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Percival King only turns on the television if she wants to relax.
She primarily watches police procedurals, historical documentaries, and, on occasion, reality TV. She’s never considered herself a picky consumer of cinema, it’s just background noise. Sometimes she’ll turn it on while microwaving frozen dinners cooking, or while doing her morning stretches, but it’s rarely something she focuses on.
This changes when she starts dating a guy with an art degree.
After a long day of defeating criminals and enacting justice, they decide to crash at her place. Things are still strange and new between them. Sometimes she feels like their relationship is a budding tree, freshly sprouted from the ground, bark still soft before it hardens. She wants to water it but wonders how much she should. Some days, however, their relationship feels a bit more like they’ve chucked a bucket of kerosene on a forest to keep warm for the night.
“What do you MEAN you’ve never seen The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly!?” Ramsey practically yells. They’re finishing off their Korean takeout on the couch and the topic had floated to Zora, as it sometimes does when Ramsey is anxious. And from Zora it was easy enough to transition to cowboys.
“This film is about the old west? I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of it,” Percy says, dabbing her lips with a napkin. She’s watched a few documentaries but never done any in-depth research on cowboys.
Ramsey just stares at her. “Only one of the greatest films ever made. Saw it back when I was a kid and I swear, I thought it was the coolest thing ever. Wrote a paper on it in a History of Film class. Actually the third part in a trilogy, but you don’t hafta watch the other ones,” he glances over his shoulder at her, “unless you’re up for a marathon?”
Percy sighs. “Perhaps another night. I have a patrol tomorrow.”
Ramsey rolls his eyes, or, well, his real eye. His prosthetic just kind of wobbles. “Fine, yeah, I get it. I already know you won’t play hooky, no matter how much I beg.”
“You know that’s not an option,” she states.
“Yeah,” Ramsey leans over and kisses her on the cheek. He’s got a long day’s worth of scruff and it rasps against her skin. “Yeah, I know.”
Ramsey hooks her laptop up to the TV, which is something Percy’s never done before, and, after a short debate over the morals of pirating old films, decide to rent it from an online store.
“Your money, not mine.” He shrugs as he settles down into the couch. Percy just nods.
They watch in silence as a group of cowboys approach a ramshackle building. Percy bristles at its lack of stability. Is this what they call a horror film?
The building doesn’t fall, and is, in fact, irrelevant.
Ramsey stretches and yawns, arm coming back down to rest on the couch behind her. “Thoughts so far?”
It’s very slow. Percy’s not entirely certain what the plot is. “I like Tuco,” she says.
Ramsey’s eye is still fixed on the TV, where Angel Eyes is violently interrogating someone. Percy doesn’t like Angel Eyes. “Really? Thought you’d be more of an Eastwood fan.”
“Which one is he?”
“Poncho.”
“Ah,” she says. “And his name is?”
“Doesn’t have one. ‘The Man with No Name’ is what they call him in the other films. But he’s Blondie in this one.”
“And he’s the bad one?” she asks, remembering the film’s title.
Ramsey looks at her, confused. “What? Nah, he’s the good guy!”
“Really? Despite the fact that he left Tuco to die in the desert?”
“Well,” Ramsey says, then considers for a moment. “I mean, that wasn’t exactly nice. But Tuco’s a bad guy too.”
“So Tuco is the bad one,” Percy murmurs.
“No, Angel Eyes is.”
“Oh,” Percy considers for a moment, just as Ramsey’s hand lands on her shoulder. “So Tuco is the good?”
He’s still staring straight ahead. “No, Tuco’s the ugly.”
“Oh.” Percy leans into him, scootches closer on the couch. The arm across her shoulders goes a bit rigid. “Does that mean Blondie is supposed to be good?”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t say I agree with that sentiment.”
There’s a shot of gunfire and Percy is brought back to the movie. Tuco is drunkenly robbing a gun store by simply walking in, loading a gun, and pointing it at the salesman.
“Not ‘the good’,” Percy observes. “It seems that no one in this film is good.”
“Nah. Everyone’s an asshole to everyone and all anyone wants is money.”
“Unfortunate. Even the so-called ‘good guy’ is a rapscallion and a crook. Why even include the ‘good’ part of the title?”
“Eh, It’s got a nice ring to it. Plus he’s gotta be the protagonist; high-billed actor, real famous at the time. Not a great person, but good lookin’.”
Percy considers the man on screen. He has a very squinty expression as he shoots a man in the leg. He spins his gun around as he holsters it.
“Hm,” she murmurs. “I don’t agree.”
Ramsey huffs a laugh and she can feel his chest vibrate with it. “Why even think about it if you know the answer’s a no?”
“Force of habit,” she admits. “When you spend a long time looking for something other people can see, it just becomes part of life.”
Ramsey squeezes her shoulder. “Well, you don’t have to.”
“I know. Like I said, just a habit.”
Percy is roused by the music swelling, a crescendo of “aaah-ah-ah”s and “bwah bwah bwah”s.
She blinks her eyes open. The last thing she remembers is something about a carriage, but now they’re…in war camp? There are plenty of soldiers, that’s for sure.
She sits up slightly, finding that Ramsey’s arm has slid down behind her. They’ve slumped down on the couch and she realizes that Ramsey has fallen asleep as well. His head has rolled to the side, mouth hanging open.
She smiles softly and pulls the blanket from the back of the couch over them. She curls into Ramsey’s side and drifts off again.
“Hey. Perce.”
Percy blinks and sits straight up. The movie is still going.
Ramsey pulls his arm out from behind her. “Sorry. Fell asleep.”
“As did I,” Percy stretches her neck to the side. “Would you rather turn in for the night?”
“Nah.” Ramsey yawns. “Movie’s probably over soon, might as well finish it.”
Percy nods, settling back against him, eyes sliding shut. “I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting this to be so much about war.”
“Yeah,” Ramsey admits. “I think I forgot half of this movie. My brain just decided that the boring parts sucked and I should forget them.”
“The music is good.”
“Mhmm.”
“How much is left?
“Lemme check,” Ramsey says, leaning forward to look at the timestamp. “Well, the full film’s a hundred and eighty somethin’ minutes.”
Percy opens her eyes. “Ramsey, that’s three hours.”
Ramsey blanches. “And there’s fifty two left.”
“I’m going to bed,” she declares.
“Yeah,” Ramsey sighs, settling back into the cushions. “I’ll turn in too. You got some extra blankets for the couch?”
Percy frowns. “You don’t have to sleep out here.”
“Oh, you got like an air mattress or something? Or, uh,” he scratches his neck, “I could leave. You’d have to drive, though.”
She raises a bushy eyebrow at him. “I do have a bed.”
“Oh! Uh, I mean, you don’t have to, uh…” he trails off, glancing at the floor. His hands are busy fiddling with the seam of the blanket.
“Ramsey, we’ve slept in the same bed before.”
“Yeah but that was,” he sighs, and looks up at her. “Before all this. So it’s different.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“You sure?” His hands stop moving.
“Of course,” she says, kissing him on the cheek. She grasps his hand, pulling him with her as she stands up. “Let’s get some rest.”
Ramsey collapses against her, in a way that she recognizes as not entirely genuine. “Mmm. Carry me?”
Percy chuckles, giving him a tight hug before easing up. “Absolutely not.”