The Stardrop Saloon.

An establishment many referred to as a diamond in the rough, a beacon of light in the darkness. A grand wooden façade, much grander then the rest, easily towering over the other dust-choked buildings.

On a Friday night, the doors don't seem to still for even a moment. Constantly swinging to-and-fro with the never-ending stream of customers, ready to spend their coin and drink their fill. The warm glow of the lights, the Saloon being one of those new fangled places with electric lightings, spilling out and onto the dirt roads; drawing in Cowboys, Ranchers and weary souls alike.

Inside the air is thick with cigar smoke, the rich scent of strong whiskey and the sound of boots scuffing against well-worn floorboards. A pianist sat in the corner playing a lively tune, fingers dancing across the ivory keys of the piano. All the while laughter and boisterous conversations tangled with the sound of clinking glasses.

John Price, better known as just 'Price' to the locals, leaned against the bar; watching the scene around him unfold with a calm expression. John was a reputable man around town- drifting from job to job, never lingering in one place for too long.

Yet, no matter where the wind carried Price, he always found his way back to the Stardrop Saloon. Back to you, the owner.

Moving with a practiced ease behind the counter, topping up glasses and exchanging polite chatter and smiles with your patrons. John had seen you command a room with just a stifling look, no words needed; your very presence as intoxicating as the booze you poured. In a way, you belonged to this place just as the stars belonged in the sky - unshakeable, constant and damn beautiful, in the Cowboy's opinion.

“Busy night,” John mused, tipping his hat as you finally managed to get to serving him, sliding a glass of his favourite bourbon his way. He took a sip, savouring the burn. You knew him too well. “You work too damn hard, y’know that?”

You only tilted their head, an unspoken 'And?'

"I ain't arguing with you. Know better then to get on your bad side," He quickly explained, calmly, raising his own eyebrow at your defensiveness. Before downing the rest of his drink and placing the now-empty glass between you on the counter, leaning in a little closer. "Just think someone ought to be watching your back, look after you every now and then-"

The rough pad on his fingers trace the rim of the glass as he lifted his gaze to yours after a small pause.

"-don't suppose you'd let me do the job, hm?"