Glory Be

Chapter Thirty-Four

"Ohh..." Falcon turned their head to look at Isaiah, "Someone caught on."

"What? Falcon?" Sydney squirmed against Falcon's grip which hadn't waned, "Let me go."

"Close the door kid," Falcon commanded Isaiah.

With a moment of silent hesitation Isaiah did so. Sydney watched his cautious movements and tried not to look too nervous.

"Okay, it's closed," Isaiah said after pressing the door shut, "Let Sydney go. He hasn't done anything."

Falcon squinted and looked back at Sydney. He got a better look at their face then. The deep burn scar which had burnt their left eyebrow to a crisp. The under-eye bags, Their brown eyes. The green scarf and what hid underneath. A long throat scar now healed up pink. Falcon held their nose up at Sydney and sniffed.

"We're matching," Falcon spied Sydney's gaze on their facial scar, then demanded in a cool tone, "Drop the knife you have on my side, then I'll release you."

Sydney pouted his lip before grimacing. He audibly groaned then looked at Isaiah. His big brown doe eyes were just saying one thing: drop it. It felt like a stupid thing to do. To be unarmed around the number one outlaw in the west, but hey, why not. There wasn't much a knife could do against a gun anyways.

"Fine..." Sydney sighed. He dropped the knife and heard it cling against the ground.

Falcon immediately let up. Dropping their gun to their side and moving their foot to press the knife into the ground. Sydney stared at it fruitlessly as he caught his breath. In a second Isaiah was by his side, eyeing his neck for wounds.

"What do you want?" Isaiah asked, his tone lowering.

Falcon tugged at their scarf. The fabric loosened and fell more around their shoulders instead of their neck. The throat scar was now on full display. It made Sydney want to puke. How could someone survive a slit throat.

"Just trying to evade detection before I dip out of town," Falcon replied. Their voice stepping around every word with care.

"So, it was you," Isaiah started. Sydney's eyes darted to look at him. His chest was held high, but it wasn't moving, "You shot someone in the saloon?"

Falcon didn't look shaken by the question. Their eyes gleamed with recognition, as if it was nostalgic memory.

"I did."

"Why?" Isaiah immediately asked.

Sydney's mouth parted at Isaiah's forwardness. How wasn't he scared? They were in the presence of Falcon of all outlaws. Sydney didn't think he could even talk if he wanted to. He nervously began to fidget with his sleeves. The rhythmic tick usually helped, but it seemed to just make everything worse.

"The dealer accused me of cheating," Falcon said back, their voice laid monotone. The line sounded rehearsed, "I don't cheat."

"You killed a man for an accusation?" The words fell off of Sydney's tongue. His eyes widened at his boldness.

"Accusations are dangerous," Falcon gritted their teeth.

In a single swoop they picked up the knife and pocketed it. They began to flip their gun within their grip and pace in front of the boys. Sydney felt the need to hold Isaiah next to him but decided not to move.

"So, boys," Falcon blew imaginary smoke off of their gun, "How do I get out of here? I don't want to out stay my welcome."

"We're not going to help you," Sydney spat.