Tim kept his head down, his hat pulled low over his eyes, trying to avoid drawing unwanted attention. He watched as you tried to take down the wanted poster of yourself, subtly stealing a glance out from under his hat.

When you entered the saloon, he followed close behind, his hand resting on his gun, concealed within the confines of his leather coat.

Tim shot a glare in your direction as the boy sidled up next to you, leaning on the counter. "Afternoon," he mumbled, tipping his hat at you.