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Danny has been a regular face at the saloon for basically his whole life.
Usually Twiliger wouldn't be too keen on having kids running around his saloon, but his mother works in one of the rooms upstairs and his father is their most honoured regular (not that the boy knows this), so it's only natural that Danny spent a lot of time hanging around as a kid. He's basically a staple of the saloon himself, having grown up chatting to the patrons and joining their games when they let him.
Twiliger regards Danny like his son, or maybe his nephew given he's pretty close to the boy's parents. However you want to spin it, there's a soft spot there. At the age of ten, Danny was sitting at the bar (easiest place to keep an eye on him) and complaining of boredom, and just one look into those sad blue eyes had Twiliger setting down a glass and a rag and spending ten minutes explaining how to dry the glasses efficiently. Danny spent the rest of the afternoon happily drying each glass he was handed, and kept asking to help every day he was present and had nothing else to do. It didn't feel the best making a child do labour, but Danny was literally asking for it and the kid has a face you just can't say no to.
(At least Twiliger isn't alone in thinking this. Tony gets caught in the kid's trap a lot too, and has spent the past several years making a steady attempt at teaching Danny music using a piano that only has three keys. Bill watches all of this with an amused glimmer in his eyes whenever he's around, and it all feels worth it to entertain the town hero and his unknowing son.)
When he turned fifteen and started fretting about finding a job, Twiliger offered to teach him how to bartend. Danny leapt at the chance ("I don't got nothin' else I feel like I wanna do, really!") and has taken to it with enthusiasm ever since, even if he's still got quite a bit to learn. He can tell the boy is happy—his mother is nearby at all times (even if she's often…preoccupied) and he gets to work around the people and environment he grew up with. And since Twiliger is quite invested in seeing this boy succeed, he takes it upon himself to guide him and offer all the tips and tricks he knows to make Danny the best bartender he can be.
"You gotta be polite and friendly," he explains one day, after Danny freezes when a tougher-looking customer comes up to the bar. "Especially if you don't know 'em, and even if they don't give you that attitude back. Nine times outta ten you'll get a happier customer and bigger tips because of it. And that other time? Being polite and disarming is more likely to keep you out of a fight."
"Okay," Danny replies, a little furrow in his brow like he's thinking hard about how to be polite, and Twiliger sighs and claps him on the shoulder.
"Just be yourself, kid," he says. "You've been talking to some of these guys for years, now you're serving 'em. Not as big of a difference as you're making it out to be. You'll get better the longer you do it, but you're a charming enough kid as is, so don't fret, alright?"
"Okay!" Danny says again, except this time there's a determined light in his eyes that says everything Twiliger needs to know. The kid has a habit of taking every bit of advice he's given and internalising it like he's writing a mental rulebook for himself. It's a little sweet, but sometimes he has a habit of reciting these 'rules' word-for-word to check if he's doing things right and it always catches Twiliger off-guard.
He doesn't think about that particular bit of advice until he notices a certain new pattern of behaviour start to emerge. He's not sure where Danny got the idea—perhaps his mother's love for her job and shamelessness in talking about it might have played a part—but several times Twiliger walks out to see the boy essentially flirting with whoever's at the bar. A wink here, a few well-placed words there; it's as if he took the 'charming' comment and ran with it. It's quite odd to watch, in all honesty.
For a while, Twiliger isn't sure if Danny is actually flirting on purpose or has just taken flattery and friendliness a step too far without realising. He gets his answer when the boy comes up to him with a significant amount of extra cash in his hands and stars in his eyes.
"Mr Twiliger!" he exclaims. "Did y'know that flirtin' with people will get you bigger tips?!"
"Will it now?" Twiliger asks, forcing his expression to stay neutral. He does know that, but it's not a tactic he uses himself and he hadn't planned on sharing it with the kid (he's seventeen, for fuck's sake, he shouldn't be flirting with the adults). He goes to keep talking, maybe question Danny a little, but a voice from the balcony interrupts him.
"That's my boy!" Maria crows, pointing proudly down at her son. "You make that money using everything you got! Bat those eyes and wring 'em dry, Danny."
Danny giggles. "Love you, mom!"
"Love you too, sweetheart!"
Twiliger blinks, then sighs quietly. At least the boy's mother approves of his new tactic. And at least—thank the lucky stars—Bill Hannigan isn't here to see this, because god knows what he'd think of it all.
So Danny continues to flirt. Not with the old regulars—he's got no need to impress the people who taught him blackjack when he was little, after all—but any unfamiliar faces that are willing to chat to Danny tend to bring out that side of him. He leans into it more too, blatantly laying on the charm and growing more confident in reaching out and brushing against his customers. Part of Twiliger knows he should discourage this behaviour, or at least tell him to hold back for just another year—but the little twinkle in Danny's eye as he pockets the extra cash gets him to shut his mouth and direct his guidance towards the part of showmanship that actually involves the beverages.
Twiliger sorely regrets his every decision as he watches Danny walk his fingers up the arm of the man he doesn't know is his father in an attempt to pull his life story out of him. Luckily, and thank the bloody heavens for this, Bill brushes him off the second he realises what Danny's doing and the kid has enough sense not to push when he's rejected. Twiliger quietly sits in mortification as they listen to the tale he already knows most of the details of, because if that wasn't bad enough, this is also the first time Bill has been present to see Danny's new little habit. What a way to find out what his son's been getting up to.
Bill merely chuckles when Twiliger gets the guts to approach him about it and apologise. "I married Maria," he says, "So I get it, sorta. Of course he takes after his mother for things like this, too. He gettin' shameless about it?" Twiliger hums an affirmative, wincing as he pictures the little finger stunt again. Bill is not the only person Danny has tried that on. "Yeah, sounds about right. Although maybe I should come clean just to keep him from tryin' something like that on me again."
"That's up to you," Twiliger says, relaxing at the fact that Bill seems to be unbothered by everything. "But it'd save the kid some disgust and embarrassment further down the line for sure."
It's Tony that gets him to think a little harder about it, one quiet evening when Twiliger can afford to leave Danny alone at the bar for a second.
"You not afraid that's gonna get him in trouble some day?" he asks, nodding at the bar, and Twiliger looks up in time to see Danny throw a wink as he passes a glass to a customer.
"How so?"
"Well, look at it this way. He's still young, got a baby face and all. When he does his little flirtin' schtick, people either think it's cute and flatterin' or they laugh at him 'cause they think he's being weird. And he can get away with that, kids do weird shit all the time. But once he gets older, the people who laugh now might stop laughin' and start asking questions." Tony gives him a pointed look at that. "And not even that—we get a good crowd usually but you never know when the wrong guy might waltz on in."
"You're dancin' around the point," Twiliger accuses, although he has the slightest inkling of what Tony's trying to get at. "Say it."
Tony sighs, eyeing Danny for another second before he turns to Twiliger and lowers his voice. "You ever notice that Danny only ever seems to really flirt with the men?"
There it is. To be fair, Twiliger had cottoned onto that himself—they get a lot more men in the saloon than they do women, which could explain it, but even so there's still a difference. With women, like the one at the bar right now, Danny sticks to the winks and smiles and simple flattery, much like how he started out. But with men he gets bold: leaning on the bar, making it so he can bat his eyes up at them, letting his voice slip into something more coy and innocent. And when he's not brushed off right out of the gate he makes use of his hands, twirling a finger over the rim of a glass or poking and prodding if he feels particularly brave. It's definitely starting to tip into seducing rather than just flirting at this point. He'd chalked it off initially as the boy just copying his mother (which is definitely somewhat part of it) but now that Tony's brought it into question he has to concede it does look rather suspicious.
"You saying you got a problem with that?" he challenges. Tony may be a dear friend of both the saloon and him personally, but Twiliger is fully prepared to throw him to the streets if this is an issue.
"I'm saying," Tony says with a roll of his eyes, "That I don't wanna see that boy hurt. You know what people are like with this sorta thing."
Twiliger scoffs. "He ain't gonna get hurt. We ain't gonna let that happen."
"And how are you so sure?"
"His father has the fastest hands in the west and his mother has never been scared to fight a man in her life. Every damn regular in this saloon would throw hands for this kid and I keep a loaded gun behind the bar for a fuckin' reason. When I say nobody'll touch a hair on Danny's head, even over somethin' like this, I fuckin' mean it."
Tony leans back on his stool, a distinctly impressed look on his face. "Well then. Good to know he's got people on his side."
"I'm fuckin' serious, Tony," Twiliger says, fire in his veins that he can't get to settle just yet. "If that fight ever happens you better be on his side too."
"Of course I'll be on Danny's side," Tony snaps. "Just wanted to be sure there's even a side to be on."
"Good."
They leave it at that, but Twiliger finds himself continuing to think about it as the days pass. Questions keep running through his head. Has anyone else made this connection yet? Have his parents noticed, would they fight for him? Has Danny even noticed what he's doing?
Will they really be able to protect the boy like he said when the time comes? (And unfortunately it is a when, not an if, because Twiliger knows what people can be like. Tony was right—they are lucky enough to get a good crowd in the saloon. But they can't be lucky forever.)
He gathers a couple answers just from observation. If any of the other regulars have noticed Danny's inclinations, they haven't said anything. His mother seems entirely on board with what he's doing, yelling encouragement from the balcony every time she spots him making extra cash or teasing him for trying to encroach on her job (God forbid that idea—again, he's still only seventeen). She doesn't seem to have anything to say about who he's flirting with, so Twiliger can only assume she's fine with it, since she's definitely a smart enough woman to have noticed by now. Maria seems the type to be fine with this sort of thing, anyway.
Strangely enough, he gets the rest of his answers one random evening when Bill's in. The town hero is sitting by Tony and singing his song when his eyes drift to Danny, leaning over the bar and going through his usual schtick. When the customer walks away and Danny pockets his tips with a grin, Bill pushes himself to his feet and ambles over. His expression is curious, no traces of anything negative; Twiliger finds himself tensing anyway. He has no idea what's about to happen.
"Hey kid!" Bill calls out, slipping onto one of the barstools. "Got a question for ya."
"'Course, Mr Hannigan," Danny says, stepping closer. He doesn't try anything—never does with the people who have pushed him away before. Kid's got a good head like that. "Want another drink on the house?"
"Nah, I just wanna chat." Bill leans forward, peering at Danny through tipsy eyes. "That whole flirting thing you do. You tryin' to get a boyfriend like that or is it just for the money?"
Danny blinks in surprise. Twiliger does too. He's got the guts to just ask outright? "Flirtin' gets me better tips, Mr Hannigan," Danny explains easily. "And it's kinda fun, but like, that's all there is to it. Not many people my age come through here, anyway."
Bill hums, drumming his fingers on the countertop. "But say a boy your age did come through here," he proposes, "And he was real handsome or pretty or whatever you like. Would it be for more than just money then?"
"You're askin' if I'd ever actually flirt for real?" Danny asks, then pauses, taking in the rest of what Bill said. "…With a boy? I'm not sure I'm meant to do that."
"Well why not?" Bill challenges, and Twiliger releases a breath he didn't know he was holding, because that means Bill isn't fishing for answers because he's got a problem with it. He just wants to know the truth about his son.
Danny hesitates, glancing over to Twiliger unsurely. In return, Twiliger tries to look relaxed and not as deeply invested in this conversation as he really is. "Am I…allowed? To do something like that?"
"Sure you are," Twiliger tries to placate him.
"It's your life to live, boy," Bill shrugs.
"I…" Danny trails off, his mind clearly racing. "I dunno, sir. Never thought about it, really. I mean, you said you and Maria hit it off from the beginnin' and I ain't never had anythin' like that."
Kid has the guts to mention Maria even when for all he knows, she's dead. He really is Hannigan's son.
"Well, lemme put it this way," Bill says. "You ever looked at a girl and thought to yourself, 'I wanna kiss her'?"
"No," comes Danny's answer immediately. Twiliger's stunned at the quickness, although given everything maybe he shouldn't be. In contrast, Bill doesn't seem phased at all.
"What about a boy?"
Danny hesitates again, and that's almost an answer in and of itself. They both wait, though, letting Danny get his thoughts in order and come to his own conclusion.
"I think…maybe I did. Once or twice," he finally admits. "But I thought…well, I didn't think I could. 'Cause I'm a boy myself, y'know? And all the couples you see every day are made up of a boy and a girl." Nervously, he glances between Bill and Twiliger. "But you're sayin'…"
"Just because you don't see it often, doesn't mean it's not an option, kid," Twiliger says.
"Ain't nothin' wrong with findin' another man pretty," Bill drawls. "Don't listen to anyone who says otherwise."
"So there are people who say otherwise…"
"Hey," Bill cuts in, suddenly uncharacteristically serious. "If anyone ever tries to give you trouble for likin' a boy, you fight back, y'hear? You still got my guns?"
"'Course I do, Mr Hannigan," Danny replies, patting the holsters on his hip that have sat there since he got them.
"Good. And if you're in over your head, you come find me. I'll show 'em what for."
"Come find me," Twiliger cuts in. "If you're in the saloon I'll already know what's going on but if you're not, I'd rather you get back somewhere safe instead of running off looking for the town hero who'll probably be here anyway. This place is my jurisdiction, I've got the power to not let anyone get away with shit."
"And I'll give 'em hell if they do," Bill adds, looking particularly vicious. Danny giggles, a little nervously.
"Well, um, thanks sir, but I really don't know why you'd go that far when I'm just a boy who serves you drinks—"
"What are you boys yammering about down there?" a voice calls out, and the three of them look up to see Maria leaning over the balcony railing.
"Mom…" Danny gasps, fear in his eyes, and Twiliger lands a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, your mother's a good woman," Bill says lowly. "You don't gotta, but if you wanna tell her, I doubt she'll judge."
"How can you be so sure?" Danny whispers, and Bill simply chuckles.
"I know her well."
"Go on, kid," Twiliger encourages him, giving him a little nudge away from the bar. "Like I said, any trouble, we'll be right here."
There's a final moment of hesitation before Danny nods, running off towards the stairs with a call of, "Mom, can we talk?"
"He's a good kid," Bill sighs, watching his wife and son disappear into one of the upper rooms.
"You realise," Twiliger says, "We'll be protecting him over this for the rest of his life?"
"I'll be protectin' him for the rest of his life anyway," Bill brushes him off. "What's one more reason?"
And, well. If Bill Hannigan thinks there's nothing to worry about, then that's that. Maybe things will turn out fine for Danny after all. That's all Twiliger—and most of the people at the saloon—could ever ask for.
(That, and for Danny to get the hang of sliding drinks so he stops smashing glasses. But hey, you can't get everything you want in life, can you?)