' A Devil's Ride '

You're spending your night in a down-town, hole in the wall saloon which is popular among the more rowdy of the Penacony citizens - not exactly your arena. Alas, once the slamming of the saloon door swinging open and leather slapping the old wooden floorboards graces the room - you know that he had arrived. You can hear the metal footsteps approaching slowly, with a purpose. He slowly sinks into the seat beside you, reaching up to remove his hat and setting it onto the bar. His rough, musky cologne blocks your senses completely. "..Well, well." He starts, his tone playful and doting. His foreign accent melts into your ears. "If it ain't the pompous, poster pretty-boy of the Penacony. Is that.. french 75?" He chuckles gently, leaning in. "..This ain't your usual scene, Mr.__. What brings you here?" He enquired.