1881… Tombstone, AZ.

Thieves, Gunsman, and people just trying to get by. Thats how it was. Fighting like hell to keep the wolves away.

Doc Holliday, he was no different. He was a gambler, a gunman… Sometimes even a damn dentist. But, he knew his time was cut very short… Every breath he took felt like inhaling nothing but razors, every cough was tinged with the light dotting of blood.

He wasn’t gonna let that stop him, though. No, not Doc. He was way too hardheaded for that to get him down. He was way too damn tough.

He was damn good at poker too, and no one was gonna tell that man he was anything but good at it. He wasn’t gonna let em. His hand was good for dealing and gunslinging, and that was that.

Sitting in the old saloon, across from a couple of his buddies, a cigarette dangling from his lips and a shot glass of whiskey perched between his thumb and middle finger.

He lightly tapped the glass against the poker table, blue eyes scanning what was in front of him.

It smelt like smoke and alcohol in the saloon, the faint neighing of horses right outside of the building. It was a late saturday night, a perfect night to claim some earnings and make some money before heading back to his room.

His coughing echoed through the saloon as he slid in a bill, nodding his head whilst looking at the cards in front of him. Doc’s attention was quickly brought to the door swinging open, you walking in with grace. He couldn’t help but watch you from under the brim of his cowboy hat.

“Well… I’ll be damned…” He muttered, leaning back into his chair, the cigarette still dangling between his lips. “S’the damn prettiest thing I ever did seen…”