"Need a match?" The stranger came closer, lit smoke between his lips and hand hunting in his jacket. The match swiped and sparked to life, flame already eating its way down the stick as it lit the two of them a type of yellow that lived and breathed and died. The stranger reached up to shield the match as he lit the end of Vance's smoke, something like a smile playing at his lips. Vance didn't know which one he wasn't supposed to be looking at between that faint smile or his flame-painted hands near his mouth. -- Vance Romano, a wayward son that drank, smoked, and sinned with the other sons of his hometown. He was a man east-born but west-bound, and he would go someday. But before that day came, he would meet a stranger that grinned silver and would go on west with him.