SIX-GUN LOVELACE.

he cracks a smile, sure, but she ain't miss the joke. he's always been cynical about the time he's got left. never been hopeful about any happily ever afters. had it been a different time, a different place, maybe even a whole 'nother circumstance, she might've told him to stop smilin' over sad things. quit making jokes about what she dreads. but the time is now, their relationship is over, and so is any moment for her to say such a thing. she's got enough regret as is. she ain't lookin' to sink in it any much more.

dewey clarke, he says, and mae knows the name like she knows every other creature that dares dip into her swamp. he ain't here, but he was, and that's enough information to keep close to her chest. see, the thing about dewey, is that he got himself kicked out days before. been crossin' lines, breakin' rules. if she had been more inclined towards lettin' august in, she might let a hunter do his job— sniff around, take a peek. but he ain't no friend of hers. ain't no lover, either. so, he's more of an enemy, now ain't he?

truthfully, though, he doesn't have a violent bone in his body towards her. it'd be useless. he'd have to use the gun

she must see the way his shoulders drop slightly. his gaze slid towards the hallway again in that second the door shut a little more, trying to look for any more motion, finding none. no visible response, then. either fear or actual true absence. he knows what he'd bet on any day of the week. there's never nothing. if he was new and green to a hunt, he might have walked away. he did, a few times, when he was younger. now august looks back on those times with a kind of pity for his past younger self.

keep pushing, lovelace. dig until there's nothing left to dig up.

"c'mon." he looks at her for a long moment. "you and i both know it's not just you and some bugs in there, mae. every hunter and creature in this state and the next knows that."

word travels fast, as it turns out. what august didn't want, but what he had to do in order to keep the peace.

why'd he come here? because the trail had gone cold at the doorstep. because it was the next logical step in the chain of questions. because he wanted to talk, or see her, or try to do something to end this all right. it had already ended, of course. it was folly. you can't go back in time.

what is he doing here?

"it made sense," he finally says, which is the kind way of summarizing all of those thoughts.

now, he comes huntin' for something else. ain't interested in what lies beneath her skirt. she could lift up the fabric, lure him beneath, drown him in reminders, but she won't. it'd cause more hurt than it'd help, and she knows that he ain't here for old stories. he's slammed the door on memory lane. he's here because he's looking, and he's looking hard. he's losin' focus, though ... and that's where it gets complicated.

she crosses her arms. he stays where he is, posture relaxed.

if he looked tense she might say something about it.

then she jabs a finger at him, and he thinks that maybe the whole nonchalant thing was a mistake. too late now, though. august doesn't flinch back. he did, in fact, come to her doorstep talking a lot of nonsense. that was his mistake.

there's a flicker of a smile at not this century. on anyone else it might be smug. from him, it's just the knowledge that he's got well under a century. born with less than one, and shaving away at that time each and every time he pulls the trigger. so it's a good joke, but only if your last name is lovelace.

"dewey clarke." he says the name heavily. he doesn't carry what he does all that lightly. death is still death, and . "or that's what he's going by. doubt it's his actual name. he's about an inch shorter than me. brown hair, short. little glasses that i doubt he actually needs. likes cards, dice, making pacts in blood." he's not going to talk about what clarke did, exactly. only that he's here, and he doesn't do what he does for no reason.

killing should have purpose, when you choose it. that's one thing august knows well.

august breathes out. his gaze drifts past mae for a moment, towards the hallway. no movement. he's half-expecting the man to scurry out the back while he's standing out front.

listening for it. the slam of the door. nothing yet. that doesn't mean it's not going to happen, any second now. august's hand settles on the grip of the revolver. no threat in it. it's where his hand always comes to rest.

dialogue prompts from close range: wyoming stories by annie proulx.

what kind of a name is _____?

you played me like a deck of cards.

i'd recognize you two miles away.

i wondered if you'd changed your mind.

you don't know what it was like.

how do you know when there's enough of anything?

the trick is patience.

you don't leave until you have to.

there's something wrong with everybody.

it's up to you to know what you can handle.

listen, if it's got four wheels or a dick, you're gonna have trouble with it. guaranteed.

if you don't live here, you can't think how lonesome it gets.

you look like you've tried every dirty thing three times.

what you don't know doesn't hurt you.

it wouldn't do any good to tell ____.

everything i touch falls apart.

i know a shot when i hear one.

you saw your chance and took it.

it's easier than you think, to yield up to the dark impulse.

you can't do like you've been doing.

if you believe that, you'll believe anything.

when you live a long way out, you make your own fun.

it could be weirdly interesting.

you're doing this to spite me, and i know it.

you won't get any cheerleading from me on this one.

you got the stubbornness in you.

you're just like ____. that's no compliment.

i knew you'd be back, one of these days.

look at your hands. they're a mess.

keep your tongue decent.

you want a cup of coffee?

there's something wrong with this government.

fuck the government.

don't ever call me that again.

jesus was the original cowboy.

i don't know how you figured out all this stuff about me.

that's all there is: what you see.

they say we're dumb, but they don't say we're cowards.

i don't want to be looked at.

this will hurt for a minute.

i'll be okay to drive.

sleep where you can find a space.

wake up and get up.

how you got someone to marry you, i don't know.

i want everything there is to want.

it could happen to anyone.

i could have saved myself, if i'd wanted to.

you hate me for telling you, don't you?

you gonna pout?

what you're trying to fix ain't fixable.

you want to know my problems?

i'm glad it's you.

i have to warn you, i can't cook worth a shit.

i got you an extra blanket.

it's nobody's business but ours.

i shouldn't have let you out of my sight.

we got us a fucking situation here.

if you can't fix it, you've gotta stand it.

does this happen to other people?

you know, friend, this is a goddamn bitch of an unsatisfactory situation.

you used to come away easy. it's like seeing the pope now.

we could've had a good life together.

but sometimes, she ain't so sure which, if any, he's become. the days grow dark like the time grows dim, and being without him is like a rainy day in the bayou, on repeat. ain't no sunshine when he's gone— and he's been gone a long, long, time. maybe not as long as it feels, but she stopped countin' the days when she started countin' her tears, because missin' him is like a thunderstorm. the claps and shivers and sizzles of lightning are always a surprise.

AUGUST 'SIX GUN' LOVELACE [@41caliber] : "tell me it was worth it."

and so is he. showin' up at her doorstep, crackin' open that can of sun, splaying light all over her body just by the very suggestion of his smile. it makes her mad. sick with anger. the type of rage that only he gets from her, these days. (that's the other part of love they ain't tell you about. when they get one part of your heart, they get all of it.) tell me it was worth it, he says, and mae has half a mind to slam that door right in his face. but she can't, because she won't, and she's never been good at givin' up.

the west or east coasts have shorelines. out here it's nothing but mud and muck, a blurring where water ends and land begins. it's terrible on every single bit of equipment he carries—gets moisture into vials, ruins boots, stains coats, rusts blades. not amen, though. she stays as glittering and new as the day she was made.

that's a gun for vultures. that's what a man back in oklahoma said once. they like shiny things too.

so that's how he shows up on mae's doorstep, same as he always was.

tries for the crooked, charming smile, all good heart and unloaded gun.

it gets her to open the door, at least.

all the thoughts about the job flee the second that she's staring at him, though. and the conversation goes rotten fast. that's maybe his fault. august asks the wrong things. loses focus. he knows better. this should be a job, and nothing else.

nerve is something he's got. if he didn't, he'd be dead, and they both know it. you used to like me having nerve. that's what he doesn't say, even if he could, because august isn't looking to actually bite today.

"i'm not trying to make a fool out of you, mae." level. calm. hands empty, trying to make himself look as calm as can be. "i know you may not believe it, but i'm not. i know it looks like it, sounds like it, probably feels like it. i know. i just—"

it felt important. i didn't want to walk away without knowing it was worth it.

"… nevermind. let's start this conversation over, alright?"

dialogue prompts from sour cherry: a novel by natalia theodoridou.

has ____ always been a monster?

is there anything more enjoyable in life than being needed?

what a long way you've come.

a name can also be a burden. a curse, even.

you've always been smarter than i am.

you're alive. that's what matters.

you don't believe me. i can tell.

what does it feel like to be you?

what did ___ do? tell me.

do you think everyone is worthy of love? no matter what?

what good is a name to me?

there's still so much living left to do. isn't that always the problem, with grief?

memory doesn't always offer the best counsel.

when people have nothing, hurt is all they have.

why do you tell stories, if you don't know that they're true?

truth is a dangerous thing. it has teeth.

didn't anyone try to stop it?

i don't want to tell this part of the story.

you just get better, alright? that's all you have to do.

your father is nothing like you.

what a vivid imagination you have.

you become what you behold.

maybe you still stand a chance. maybe we both do.

why are your clothes so dirty?

protect the world from what?

i'm so glad you had [name].

i'd like to be so alive i could die.

it's not safe for you here anymore.

i have to go. it might be a while before we see each other again.

i want to do what you do.

the world isn't what you think it is.

i know you're telling the truth.

i can see things most people can't.

aren't heroes supposed to be alone?

i'm sorry. i know it's not the story you wanted.

this is the last time i touch you.

it's not what you are, it's what you choose to do.

every person is a house. there are hidden rooms in all of us.

were you always like this? was i?

i don't know how to love gently.

i know you haven't been sleeping.

in the end, we're all haunted by the ones that came before.

it was never the house that was haunted.

there is no way to escape, and nothing to escape to.

we weren't always so alike.

i learned early how to look away.

you need to face the things that scare you. who knows what will happen if you take your eyes off them?

i can never shake the feeling i'm not where i'm meant to be.

perhaps that is so, if it's what the people say.

the forest makes me feel like i'm being watched.

if i close my eyes tight enough, i can still see everything.

you've always been more clear-eyed than me.

it never occurred to me that i could have asked for help.

i've heard that when you die, you remember everything but your own name.

you're not like the others.

sometimes i come back and i'm sure you won't be here.

it's dreadful. it's perfect.

how is it that you keep finding me?

why aren't i more like ____?

why do you like me?

you can tell a different story, if you want.

i know this story already. i've lived it. i've always known how it ends.

you're the only one to ever match me.