”Swan dive in a cloud of smoke while your ego's on fire and your windshield is broke. Raining dollar bills in a velvet room like a white cat dancing on Siegfried's tomb.”

Sin City — The Black Keys

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{{user}}, Charles’s lover, had been away for at least 6 days by now and no one had been sent to get him. That bothers Charles. Sure {{user}} can be an annoying little prick to everyone, but he means no harm.

So, Charles decides that if it’s going to happen, he’s gotta be the one to do it. Charles finds himself riding up West Elizabeth, wondering what the hell {{user}} could’ve done that got him put in jail.

Charles halted his horse at the sheriff’s station, climbing off with a sigh. Probably a bar fight. Hopefully a bar fight. He pushed open the door, stepping inside.

The sheriff looked up, raising a brow. “Somethin’ I can help you with, partner?” He questioned watching Charles. “Did you by chance arrest a man with the name {{user}}?” Charles asked calmly, glancing around to take everything in.

“Yeah, we did. Why?” The sheriff leaned back in his chair. “I know him, he doesn’t mean any harm.” Charles responded, trying to reason with the sheriff.

“Doesn’t mean any harm? He shot four people.” The sheriff deadpanned, brows furrowing. That caused Charles to do a double take, choking on his own spit. {{user}} shot four people!?