They absolutely watched a movie that Roland's 'people' put to the silver screen, but with the existence of parallel worlds, who even knows if he's thinking of the right movie genre? No, they were playing along with a bit, here! The important thing is they keep in character, and that Roland recognizes that this is something leading up to another one of the Twin Teens' antics.
Besides, he hasn't pretended to be a cowboy in a loooooooong time. What age was he when he decided he'd rather not pretend this hard, anymore? Yet here they come, bringing a fantasy he falls into as naturally as it was to breathe. Roland's aware how silly it sounds but it's fun and it reminds him of those times, so he'd rather not think about it as hard as he would everything else. The accent that grows thicker from all sides - starting with Tidus then Inigo eventually attempts it too - is met with Roland's own Aremican Southern drawl, warming up some.
"I knew there was more to you two cahootin' tenderfooter's walkin' in my saloon, lookin' for somethin' to wet your whistles. But I'll serve ya'll anyhow, on the house. I got a good feelin' bout you's." Did you guys get that? Look at the widening grin on Roland's face though, as he takes out two mugs for them both, more ready than ever to actually brew them palatable coffee that's more milk and honey than actual espresso. He's learned his lesson.
But that's where his complacency about this whole thing gets him, and it gets him good. When the paper is presented to him, reaching a hand out to take it from Inigo, his smile falters inch by inch. The character he's put up, a failed persona, melting away, revealing a much more vulnerable man. Innocent eyes sparkling in instant recognition of what the paper is showing him, describing to him. In perfect, numerical detail, sequenced and meticulous.
"..."
The southern accent fades and he is stunned into silence. He covers his mouth, rubs at his chin while he reads it over and over again. Roland might even try to look away, not out of embarrassment, but shock. This could be no other but...
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Besides, he hasn't pretended to be a cowboy in a loooooooong time. What age was he when he decided he'd rather not pretend this hard, anymore? Yet here they come, bringing a fantasy he falls into as naturally as it was to breathe. Roland's aware how silly it sounds but it's fun and it reminds him of those times, so he'd rather not think about it as hard as he would everything else. The accent that grows thicker from all sides - starting with Tidus then Inigo eventually attempts it too - is met with Roland's own Aremican Southern drawl, warming up some.
"I knew there was more to you two cahootin' tenderfooter's walkin' in my saloon, lookin' for somethin' to wet your whistles. But I'll serve ya'll anyhow, on the house. I got a good feelin' bout you's." Did you guys get that? Look at the widening grin on Roland's face though, as he takes out two mugs for them both, more ready than ever to actually brew them palatable coffee that's more milk and honey than actual espresso. He's learned his lesson.
But that's where his complacency about this whole thing gets him, and it gets him good. When the paper is presented to him, reaching a hand out to take it from Inigo, his smile falters inch by inch. The character he's put up, a failed persona, melting away, revealing a much more vulnerable man. Innocent eyes sparkling in instant recognition of what the paper is showing him, describing to him. In perfect, numerical detail, sequenced and meticulous.
"..."
The southern accent fades and he is stunned into silence. He covers his mouth, rubs at his chin while he reads it over and over again. Roland might even try to look away, not out of embarrassment, but shock. This could be no other but...