the ghost of you still haunts me now.

[gunpoints]

Comments

[peacemakers]

[ His eyes narrow in an apparent glower, but that good humor still dances in his eyes, flickers at the corner of his mouth.

Truthfully, her teasing did little to damage his overblown sense self-worth. More’s the pity, really, considering the size of his pride. ]

You’re lucky I’m not willin’ to part with these cards just yet. [ This, in a good-natured sort of grumble. He snaps a card off the deck, holding it up between two fingers.] Otherwise I’d flick this straight at that smug little smile’a’ yours.

[gunpoints]

All the better for you, then.

[ she props her elbow on the table, her palm cradling her chin as she looks at him, that smug look not quite budging. ]

You wouldn't be gettin' that card back.

[peacemakers]

[ A low level sort of glare before he drops the card back atop the deck, his shoulders sagging as he lets out a long breath. ]

Frankly, I deserve a sainthood for this ill-treatment you heap on me. [ Though he says it without any heat or resentment. ] I’m startin’ to think you only let me hang around on account of my thick skin.

[gunpoints]

I was not aware the requirements for saintliness had been lowered so terribly.

[ she just lifts her eyebrows at him a touch, that unimpressed expression mingling with the tinted smugness in the crook of her lips. ]

I keep you around for many reasons, Faraday. Most of which are hardly relatin' to your good nature.

[peacemakers]

[ He snorts out a little laugh at that, hands running over the cards. ]

Lemme guess.

[ The cards snapping as he riffles two packets together. ]

My ability to fetch things from high places probably factors pretty favorably, don't it?

[gunpoints]

Of course.

[ she lifts one finger, like she's actually counting off why she keeps him around. ]

I find you're a far sight more convenient than a stool.

[ she holds up a second finger, obviously trying to keep the smile off of her face now. ]

Not havin' to sleep, you're awake plenty early enough to start the coffee. Something also in your favor.

[peacemakers]

[ He levels that unimpressed look her way, an eyebrow arching. ]

You sure on that one?

As I recall, someone had complaints as to the quality of the coffee I produced.

[gunpoints]

[ emma lifts an eyebrow right back. ]

Some people don't care to drink black sludge passed as coffee in the morning. But the second attempt wasn't godawful, so that was appreciated.

Besides, now that you can drink it yourself, it might be more palatable.

[ now she's offering to share her coffee, kind soul that she is. ]

[peacemakers]

[ He huffs out a laugh, trying to feign a look of offense but not quite hitting the mark. ]

"Wasn't godawful." Well, now, isn't that just the prettiest sorta compliment?

[ He shakes his head, seemingly in disapproval. ]

Ain't no fault of mine that you drink coffee as weak as all that. Might as well be drinkin' water, at that point.

[gunpoints]

[ emma scoffs. ]

I would have hoped death might remove "poor taste" from your list of qualities, Mister Faraday, but I suppose, given the proof of your coffee, my hope was misplaced.

[ she summons up a look of disappointment, just for him. ]

An honest shame.

But I'm sure it can be fixed up if you learn to drink coffee proper, rather than black and burnt.

[ shots officially fired over coffee. ]

[peacemakers]

[ He maintains that annoyed glare for all of two seconds before he wrinkles his nose, the corners of his mouth turning downward. ]

Good Lord, you've got some strong opinions on coffee.

[ Faraday smirks, then, huffing out a laugh. ]

Any other sore topics I oughta know about? Some lingerin' thoughts on the proper servin' temperature, for instance?

[gunpoints]

[ emma gives him a skeptical look, but she's mostly trying her damnedest to keep a proper smile off her face still. ]

It oughtn't be so hot I'll have blisters from my first sip.

[ she gives a definitive little nod. ]

I don't particularly fancy a throbbing tongue when I am tryin' to enjoy my coffee.

I will admit, you have tended to serve it at a decent temperature. At least you've gotten that much right.

[peacemakers]

[ For a second, Faraday just snorts to himself. He evidently has a few fleeting thoughts as to the state of tongues that, given the company, he feels it best not to express.

As it is, he presses a hand to his chest, just beneath his throat, and puts on a wide-eyed look. ]

Why, Emma, with praise like that, you might actually move me to tears.

[gunpoints]

[ the smile emma gives him is clearly playing to the rest of the ribbing she's summoned up, in the same way she's been teasing him this whole time. ]

Well, I'd surely hate to see you cry, Joshua, so perhaps I ought to resort to the usual insults instead.

[peacemakers]

[ Faraday heaves out a sigh, tossing up both hands (though he still keeps the deck of cards firmly in his grasp). ]

There's really no winnin' with you, is there?

[ Despite it all, his voice stays light, amused. This is far better than their uncomfortable, strained silence. Than the rift between them, yawning and cold and dark. ]

Just for all this, I'll make doubly sure your next mug of coffee is more bitter and dark than a winter night.

[gunpoints]

Then I suppose I'll know not to drink the next cup you offer me.

[ she gives a shrug, like that's clearly the most obvious solution. ]

Unless I can convince you to make my coffee properly.

[peacemakers]

[ He spreads his hands, grinning in that mischievous, smug way that's uniquely his. ]

And how're you gonna know if I made it "properly"— [ He echoes the word with a touch of irony ] —unless you try it?

Sounds to me like we've got ourselves a bit of a standoff.

[gunpoints]

[ emma lifts her eyebrows at him, like she's expecting a proposed solution. ]

Seems we do indeed.

Why don't you just agree to make my coffee without sabotaging it? As a personal favor.

[peacemakers]

[ He takes a second to consider the question, brow furrowed. His hand runs along his jaw thoughtfully. ]

Or, I could do the opposite of that...

[ Because this option seems just as appealing, for reasons known only to Faraday. ]

[gunpoints]

But then why would I ever trust you with my coffee again?

[ she gives a quiet huff, giving him that unimpressed flat look. ]

[peacemakers]

[ He flashes her a bright, innocent smile. ]

That's sorta the point.

[ Evidently, Faraday is trying to avoid chores, much as he might have when he was a child. ]

[gunpoints]

[ she just sighs at him. ]

Then if you'd prefer, I could give you something else to do.

[ more chores? more chores. ]

I simply thought coffee was a fairly painless ordeal.

[peacemakers]

[ The suggestion earns an overblown scowl, and he pointedly runs his thumb along the edge of his cards, letting the snapping paper speak to his distaste. ]

I'm guessin' this is the third point in my favor, then. Free labor?

[gunpoints]

[ now that gets its own pointed roll of her eyes. ]

You say that like I'm handin' over all the daily work, Faraday. You know well and good it's small things here and there, and that's the most of it.

[ because emma doesn't like asking for help, and rarely, if ever, heaps anything onto faraday unless she literally just doesn't have the hands to do it herself or the time to juggle it all.

she's had to go from having matthew around every day to just— finding her way alone. she's plenty capable of it, but sometimes she needs more than herself to make it all come together, to make sure things don't go neglected. ]

Besides, this is as good as your home too. Might as well do something around here.

[ ...which is the first time emma's ever referred to her house as his "home." ]

[peacemakers]

[ He's about to say something smart and teasing, mouth twisting into one of his more infuriating sorts of smiles of his. Faraday knows he hardly does much of anything, really; no more than a few small tasks that he had volunteered himself for in an effort to keep himself busy.

But that wouldn't stop him from complaining. Simply because that was his main form of discourse.

And he's ready to do more of it, except—

Well. Emma just had to go and say that, didn't shee?

His hands freeze on the cards, and his gaze snaps to her, eyes slightly wide and expression blank. Surprise, more than anything, because Faraday hasn't had a place to call "home" in decades. Not since he was a difficult child, flinching bodily at the use of his full name. Not since he took up drifting from town to town.

For a few long seconds, Faraday can do little more than stare and blink; his command of the English language had always left a little something to be desired, but this is ridiculous.

Eventually thought returns to him, along with a handful of words, and he clears his throat, realizing he's been silent for far too long. His gaze flicks down to his hands. ]

I believe you may have misspoke, there. [ Lightly, in case Emma has a desire to take back her words.

(A distant part of him hopes she doesn't.) ]

Or else, not rightly sure if I heard you right.