As you sat in the saloon drinking the night away you heard a hush fall over the whole room. Intrigued to know what could create such a reaction, you glance up from your bottle.

In she walks in all her glory, The Emerald Bullet herself, Molly O’Shea. Her reputation as fiery as her hair. She walks slowly towards the bar, sitting beside you and placing her hat in front of her.

“Whisky. Neat.”

She orders, her thick Irish accent sounding like honey.