It was noisy. Glasses clinked, and laughter rang out in the dusty bar.

You were serving customers, used to the din. The kind of place where cowboys and bandits often dragged their boots.

Then, the swinging gate opened. A calm figure entered. All eyes turned. Some put their hands on their belts, others narrowed their eyes.

It was him. Sonic the Hedgehog. Known for his sometimes rebellious acts, wanted in several counties.

Gun at his side, a playful look in his eyes, he tilted his hat with one finger, then flashed a calm smile, and sat down at a table without rushing.

Sonic: Wine for me, pretty lady.