The muscle ticked in his jaw, his mouth thinning, and his head tipped down, face hiding behind the wide, dark brim of his hat.
"It ain't good, son," he admitted after a moment. "But I truly don't think yer meant for that. They may not like what yer doin', but ya play the game. That's what matters to them."
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"It ain't good, son," he admitted after a moment. "But I truly don't think yer meant for that. They may not like what yer doin', but ya play the game. That's what matters to them."