#int. benjamin + silas

[lostmorals]

a trustworthy guy? absolutely not. no one with that much confidence can be considered honorable. in life, it's the bloodthirsty wily wolves who go around flashing their sharp canines while the sheep take shelter. it was blatantly obvious by this man's laxed disposition and devil-may-care attitude that he was a wolf. now, benjamin doesn't consider himself a kindred spirit. no, he's no wolf. he's no sheep. he's no animal at all. benjamin caruso is the hunter. the man who kills the wolf.

"i was taught not to trust cowboys. they present themselves as noble, hard-working all-american men, but their gun is always hot, their smirk is always deceitful, and their dick is always wet. they take what they want and treat the rest of us like cattle. so, no, pretty boy, i don't trust you." the idea of them sharing anything at all in common was far-fetched. the only thing remotely similar was their apparent taste in women and alcohol.

"—and what kind of job would that be?" benjamin reclines, hawkish eyes examining every gesture. he wonders if silas is thinking the same thing as him. if they really had anything at all in common they would both agree that the girl sitting with them punched her ticket. after tonight, she wouldn't be allowed to breathe. she knows too much. seen and heard too much.

well, the man certainly wasn’t backing down. silas could respect a man that didn’t cower—to a point. eventually, he would grow tired of someone not bending to his will, then he’d have to dispose of them in some way. until then, though, silas was willing to play as long as his opponent was. he smirked at the idea of watching him and their woman together, unrattled by the suggestion. “don’t propose somethin’ you don’t want to happen. i’m not shy.” his stolen date, for her part, seemed excited by the idea. he flashed her a wolfish grin before his attention returned to his new friend.

the man recognized the name, which silas expected. his family had a reputation as honorable ranchers to the general public, and ruthless businessmen to a certain crowd. to a select few, they were evil on earth. silas happened to be the worst of them all, by nature and by design. his father molded his oldest son to do the more nefarious tasks that came with owning a ranch; silas wasn’t sure if his father noticed a penchant for violence in him at a young age, or he was forced to develop one to help big don with the deeds the desjardins wanted to keep in the dark. he may have grown up a vaquero, but his father put silas’ talents to other uses and the ranching was left to his younger brothers, dally and hank.

“aw, why? i don’t seem like a trustworthy guy?” silas quipped, eyes following as his new friend reached over and took his glass off of the table. his head cocked, jaw jutting out slightly. so that’s how he wanted to play this. he supposed it was only fair as he had started the interaction by taking his date, so let him take his drink—let benjamin caruso take his drink. “i think you and i may have more in common than you think, caruso.” silas was sure it seemed like he had a charmed life due to his family name, but he had no real home. the ranch was always waiting for him, but he was only half-welcomed there; his father only wanted him back when he had a job for him, and his siblings either were cordial but wary, or had outright contempt for him. his mother johna was the only person in the world that had any sort of affection for him, but that mostly hinged on him being the firstborn and not a true fondness for him. silas’ gaze moved over benjamin, appraising him. “if you’re looking for work, i might have something for you.” 

[lostmorals]

he could tell this guy was used to getting his way with people. whether by force or that silver tongue of his. knowing when and how to play his cards probably makes him feel special. like he's above the herd. to bejamin he was just another sheep though. he could be the smartest, coolest sheep in the pen but he was still just a sheep and in the presence of a wolf. a wolf that doesn't mind having a little blood in its fur.

"i guess if you enjoy watching - you can watch us fuck." battling at the corners of his lips is a slight smirk. the woman doesn't seem to mind which way the night ends. she's leaning in, attentive, interested; her dark bedroom eyes and bountiful cleavage tells the patrons she's just here for a good time.

"desjardins." the name sits on his tongue, bathing in savory thought. he's heard it before. over the years it's made its way around similar company. "the farm - right. so now who's the vaquero?" his mischievous smirk never quite reaches his eyes - dark like black water, hiding secrets not even the gods are allowed to know. "if you were to tell me everything about yourself i wouldn't believe you anyway. would you believe me?" he leaned forward and steals the man's drink before bringing the half-finished glass to his lips, his eyes unwavering. "benjamin caruso. i'm nothing more than a gun. i was a soldier and now...and now i'm just scrolling...waiting to find the right channel. see, i don't got a ranch or nothin, but who needs horses - right? the more you have, the more you can lose."

it had never really been about the girl for silas. it rarely ever was. the girls, the bars, the towns; they were all interchangeable and barely ever differed from one another. the only thing that changed was the scenery, and occasionally, the men like the man in front of him. the ones that weren’t afraid to bite back. too many people were weak, too many of them backed down at the slight provocation, but every once in a while, he found someone willing to play. “ooooh. sleazy? i prefer reprobate.” though the word he really had an issue with was gentleman.

“i wouldn’t count out a threesome, vaquero, the night is still young.” he was only trying to provoke the other man, but he wasn’t strictly opposed to the idea—if he was honest, though, the woman next to him barely factored in his mind once the man decided to sit down. the question wasn’t unexpected; any time he came into a new town and asserted himself, who are you was the first thing people said. despite being the black sheep of the family, silas was quite proud of his last name, so he freely gave it instead of using an alias. “silas desjardins.” he answered, smug smirk in place. “you might’ve heard of us. got us a big ranch down in texas.” the name was synonymous with horses in certain parts of the world. “i do have some business here, actually, but you’ll forgive me if i don’t clue you in on what it is. i deserve some privacy, don’t i?” silas tilted his head back, looking down his nose at the man. “now, it’s your turn to return the favor. what’s your name?”

[lostmorals]

the man's tongue in cheek demeanor, and the way he comes across so entitled, only irks the hitman more. rather than show his anger, benjamin takes a minute to listen and observe the other's snide remarks. this man wasn't easily shaken by confrontation. not like others have been in the past. there's an air of serenity that engulfs him; which tells bejamin one of two things; he's either playing up a role, trying to impress the pretty girl, or he possesses enough skill to back his confidence up.

"well aren't you a sleazy gentleman..." despite giving the girl a say in the matter, benjamin was long past leaving with her. the altercation wasn't about her anymore. it was about respect, or rather the disrespect. "join you, huh? threesomes can be hot and all, but i'd prefer a different variety." yet, he still takes a seat across from the tyler durden wannabe. "i'm only sitting because i like this place. i don't want to draw any unwanted attention. but lets get somethin' straight, this isn't about the girl. it's about you pullin' your dick out and pissin' all over the place. who are you...hm? just another entitled philanderer or do you have some kind of business here?"

silas, above all things, enjoyed a challenge. when his father had a job for him, he often made things harder on himself instead of taking the easy way out. the only consequence was death; he had been to jail many times and it only took a call to his family to either be freed, the threat of a lengthy prison sentence rarely scared him. when it came to affairs of the heart—or body, rather—silas made everything into a challenge. he saw the man abandon his date, likely for the bathroom, and had little time to strike. luckily, the other man’s date was easily swayed by his roguish grin. he’d hate to sound conceited but silas didn’t have to work hard for some barfly to find him attractive. barely a moment and she was ready to leave her date for him, taking up in a booth in the back. it didn’t take long for her abandoned date to saunter up to the table. good, he was starting to get bored. the man certainly seemed entertaining. “no need to get salty, vaquero.” silas spread his arms out along the top of the booth, brows raising impishly. “now the lady is staying here unless she wants to leave with you, which i don’t think is likely. you, however, are welcome to join us.” he nodded towards the other side of the booth. “sit down.”