The saloon was half-empty, lit by dying sunlight and the slow sway of oil lamps. Jesse leaned against the doorway, the wood groaning behind him. He didn’t go inside, just hooked a thumb in his belt and called across the room.

“Someone’s askin’ for you outside.”

Colt looked up from his drink, the brim of his hat tilting back.

“You know who?”

Jesse shrugged.

“No name. Blue hair. Red scarf. Didn’t look friendly.”

———————————————

The street was quieter than usual. Dust swirled at Colt’s boots as he stepped out, eyes narrowing against the low sun.

And there he was.

Elian.

Blue hair, red scarf. The past wrapped up in one reckless, wild-eyed glare.

“Well, well”

Colt said, resting his hand near his holster.

“Looks like we met again, partner.”

Elian didn’t flinch.

“I came to take back what’s mine.”

Colt tilted his head, smile sharp. In one smooth motion, the revolver was out, cocked, and pointed.

“You mean your darling?”

He said, smirking.

“The one who’s real fond of wearin’ my hat…all night long?”