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Goodnight, Vasquez, Billy, and Faraday were spending the evening at the saloon.
Vasquez sat across from Faraday, and Goodnight and Billy leaned against a wall nearby.
It was simply just an outing for a drink or two, when Faraday noticed that this establishment in particular had cue tables, some with pockets and some without.
“Hey, anyone up for a game of pool?” he turned towards the rest of the group, who were amidst a conversation.
“Maybe next time, Irishman.” Goodnight politely declined with a smile.
“Sorry guerito, pool’s not my thing.” Vasquez leaned against the table, taking a sip of his drink.
“Aw, come on, really?” Faraday raised an eyebrow, slightly disappointed. He turned his attention towards Billy, who probably ignored his question.
He smirked to himself, an idea coming to mind.
Faraday sighed. “Man, I would've asked Billy to play against me, but, what's the point if there's no actual challenge?” he feigned disappointment, putting his drink down.
Billy, confused, turned to Faraday.
“What does that mean?” he raised an eyebrow, an annoyed expression already on his face.
Faraday internally grinned at Billy’s reaction, pleased that his little idea seemed to be working.
“It’s just that, I don't know, if we were to play a match, it's pretty obvious that I’d come out on top.” Faraday continued, putting his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his palm.
“I mean, would you even be able to see what you're hitting?”
That last sentence seemed to set Billy off. He glared at Faraday and his smug expression, putting his glass down harder than he would've normally.
“Fine then.” Billy frowned, grabbing a cue stick off the rack. “Let’s play.”
Faraday externally grinned this time, getting up from the table and grabbing a cue stick as well.
And with that, a “friendly” round of pool commenced between Faraday and Billy.
There was no prize if you won, just the feeling of victory and the privilege to rub that in the other's face.
With Faraday away from his seat, Goodnight joined Vasquez at the table.
The evening just got a whole lot more interesting.
After winning the lag, Faraday broke apart the balls, starting the game. Billy was quick to pocket a ball, assigning him to the solid ones and Faraday to the striped ones.
Considering how strategic both men were, the game was bound to be lengthy, not to mention tense.
Vasquez and Goodnight, sitting at the table nearby, watched as Faraday and Billy played against each other, sipping their drinks as they did.
“Who do you think is gonna win?” Goodnight asked Vasquez, keeping his eyes on the game as he tilted his head towards the other man.
“Billy, hopefully.” he replied, raising his voice just enough for Faraday to hear him, grinning as he gave him an annoyed look.
Internally, he was rooting for Faraday, but he wouldn't just voice his bias out loud.
Goodnight couldn't help but chuckle at the obvious tease, bringing his glass up to his lips and taking a sip.
Obviously, he was rooting for Billy to win. He was one of his best men, after all.
So what if he was a bit biased as well?
As the game continued, the tenser the atmosphere became and the longer Faraday and Billy had to think about their moves. There were a few mocking jabs to try and throw the other off, but it proved useless to sabotage the other. At this point, it was just to fill the relative silence.
“Relative silence” because Vasquez and Goodnight were making their own comments from the sidelines, keeping their voices low as to not distract the two competitors.
At some point, even they were silent from how invested the two were in the game.
At least, that's what they tried to make it look like to the other.
It was unknown to Billy, but Vasquez noticed how Goodnight focused on him. Following his eyes, his gaze seemed to be trailing down somewhere else than the cue table.
“Something caught your eye, huh?” he nudged Goodnight, snapping the Cajun out of his little trance.
“You seemed a little distracted yourself, Texican.” Goodnight huffed, noticing how Vasquez was staring at Faraday earlier.
Vasquez chuckled at that, not being able to deny that he was caught, too.
“Both of us aren't so innocent, it seems.” Goodnight laughed as he shook his head.
The two snapped their attention back to the game once they heard the 8-ball being pocketed.
“I’m not blind, Faraday.” Billy glared at him, putting the cue stick back.
“Okay, okay, I know that.” Faraday rolled his eyes, hanging his cue stick back on the rack as well. “I only said that so you’d play with me. No hard feelings, alright?”
Faraday put his hand out.
“Good game.”
Billy looked down at his hand, before clasping his left against Faraday’s right, a small smile on his face.
“Good game.” Billy nodded as he shook his hand.
Faraday was about to let go, when Billy pulled him closer, a very obvious frown on his face.
“Don't ever make those remarks about me again,” he whispered.
“I don't care if you’re joking,” he shook his head.
“Hey, didn't I say no hard feelings?” Faraday chuckled, putting his free hand up in defense.
“Relax, Billy, I won't.”
He gave Faraday a “you better mean that” kind of look, before letting go of his hand and walking towards the table, sitting next to Goodnight.
Faraday sighed in relief, before sitting down next to Vasquez.
“That's my Billy!” Goodnight grinned, putting his arm around his shoulders.
Despite hearing his praise all the time, Billy couldn't help but smile and flush.
He leaned into Goodnight, toasting his drink against his and taking a sip.
“He handed your ass right to you, cabrón.” Vasquez laughed, nudging the clearly annoyed Faraday.
“I think it was a close game, thank you very much.” he grumbled, gulping down the last of his drink.
He was one ball down before the 8-ball, but Billy was just a tiny bit faster than him, is all.
“He's right, he almost beat me there.” Billy admitted, glancing up at Faraday, who smiled when he came to his defense, despite being quite irritated with him.
The evening went on as it did. After bidding their farewells, the men parted their separate ways, bound to meet up again tomorrow.