Another Continuity

It is perhaps a cautionary tale, of sorts. One can never be too careful in a world that is steadily shrinking, and its people more and more distrusting of those who were different in their midst. Either of them traveling alone might not draw notice. There were plenty of displaced Indians or freed men moving about the country just now, and even the odd visitor or two from abroad would be considered curious, but little more than that.

Together, as they had been traveling for months now, they made a far more distinctive pair. More memorable. Neither of them had wanted posters as such, but it meant that any toe out of line would be viewed with much more scrutiny. Sometimes it was amusement, or confusion.

Sometimes, different meant dangerous.

Charles had never really been one to enjoy the solaces of civilization, but small towns like this made him equally as on edge, for other reasons entirely. Too many people was bad. Too few, too curious and tightly-knit and opposed to strange men near their property, could be just as bad. Perhaps more so. Here civility was a gossamer-thin veneer too easily stripped away without other men present to judge.

It's little wonder he spends almost no time downstairs at the tavern proper, preferring their rented room for the evening. It's less nervousness than it is a steady tension maintained throughout the evening, including when he steps out onto the balcony for a smoke and a discreet look at the number of men piling into the tavern below.