Welcome to fuckin' Deadwood

You have been tested, Al Swearengen. And your deepest purposes proved. There’s gold on the woman’s claim. You might as well have shouted it from the rooftops. “That’s why I’m jumping through hoops to get it back. Thorough as I fleeced the fool she married, I will fleece his widow, too, using loyal associates like Eustace Bailey Farnum as my go-betweens and dupes. To explain why I want her bought out I will make a pretext of my fear of the Pinkertons. I will throw Farnum a token thief. Why should I reward E.B. with some small fractional participation in the claim? Or let him even lay by a little security and source of continuing income for his declining years? What’s he ever done for me except let me terrify him every goddamned day of his life till the idea of bowel regularity is a forlorn fucking hope. Not to mention ordering a man killed in one of E.B.’s rooms. So every fucking free moment of his life E.B. has to spend scrubbing the bloodstains off the goddamned floor to keep from … having to lower his rates.” God damn that motherfucker!

“Whatever lurks ahead of grievous abominations and disorder, you and me walk into it together, like always.”