#chapter i.

He’s asked her to meet him here because there’s really no putting it off. Better that someone knows than doesn’t, that he was honest in the face of things, and at this point, the only person he thinks he can trust wholeheartedly is Halo. 

Is it a little funny to think about that now, considering where they started off? Maybe. But she’s proven herself time and time again that she’s someone he can rely on. Farrier stares up at the Wheel. It towers over every other building in this fucking town, and it’s an eyesore.

If this were a normal, shared conversation, he’d start off with that. Isn’t that awful to look at, Halo?

This is not a normal conversation. “I fucked up, and you’re going to be mad at me, and I deserve it,” which is no nice way to start off, but Farrier’s got no clue on how to kick it off otherwise. He draws a circle in the dirt with the toe of his boot, almost sheepish. “I almost killed Twelfth on the train. Almost. I didn’t, but...”

There are no hills here. It’s all one flat expanse of nothing. Sand, sand, and more sand, with the occasional tree for some color. When the sun starts to make its ascent it comes right on up with no bluster. It’s all dark, and then suddenly you’re squinting under the brim of your hat for the rest of the day. Paragon’s lucky, Farrier thinks, that he hasn’t had to rise as early as the rest of them... well, maybe lucky is the wrong word. It’s more silver lining than luck.

Jack’s gathered up half the bunch and taken them back to the refinery to see what they could scavenge. Everyone else is stuck here, watching and waiting the skyline to see if they actually get to come back. It is the height of misery, and it’s in this misery that Farrier scrapes together two measly plates (he always feeds himself first before anyone else, can’t begrudge a man a meal) consisting of some miserable tomatoes, two hunks of stale bread, and some sad-sack looking eggs that had somehow looked worse out of the shell than in.

It’s been a few days now, since, well — since things went very badly for Paragon. Something hot to eat isn’t the worst thing in the world, is it? He barges into Paragon’s tent unannounced with the platters and some forks and kicks Paragon’s cot on the way to the chair that Gull’s been sitting in to keep him company.

It’s only the day after he and Gull visit the general store that Farrier realizes they don’t have nearly enough gunpowder. He’d thought he’d had a better handle on the numbers before, but the robbery must’ve knocked half the sense out of him, because they’re low on just about everything. He’d seen the prices, too. Too expensive to buy... which meant more traditional means of acquiring something. Farrier knocks on the door to Witness’ room in the inn early in the morning... Only after having tossed and turned about it all damned night. He’s really starting to believe that he’ll never get another decent few hours of sleep ever again.

He’s just beginning to stack crates and reorganize the wagon when he realizes that in spite of Jack’s command to start getting things ready for departure, Farrier just does not want to do it. At least, not alone. This is what starts him on his journey to enlist Cain in helping him... with a five div’ in his pocket to help ease things along.

The Wheel looms in the distance when he finally manages to track Cain down, and Farrier can’t help but look at it a few times. The conversation he’d had there with Old Halo had been bad enough; better, he thinks, to avoid it for now. He plucks the divinity out of his pocket and offers a coin to Cain. Just one, for now, to sweeten the deal — obviously. “I’ve got a favor to ask. Help me finish packing the supply wagon, and I’ll tell you about the time you and Shotgun and Raphael and I all decided we were going to rob a bank.”