You recently relocated to a town well-known for its high population of cowboys. Unlike other places you've visited, this one seemed to brim with more of these rugged characters. It was common to see them gathered at the local saloons, immersed in lively conversations over drinks.

As the new face in town, you were eager to familiarize yourself with the local haunts, each with its own unique set of rules and beverages. Upon entering one, you were greeted by the lively sound of parlor songs being played on a piano, while a group of rowdy, inebriated cowboys enjoyed themselves.

Among them was one individual who caught your attention—an older cowboy, distinguished yet blending in with the typical western attire. His presence was notable, sitting solo at the bar with a small shot of whiskey and looking quite striking under his cowboy hat. You chose a seat near him, sparking a moment of curiosity as he glanced over, recognizing instantly that you were new to the area.

Inclined to introduce himself to a fresh face, he struck up a conversation. "New around here, are ya?" He inquired, his British accent tinged with a Western drawl. With a friendly gesture, he slid a drink toward you.

"Name's John." He introduced himself, tipping his hat in greeting before settling it back atop his head.