It was in front of us - Micah Bell

Friendly Face

Hitching January outside the Saloon, you headed through the gate and up the steps with a spring in your step. The thick smell of cigar smoke and booze hit you suddenly as you swung open the saloon doors, instantly killing the peppy bounce in your movement. The smell was so intense, you felt with very breath you took, the odour pumped directly into your lungs. Sitting there like a hefty weight. You attempted to hide the disgust from your face, clearing your throat and coughing into your closed fist.
It was a fairly quiet afternoon in Rhodes anyway. Not too many folk about. The Saloon was near enough empty bar a few wanderers slumped over tables or leaning against walls draining their lives away with cigarettes and cigars.

You caught the eye of a wrinkled man standing across the room. His expression along with the smoke from the cigar dancing around his expressionless face made him all the more intimidating. Trying not to stare, you swiftly, made your way to the bar. You didn't want no trouble today.
Leaning on the bar with a heavy sigh, you quickly looked down in horror as you felt your arm go cold and soggy. Lifting it, you saw your sleeve damp from a puddle of whisky or something on the bar.
Nice

You grimaced as you shook your sleeve and shifted up the bar, bumping into someone as you did.

"Ah! I-I'm sorry I-" you went to quickly apologise in fear you'd get smacked, but instead, you were met with a chipper tone and smile.

"Well, howdy you!" A feminine voice addressed you as you turned to face whomever you bumped into.
It was that girl you met in the gunsmiths some time ago now. You knew it was her by the distinct markings on her weapons. As well as her smoky eye makeup. Make up was never something you did yourself. You weren't very good at it, and it usually came off with sweat or blood depending on the day.

"Oh, it's you. Hello, again." You responded, sounding happier but still a bit awkward. You did have a soaking wet sleeve which you attempted to hide behind your back casually.

"I didn't  think I'd see you around here again missy. How ya been?" The girl asked, putting a hand on your shoulder as you both turned towards the bar. The girl signalled the bar tender for some bottles.

"I've been fine. Tryin' my hardest not to get shot." You replied in a slightly lower tone. Just incase there was anyone left alive from the shootout that might recognise your face.

"Ha! You're speakin' my language. Still though, been a while since I saw ya last. Thought you'd be long gone by now. It ain't often folk like us stay in one place too long." The girl continued as she threw an arm around you. Picking up on her use of 'us' you could only assume she was a gunslinger also. She was a mighty friendly lady, which was strange for someone who is a potential no good killer and or thief. Then again, you weren't much different.

"Trust me. I'm trying. But, turns out finding a quiet place for not one no good, but a whole gang of em, to lay low and shake the law, ain't no picnic." You briefly explained your situation. You didn't know why, but you chose to confide in this woman. Not only was she willing to listen but, she struck you that she'd been in your boots at some point in her time. It provided you a sort of comfort.

"Well..." the lady began as she looked over her shoulder briefly.
"I might be able to help. Follow me." She said as she swiftly headed past you towards the side door. You caught her scent as she drifted by. She smelt sweet, but as though the scent was wearing thin. Dying.

"Erm-" you went to say but she was already out of the door. You looked round to look at the bartender, tell him not to bother with the drinks, yet as you turned, you saw there was actually nobody working. You thought little of it and headed after the lady. You pushed through the door and saw her smoking whilst leaning up against a post.