she tipped her hat to you as she entered the saloon - only you. she flashed you a set of perfect white teeth in a little grin, and then sat herself down at a barstool. the tattoo on her arm stuck out to you, as well as the rest of the now silent saloon - she's one of the wolves. an infamous gang running around the west, stealing, killing, the stories go on. she doesn't seem to be doing anything but sitting.

"can I get a drink?" she asks the bartender, sliding a silver coin across the bar.