You’re a bandit. You swindle the rich folk from town to town, bolting the second their cash is in your palms.

You sweep your eyes over the patrons, searching for your next victim.

The doors of the saloon open, and in walks a tall man in a black hat, his hands resting on his belt dangling with weapons.

He takes the seat next to yours at the bar, mumbling his order to the bartender. He slightly turns towards you, eyes sweeping over you.

“I ain’t see ‘round you before.” He notes gruffly.