some of this when he lived.

[river_meimei]

Another tear, slowly tracing down to soak into the velvet.

But she nods.

A deep breath. "She comprehends."

[lastgunslinger]

Roland puts his cigar in the ashtray, and stands there for a moment.

"Mo cuishle."

Benediction.

"I know you do." Beat. "Shall we continue?"

[river_meimei]

She doesn't answer.

[lastgunslinger]

Roland looks at her for a moment.

Then he leans over and picks up the remote, and presses play.

The images are back. Tuco tells Angel Eyes his half of the secret.

Joe holds palaver with Angel Eyes...and Angel Eyes tells Joe that he wouldn't give Joe the same treatment because he knows Joe wouldn't talk.

Roland is still standing by River. His cigar burns down slowly in the ashtray.

Absently, he murmurs: "You see? Men like Angel Eyes can tell only by looking at you whether or not you'll break. And when it comes down to something like this -- to be a cast-iron bastard is no bad thing. With us it often comes down to such."

His hand rests on her shoulder.