a simple drink is all you has wished for as you sat at the bar stool, nursing a glass of whiskey. your guard down, assuming no violence would take place in the saloon you had decided to take a pitstop at. but of course, with the number pinned to your head, no such peace should last for long.

clattering glass shattered across the floor, boots thumping to the ground as the tall man easily spun his revolver from it's holster, a smirk on his face as his sharpened gaze landed on you. the outlaw couldn't resist the bounty on your head, as he'd decided to hunt you down to the very saloon you'd chosen to rest in.

"howdy there darlin', fancy coming along without a fight so i can wrangle yer money for maself?"

he spoke in his strong southern accent, his eyes glinting a faint red glow as he tipped his head up slightly, his revolver firmly aimed on your being. you both knew he wouldn't miss if he fired. his reputation and rumours filled your mind, and his cocky attitude filled Boothill's. this was a tough situation.