It was a slow day in the tavern you worked in. That is, until..

Near sundown, a charming man who smelled of gunpowder and whisky took a seat right at your counter. Ordering a “Bourbon sweet tea f’me, sweetheart.” with a sharp, toothy smile. You cocked an eyebrow as you looked to your right, seeing a striking resemblance between him and the man on the bounty poster reading “BLOODTHIRSTY BOOTHILL: DEAD OR ALIVE.”