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David rubs at his neck with a frown. His last trial ended with him repeatedly experiencing the Oni’s fury, being slammed to the ground by the big club three—or four?—times. After he felt his skull crack and his vision started blurring, it was hard to keep count. He’d been left to bleed out on the ground while the killer slaughtered his friends, and even though it was a quiet way to go, it was David’s least favorite way to be killed.
The others aren’t faring much better. The normally energetic Nea is sitting quietly by the fire, hugging her knees tight to herself after being on the receiving end of the Hillbilly's mori. A little further off, David spots Claudette burying her face against Adam’s shoulder to sob quietly after a brutal trial against the Spirit. Adam places a hesitant hand on the botanist’s back, doing his best to comfort her even as his own shoulders are drooping and his eyes are dull and tired.
Recent trials had been hard on them all. The killers had brought only their A game, and no matter how well the survivors thought they knew the ins and outs of the Entity’s game, it seemed the killers always managed to get the upper hand. David tries in vain to recall the last time more than one person managed to get out; it seemed like every game was a hatch game. David isn’t particularly bothered, mostly just annoyed that they didn’t get a fair chance, but he could see the toll the bad streak had on the others. They needed a distraction, or they would break.
A laugh echoing across the camp has David raising his head in surprise, as it's been days since he last heard any sound of joy. He sees Meg and Ace walking into camp, Meg playfully shoving the grinning gambler while snickering at something the other says. Considering the last time he saw Meg, the girl was crying angry tears and kicking at a tree yelling about how unfair everything was, this is a vast improvement.
“Now shh,” David hears Ace hiss to the sprinter, before turning to face the rest of the camp. “Hello, friends! How are we this lovely evening?”
“Just got out of a trial with Plague where she left me on the ground and puked on me until I bled out,” Yui deadpans. “You?”
Meg offers a sympathetic cringe while Ace tries not to let his smile falter.
“You both get out?” David asks, wanting to shift the focus back to the earlier good mood.
“Yes!” Ace chirps enthusiastically. “I found a key and we managed to get out through the hatch!”
“You somehow did three gens against that tunneling yeehaw fuckface? Just the two of you?” Quentin asks skeptically. David remembers the teen ranting about both him and Jake being mori’d by the Deathslinger only a few minutes into the trial, before a single generator had yet to be completed.
“You know Meg’s a good runner,” Ace explains, giving the girl a pointed look. Meg is biting her lip to try to suppress a grin and failing miserably, but she eventually nods in agreement.
There are a few raised eyebrows and unconvinced glances being thrown around, but everyone seems to accept the explanation and return to their tasks. David looks back down to sharpening one of the shivs he keeps on hand for trials, and can’t help the beginning of a smirk forming; maybe their luck’s finally starting to turn around.
More people trickle in and out of trials, and it has to be over an hour before David hears another commotion.
“You piece of shit!” Zarina is yelling, standing next to Tapp and glaring in Ace’s direction.
“Hey now, calm down—” Ace hurries to explain, raising his hands in surrender and glancing over his shoulder to see who else is watching. Huh; that’s not suspicious at all.
“What’s going on?” Jane interrupts, approaching the scene.
“These guys are gonna sneak out to have fun!” Zarina exclaims. “I heard him tell Ash and Bill, and now Tapp!” she says, scowling at Ace.
“Ace, is that true?” Jane asks, hands on her hips.
“No, no! I just—” Ace flounders while Tapp merely snorts in amusement. “Well. Yes.”
As soon as the words leave the gambler’s mouth, half of the camp erupts into questions.
“Where are you going?” Steve asks excitedly.
“You really thought we wouldn’t find out?” Feng huffs.
“Ooh, sounds like fun! Who wants to come?” Kate beams.
“Why wouldn’t you invite everyone in the first place?” Adam scolds.
“Calm down,” Ace says. “I might have been invited to a poker game in the saloon—a small scale gathering,” he not-so-subtly hints.
David chuckles as he hears the others loudly protest at being left out, indignant cries of “not fair!”, “sexism!” and “I’d totally beat your ass at poker!” echoing across the small campground.
And that’s how the entire group eventually ends up trekking through the woods in the direction of Glenvale. David would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited; he’s not the best poker player by any means, but he always did love a night out with drinks and games. Hopefully the saloon has some booze.
“Chin up, mate,” David grins, elbowing a sulking Ace in the ribs. “Gonna be a fun night.”
“Oh man, I can’t wait to see the look on the cowboy’s face!” Meg says, grinning from ear to ear.
“You think his jaw’s gonna fall off?” Nea eggs on.
“As long as he doesn’t shoot us,” Laurie frowns, not all that excited to tag along to a killer’s realm.
“You know he’s only going to shoot me, because this was ’my’ idea,” Ace sing-songs with fake enthusiasm.
“Eh, nothing of value was lost,” Yui shrugs with a smirk.
They finally arrive in the small desert town, and as they approach the saloon, David shoves Ace in front of the group.
“I’ll take a harpoon for ya if things get ugly,” David promises, but Ace still doesn’t look happy, squinting at him behind his shades.
When their group is almost at the saloon doors, there’s the unmistakable sound of a rifle being cocked coming from above them.
“What the hell do ya think yer doin’?” the Deathslinger drawls menacingly, balancing his rifle on the bannister of the balcony and aiming his sights down on them.
“Hey, buddy,” Ace starts nervously, stepping forward from the group and raising his hands above his head in surrender, causing the rifle to shift to aim at him. “So turns out, everyone is really eager to play poker—"
“’S that so?” the killer says, and David can’t make out his expression due to the shadow his hat casts on his face. He would appreciate a warning, if the killer did end up firing his gun.
“And, well, they didn’t exactly take ‘no’ for an answer,” Ace jokes. “This is actually somewhat of a hostage situation, now that I think about it.”
The rifle switches to point at David, and he’s completely fine with it. Better him than Ace, or any of the others.
“Any of ya break anythin’—” the killer starts menacingly.
“We’re getting harpooned from ass to mouth, we know!” Quentin exclaims cheerfully. The killer takes some more time to glare at the group, before lifting his rifle away.
“Fine, get in,” the cowboy grumbles.
“Score,” Meg whispers smugly.
The saloon seems different, now that David isn’t running through it for his life. As he takes in the worn décor, the smell of old wood, and realizes the bar is actually stocked, he starts feeling right at home. It’s almost like one of the run-down pubs he used to frequent in Manchester.
“Did you clean?” Feng pipes up, running a finger down a table and inspecting it in an obnoxious manner. “It’s not filthy like usual.”
The killer tenses and for a second David fears for the girl’s life. At least it wasn’t him that put his foot in his mouth this time.
“Didn’t yer ma ever teach ya manners, girl?” the killer eventually spits. “’S polite to clean when yer expectin’ company.”
“It’s also polite not to murder people,” Laurie argues.
Jesus fucking Christ, could these people try to not pick a fight for five seconds? If even David is able to leave his grudges on the shelf just for one night, surely the others can too.
“Laurie,” Jane says sternly, a warning in her voice. “Let’s not forget that we’re guests.”
The girl glares at the killer one last time, before shoving her way through their small crowd to start whispering with Cheryl.
There’s a tense silence looming over them, and the killer clearly isn’t pleased with his home being invaded and then criticized. David recognizes the tension in the air from his many bar fights; one wrong move and all hell can break loose, effectively cutting their night off short before it can even begin.
“Excuse me, sir,” Kate says sweetly, pushing past David to stand in front of the group. “Do ya mind if I play the piano?” she asks, cocking her head in the direction of the instrument.
“Knock yerself out,” the Deathslinger says, some of the tension seeming to dissipate from his rigid posture.
“You got a poker table set up?” Ace is quick to use the small breakthrough to his advantage, eager to distract the angry man with a gun from potentially murdering them all.
“Yeah, in the back. Which ones of ya rats’re playin’?” the killer asks, addressing the group.
“Oh, that would be me and Tapp, Bill and Ash!” Ace exclaims before Zarina or Feng can protest. “Come on, gentlemen!”
“Not fair!” Yui complains.
“You kids play nice,” Ash grins before disappearing into the back room with the others.
There’s a few seconds of silence, only Kate playing a gentle tune on the piano.
“I mean, they left us with an open bar,” Nea points out, and everyone springs into action, flocking to the bar.
A few minutes later and with a whiskey now in hand, David spots something on one of the saloon’s walls.
“Ey, a dartboard!” he exclaims happily. “Who wants to play?”
Predictably, Feng forces everyone to participate, making it a competition. Probably still pissed about the poker, David would guess.
It turns out that some of the survivors don’t even know how to play the game, so David starts teaching Dwight, Claudette and Nancy while most of the others proceed to get increasingly more drunk on whatever mystery liquor they find in the bar.
With everyone finally on board with the rules, Feng announces the tournament to begin.
“Watch this,” Nea says cockily, taking the darts from David’s hand as nobody else has volunteered to go first. The girl gets into position, takes aim, and—
Proceeds to miss the board entirely, the tip of the dart embedding into the saloon wall.
“Need sum glasses, luv?” David snarks, earning him a heated glare from the tagger.
They finish the first round, and everyone more or less sucks. David used to be a good at darts, winning most who would challenge him even when he was drunk off his ass, but he’s rusty from not having played for years.
There’s some highlights, like Steve pulling his hand way too far back and ending up throwing the dart like a wet noodle, causing it to hit the board sideways and clatter to the ground.
“Man, you throw like a girl,” Yui sasses.
Claudette, to everyone's surprise, is a goddamn virtuoso despite never playing before. The woman flusters at everyone cheering when she wins the first round by a landslide.
“I’m so sorry! I swear I’ve never played before!” she explains to a salty Feng.
“Rematch!” Feng demands.
“Yeah no, I’m done,” Nea exclaims, going to tend the bar. Only David, Claudette, Feng, Yui and Zarina remain, which David doesn’t mind—less waiting and more time for him to play.
David takes a few rounds to warm up, but in the end he starts winning consistently. Claudette’s beginner’s luck runs out and Yui gets increasingly pissed at his success and only ends up sabotaging herself.
After five rounds, nobody wants to challenge him anymore and David grins victoriously. He’s shooed away to the bar by Zarina while her, Yui and Feng keep playing on their own.
He’s in the middle of getting another drink and pretending to listen to Adam’s history lesson about the Wild West era when the killer walks into the room.
At the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the bar, Adam goes quiet next to him and Meg’s laughter at Jeff’s joke cuts off mid-snicker.
“Hi, welcome to McDonald’s,” Nea addresses the killer while leaning on the bar counter, not missing a beat. “Can I take your order?”
“Gimme two bottles of whiskey an’ five glasses,” the killer says, eyeing the girl with some sort of amusement. “An’ don’t expect a tip.”
“You got it,” Nea grins, doing a two-finger salute and moving to procure the items from the cabinets.
“Any of ya manage to win against Ace?” David asks the killer.
“O’course,” the killer huffs. “Though he ain’t terrible.”
“Yeah, ‘cause ‘e cheats,” David snorts.
“Really now?” the killer asks, turning to him with a curious smirk.
“Lemme play an’ I’ll show ya,” David challenges, eager to play more of the games. It sure beats staring at a campfire for twenty-three hours a day.
The Deathslinger seems to mull over the suggestion, turning back to the bar to accept the items from Nea.
“Right this way,” the killer eventually offers, cocking his head in the direction of the back room.
“Hey kid!” Ash greets David when he follows the Deathslinger into the poker room. “Finally get to join the big boys table, huh?”
“More for me to win!” Ace chirps. “What’re you betting, Davey?”
“Got some gateaus back at camp,” David says. “How many?”
“Five will do!” Ace says, handing him five stacks of poker chips.
Over the first few games, David quickly learns that despite him being rusty as hell, there's not much competition.
The Deathslinger seems to be severely out of practice, seeming to be on quite the losing streak, if the meager stack of chips in front of him is anything to go by.
Bill, who is usually quite good at poker, looks to have mellowed out a lot from getting to smoke one of the cigars on the table, most likely courtesy of the killer. The veteran looks calmer than David has ever seen, almost like he was baked, as he savors the rare treat and barely seems to focus on the game.
Ash keeps running his mouth, apparently to distract his opponents but also somehow managing to distract himself, often forgetting his turn and barely paying attention to what the others are doing.
Meanwhile, Tapp has the absolute worst poker face of the bunch, always glaring at his cards if he has a bad hand and not seeming to grasp the concept of bluffing.
David on the other hand isn’t doing too badly, his long nights in the English nightlife coming to use as he manages to bluff a few of the others into folding and takes risks that mostly pay off. And he'd probably win most rounds, too…
If Ace didn't fucking keep cheating.
The gambler doesn't even bother to hide it very well, always managing to clutch the card he needs by "pure luck" or getting way too many strong-value hands one after another. All the while he keeps running his mouth in a way that is probably supposed to appear pleasant, but David knows is meant to throw them off their game.
But David doesn't have proof, so he keeps quiet and observes, not wanting Ace to get suspicious. He just needs him to slip up—
There.
Despite David's having a pretty good poker face, he can't help the victorious smirk from settling onto his face.
“Uh-oh boys, looks like King's got a hand this round,” Ash quips, causing Tapp to immediately fold, despite it not even being his turn.
“Call,” the Deathslinger says, giving him a wary glance under the brim of his hat.
“I'm out,” Bill says, folding his hand before he leans back in the chair and takes a long drag of the cigar. Maybe David should be bothered by the thick smoke right next to him, but it only reminds him of the less than legal bars back home, almost making him nostalgic.
“What's the move, kid?” Ash grins when David is taking longer than he'd like, but David can see the nerves under the fake grin the man puts on.
David smirks, taking one of his poker chips, slowly inching it across the table to the pile already there.
“Oh, the suspense is killing me,” Ace quips sarcastically from across him and then, as suspected, gets bored and glances to the door leading to the rest of the party.
And David, quick as lightning, grabs the barely visible card up the cuff of Ace's sleeve.
There's a few seconds of silence when everyone stares at the card, Ace's eyes frantically darting around under the shades.
“Wow, neat magic trick, King!” Ace tries to joke. “You should show me how to—”
“Visconti,” the killer drawls, slowly lifting his gaze from the card in David's hand to Ace's face, making the gambler falter. “Ya wouldn't be cheatin' in my house, would ya?”
“Why, Mr. Quinn, I would never!” Ace gasps, scandalized. “Only some light maneuvering of cards, all in the spirit of the game—”
“I don’ like liars,” the Deathslinger says, reaching for his rifle.
“Okay, okay!” Ace panics, raising his hands in surrender. “Don't shoot!”
The killer's hand stops mid-air, considering his next move, and David feels himself tense up. Despite Ace probably deserving it, pushing his luck like this, David’s definitely throwing himself over the table and tackling the killer to the ground if he dares to get violent with any of them.
“Eh, I vote shoot him,” Ash says nonchalantly.
“Good riddance,” Tapp agrees, and the fact that the detective with his strong sense of justice is agreeing so easily lets David in on the fact that this is just some kind of joke.
“I appreciate the support,” Ace quips at the men. “Come on, Caleb! We're friends, aren't we?” Ace says, turning back to the killer, and looking to be doing some sort of imitation of… puppy eyes.
Gross.
Miraculously, it seems to work on the cowboy, who after scrutinizing Ace for a little while, scoffs in disgust and leans back over the table.
“Deal me in,” the killers says.
“Absolutely—” Ace agrees with a grin, reaching for the pack of cards.
“Not you,” the Deathslinger hisses. “Yer banned from the game.”
“Aww,” Ace whines. “But fair.”
“Detective should deal,” Caleb says, nodding towards a clearly surprised Tapp. “Only one worth trusting outta you lot.”
“True,” Bill mutters.
“What's that supposed to mean?” Ash scoffs.
David snorts as a non-answer, knowing the man wouldn’t even think twice about cheating, if he only knew how.
They play a few more rounds, David quickly winning back what he lost before since people are now playing fair.
Ace keeps running his mouth and offering unwanted advice to the killer, peering over his shoulder to point at the cards and getting his hand slapped away with an annoyed grunt every single time.
David stays another couple rounds just to make sure Ace doesn’t get gutted by a harpoon gun, before he decides to take his leave.
“’M out lads,” David says as he folds his hand and moves to stand up from the table. “Good game.”
“First time ‘m hearin’ that in a while,” the killer mutters.
“Geegee eezee kid,” Ash grins at David despite having been completely destroyed by him, as if proving the killer’s point.
“Make sure the others don’t drink themselves to death,” Tapp offers.
“I’ll try,” David huffs, and with that, he is off from the cramped and smoke-filled poker room.
He’s about to make his way to the bar to look for a beer, when he’s intercepted by a wobbly, red-faced, and extremely drunk Dwight.
“Hey! Hey you!” Dwight calls out, slurring and stumbling in front of David.
“Ya alright there, leader?” David snorts, reaching a hand out to try to steady the man. He couldn’t have been in there for more than an hour, and somehow Dwight had managed to drink himself into such a ridiculous state already.
“I wanna fight!” Dwight exclaims drunkenly, shoving David’s hand away.
“Mate, ya don’t wanna fight, trust me,” David huffs in amusement, crossing his arms to observe the normally reserved man squinting at him as he sways on his feet.
It doesn’t surprise David that Dwight is a lightweight. What does surprise—though mostly amuse—him, is how cocky he apparently becomes when under the influence.
“M’ gonna show you what I’m made of!” Dwight threatens, taking a wild swing in David’s direction.
Unfortunately, he misses by a mile and ends up toppling over from the momentum, crashing to the floor in an inelegant pile of limbs.
David tries not to laugh at their leader’s drunk misery, but he doesn’t blame who he thinks is Feng howling with laughter somewhere behind them.
“You okay there buddy?” a worried and slightly amused Steve hurries to the scene, kneeling down beside his friend on the floor.
“You should see the other guy,” Dwight mumbles, still faceplanted on the floor, but at least notifying them that he didn’t manage to knock himself out with his stunt.
David and Steve help the man upright and David leaves him with Steve, now needing that drink even more than previously.
So he sidles up to the bar, which Nea is still manning, clearly having observed the spectacle judging by her mischievous grin.
“Wha’ the hell didya give ‘im?” David asks the tagger.
“Oh, I poured half and half of these,” the woman says, placing two bottles on the table. “I call it the ‘Dwight special’.”
“Bourbon and rum?” David recognizes. “Tha’s nothin’ but hard booze!”
“I know!” Nea exclaims gleefully. “He needs to loosen up!”
David doesn’t argue, figuring that Dwight almost knocking himself out and now hanging mostly limp against Steve while he slurs some drunken sentiments kind of counts as him loosening up.
“Gimme a shot of something,” David orders, shaking his head in amusement.
“You got it, boss,” she says with that same damn grin, letting David in on his inevitable doom.
While Nea is preparing the mystery shot for him, Jake approaches the bar with grim determination on his features, and David prepares for another drunken fight.
“Oi mate, don’ hurt yerself—” David says, trying to stop the survivalist, when Jake…
Walks past him and starts trying to climb the bar.
“Jake,” Nancy warns from the corner of the bar where she’s sitting with Adam, both looking to be drinking water like sensible people. “Jake, what are you doing?” she hisses.
Jake keeps climbing onto the bar with single-minded determination, and David only now notices he has a broom in his hand. Finally, Jake is standing on top of the counter with shaky legs, taking a deep breath, grabbing the broom, and—
“COUNTRY ROOOADS,” Jake belts out, positioning the broom between his legs like a wooden horse.
“Jake get down from there—” Nancy hisses while Adam keeps looking into his drink and trying to be polite, but cringes from the off-key singing.
“Oh my god!” Nea manages before she bursts out laughing, leaning against a pillar for support while she wheezes.
“TAKE ME HOOOME,” Jake keeps going, now rocking back and forth on the broom and raising his other hand above his head, swinging it around like a lasso.
And David fucking loses it.
He doubles over in laughter, loud guffaws coming out as he leans down on the bar, laughing wholeheartedly at their resident gloomy saboteur performing drunk, impromptu karaoke.
“I can’t breathe—” Nea wheezes, laughing harder as Jake keeps going.
“TOO THE PLAAACE—”
“Jake what the fuck!” Nancy still tries, and even Adam has given up, shaking from quiet laughter.
“I BELOOOONG!” Jake bellows, raising his hand even higher, standing up on his tiptoes—
Before promptly topping over and crashing down behind the counter.
“HAHAHAHA!” Nea is now kneeling on the floor from her laughter and David isn’t faring much better, cackling against his arms where he’s now completely hunched over, barely managing shaky breaths between the wheezes.
“Are you alright?” Nancy panics, peering over the bar. “Guys, stop laughing!” she scolds.
“I’m alive,” Jake’s voice, hoarse from the singing, pipes up.
“Okay, okay,” Nea says, wiping tears from her eyes but seeming to get herself together. “Let’s get you up, dude.”
David manages to collect himself while the two women help Jake back up on his feet. Fortunately, the fall doesn’t seem to have wounded more than the man’s ego, as he quietly sits down next to Adam and obediently starts drinking the pint of water Nancy hands him.
When Nea looks to have forgotten all about David’s drink in favor of bonking Jake on the head with the broom, David grabs the nearest bottle and sets to exploring the rest of the saloon.
He walks past Kate still sitting by the piano, Jeff apparently having joined her at some point. The artist seems to be decent at the instrument too, playing an upbeat melody and Kate accompanying him by singing nonsensical tunes.
David walks by the dart board where Feng is somehow still playing, staring at the board with a death glare while aiming her dart. Thankfully, the others seem to have come to their senses, Yui and Zarina having joined Jane in sharing a bottle of gin and looking to be deeply immersed in a piece of random gossip.
He continues to the terrace of the saloon where some of the younger survivors are hanging out, meaning to check on them to see that nobody dies of alcohol poisoning, but notices they aren’t even drinking.
Instead, Laurie is standing in front of the group with one of the killer’s harpoons in her hands. The music and someone’s loud laughter from inside the saloon covers her voice, but based on her grim expression and the stabbing motion she’s doing with the spear, it’s not hard to guess her violent meaning.
Her audience, consisting of Cheryl and Quentin, are raptly watching the demonstration. Cheryl is nodding eagerly in agreement while Quentin looks to be deep in thought, and then there’s a sudden lull in the noise from the saloon and David can make out the words “Freddy” and “skewered” from the insomniac’s mouth.
Chuckling to himself, David decides to leave the teens to it. As he turns around, he notices a small group gathering on the other side of the street.
Dwight is hunched over and looks to be puking into a bush, and after the display David saw earlier he’s not surprised. However, Claudette is hovering next to Dwight and Steve is patting him on the back in encouragement.
Knowing their leader is in good hands, David continues inside the building, intending to check back in on the poker game.
But he never makes it that far, because in the doorway Meg nearly barrels into him, and he quickly sidesteps as the girl sprint bursts away laughing.
“‘Ey, watch it!” David calls after her—
And then he notices she’s wearing a cowboy hat.
Heavy footsteps approach and David turns to see the Deathslinger walking out of the poker room, rifle in hand and a grim expression on his face, pointedly missing his hat.
“Oh, shit!” Feng exclaims, dropping one of her darts on the floor in her haste to get away from the angry man with the gun.
“Come on bud, the girl didn’t mean anything by it—Fuck!” Ash comes up by the killer to try to defuse, but only gets smacked in the face by the butt of his rifle instead.
“Where is she,” the killer demands from the group of women by the door, not even sparing a glance at Ash and his now bleeding nose.
David sees Yui’s face twist into anger, and then she’s opening her mouth to no doubt give the killer a few choice words for intending to hurt her friend.
“Hey now, we’re all friends here!” Ace, thankfully doing something right, slinks between the killer and the racer to de-escalate, a pleasant smile on his face.
“Red’s dead,” the killer snarls. “Nobody touches the hat.”
“I knew you were just a savage,” Yui snarks with a glare.
“Yui—” Zarina tries to intervene, placing a hand on the Japanese woman’s shoulder that only gets shrugged off.
“You’re all the same, every single one of you,” Yui hisses at the killer. “Just mindless fucking monsters.”
As David sees the pure rage on the killer’s face, he knows he has three seconds at most before someone is getting shot.
But Ace beats him to it.
One second, the killer is lifting his rifle to take aim, nothing but bloodlust in his eyes, and the next, he’s leaned over in an awkward angle with his eyes wide in surprise as their completely, absolutely, batshit insane gambler teammate has pulled him down by his lapels into a kiss.
For a moment, David swears the entire party holds their breath, either out of fear or just plain shock as they wait for the killer’s reaction.
And then the rifle clatters to the floor and the Deathslinger shoves Ace against the nearest wall and sets to returning the kiss and David doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disgusted.
“Okay, party’s over!” a furiously blushing Jane announces, hurrying to get up from her seat. “Back to the campfire!”
“Calm down, they’re just kissing—” Kate starts.
“OUT!” Jane demands, pointing at the exit.
Nobody dares to argue, the saloon quickly emptying as nobody wants to stick around to find out just how far Ace is willing to push his luck. Bill and David are the last to leave, Bill busy stuffing his pockets with cigars while the killer is distracted, David because he’s hesitant to leave their teammate alone with a man that was just about to murder them all in cold blood.
So he lingers behind, waiting for the two men to separate so he can ask Ace if he’s alright to be left alone.
And then he waits some more.
And even more…
And they’re still fucking going, glued to each other’s faces.
“Come on, son,” Bill grunts, at last re-emerging from the poker room with a bottle of whiskey under his arm.
“But Ace—” David protests.
“Is fine,” Bill interrupts. “Aren’t you Ace?” he hollers in the direction of the man who they can barely see, covered by the tall killer’s back.
There’s a faint grunt and then a pink-sleeved arm is raised up to the side, doing a shooing motion before giving them a thumbs-up.
And that’s as good of a sign as any to David, so he happily follows Bill out of the saloon.
They meet up with the rest of the group in the street, Steve laughing his ass off after someone apparently filled him in on the details, Laurie clutching the harpoon in a death grip while staring at the saloon doors, and Jake sprawled out in the middle of the road stargazing. Even Meg has rejoined the group, twirling around and flaunting the hat that nearly just got them all killed.
“Everyone’s here,” Nancy sighs in clear exasperation. “Can we leave now?”
“Please,” Claudette says, worriedly glancing between Dwight and Jake.
David takes it upon himself to hoist the drunk Jake up on his feet, supporting the saboteur’s weight as the group starts slowly making their way back to the campfire.
“Let’s not do this again anytime soon,” Jeff suggests, and a chorus of tired agreement follows.
“I dunno, I had fun,” Ash shrugs.
“You got clocked in the face,” Zarina deadpans.
“Is it really a party if somebody doesn’t end up with a broken nose?” Ash grins.
“Um, yes?” Jane says. “And we are not doing this again since clearly, people don’t even know how to handle their liquor!”
“Shut up… mom,” Dwight mumbles drunkenly, swaying where he’s leaned against Steve for support.
“Oh hey, he lives!” Steve grins, nudging the man with his elbow.
David hears Jake groan something unintelligible against his shoulder.
“Wha’ was ‘at, mate?” he grunts in amusement, jostling the boy to address him.
“I wanna be a gay cowboy”, Jake mutters in what sounds like defeat, staring wistfully at Dwight leaning on Steve.
“Here, you can have this!” Meg says, coming up beside them and placing the stolen hat on Jake’s head.
“My life is complete,” Jake says, offering a drunk smile before promptly passing out.
As David curses and scrambles to support the now dead weight in his arms, he realizes that despite his friends making the night much more dramatic than it should have been, it’s the most fun he’s had in years—even before this realm.
Because he never had friends like these, and nothing can ruin it for him, not the threat of being shot, or Meg’s obnoxious gloating, or even the faint smell of puke in the air.
It was exactly what they needed and they’re definitely doing it again, Jane’s protests be damned.