the man rode up with his equally intimidating, striking mustang, the ruckus of the hooves on the ground making the gunslingers presence known. Their town was lucky enough to not be raided by the confederacy yet, the little town still thriving. The man pushed through the doors of the inn, his hand rested unwittingly on his holster and the other smoking a cigar, puffing through his mouth. He gestured to her, making it known he was looking for a room to stay in with a flick of a finger.