Like a bored party host, Cy responds that Custer "did a job for our side, didn't he, Al?" And, like the guest that showed up uninvited, Al prattles on. "How 'bout that long-haired fucking blowhard, huh?" he says, continuing on about Custer and his routing of the Sioux. "I'll tell you this, Cy, and you can mark my words, Crazy Horse winning at Little Big Horn bought his people one good long-term ass-fucking."
"You do not want to be a dirt-worshiping heathen from this fucking point forward," Al continues, and turns suddenly as if he'd forgotten his manners to excuse himself to Joanie Stubbs with a smooth "pardon my French." She hands it right back to him, stone cold: "Oh," she says, unblinking, "I speak French." And by God if Al isn't momentarily unsettled by her response. Ian McShane plays this scene like a violin. "Well," he recovers, "here we are settlin' the world's problems," and laughs, actually showing his teeth, in a nearly unprecedented moment. "And I've been wonderin', Cy, if perhaps we should talk about our areas of overlap so's we're not at each other's throats." Cy asks Al to give him a for instance. "Uh, women," Al responds. "Would we want to agree on rates?" Joanie steps in to say that "as far as pussy, Al, we'll want to let the market sort itself out." Al does his little laugh again and says it sounds like he's up against specialty acts. He's getting only a tad flustered.
He moves on, asking about table games, and whether there's any overlap there. Eddie, the games manager, tells him the Bella Union will be offering craps. "I played that in Chicago," Al says, "I don't offer it, myself. Gets these hoopleheads confused, hmm?" Al's pleased to hear that craps is one area of overlap avoided. He asks now about faro. Eddie says they will be offering that, as Al does. Al gets his worried look again. Cy sighs (ha) and says that he just isn't worried about the overlap, that the saloons are offering different atmospheres. He says Al's a pioneering, trailblazing type, and he's going to draw a "trailblazin' element." Al gets it. "Meaning," he says, "I get the ones that don't wash."
Good try, Al, but nobody feels sorry for you. "Must cut through the stink, though," Eddie jibes, "when they walk in with those sacks full of gold." Al shoots him a look like he'll be sure to get back and stab him later. "Oh, the money spends, definitely," he says. Cy's through with him. "Anyways," he tells Al, in kind of a patronizing tone, "thanks for the neighborly visit." Al lowers his head, and wishes Cy good luck. As he walks out, the three line up to watch him go. "Wouldn't set a fire right away," Eddie says. "Come to cases, though," Cy intones, ominously, "he would set a fire." That's what he just said, Cy, you damn LastWordy McGee.