As Rose the bartender approached to pour Wu another round on the account of his request, he reached for his pockets. By the time he pulled out a couple of cents he noticed how sweating his hands were, he dropped the money on the counter and swalowed hard, Lord he needed that drink after that intense moment. Rose served him the drink, but she held on to it as she propped it in front of Wu, for a brief moment he was confused, shifting his attention to her, he tilted his head upward facing Rose. She gave out a warning vibe, yet there was a bit of fear and worry in the air about her, Wu could easily read it.

Wu nodded at rose, she took her hands off the glass. Wu certainly apprehended Rose's warning message. He took the drink and gulped It. Sore his throat became, but it was a feeling Wu craved for at the moment. Rumbling in his stomach he let out a slight sigh and shut his eyes, when his relieving, quaint moment was interrupted by a harsh muffled voice. Wu opened his eyes a bit, enough to know who's demanding the young bartender. "Enough drinking" Wu thought. He was a heavy drinker, but not with a highly wanted man in the same bar, sitting a stool away from him.

Rose smiled at the man in the bone mask, settling her elbows on the bartop and her chin on her hands. "Sure do, hon," she replied, raising her eyebrows and banishing her worry for the moment. "Depends on how much you're willin' to pay for it. I'll give you a little discount on account of Marjorie's...inattentiveness, but the bottle's still gonna run you a few bucks."

After fumbling with the key for a considerable amount of time, Archie got the door open and rushed into the workshop, running up a narrow fight of steps to an overhang that he called his room. Rummaging through his drawers he found the object of his desire, a revolver, gun metal grey with a redwood grip, he picked it up in his first week in sandy flats.

Archie stuffed it into his coat and deposited a fistful of loose rounds into his pocket, the panic and excitement was getting to him as he rushed down the stairs, slamming the door shut and neglecting to lock it. In the end it didn't matter, once he got that cash he could buy back what ever he might find stolen when he returned. Either way, he doubt anyone would steal from a man who makes their coffins, else he'll put a "curse" on them. Archie snickered at the thought.

He burst back into the saloon and went straight to Rose, leaning over the counter Archie brought his mouth to her ear and whispered, "Madam Rose, I need to talk to you outside."

"No no no no..." muttered Simion rapidly as Doctor Swartzlander slowly and meticulously measured out small quantities of a fine white powder into small vials. "I require each dose to be at least double the normal strength" he directed as he continued to browse through the latest shipment with great interest. The man was dressed in a somewhat fine getup, his clothes relatively new and of high quality.

Doctor Swartzlander looked up briefly as he often did, a momentary hesitant look displayed across his wrinkled features before he followed the instructions of his employer without a word, measuring out more of the mixture with a practised precision. Simion picked up a small metal tin and examined its label, smirking as he saw that it was honey flavoured gum which contained cocaine before he slipped it into his pocket with a contented sigh seeing that an entire crate of the stuff had been delivered.

He'd never had such access to so many different types of medications, elixirs and general breakthroughs in science - let alone being the owner of an entire store full of them. He continued to search through and pocket the occasional item of interest as he waited for the good doctor to finish his work, several more minutes passing before the doctor cleared his throat and held out a small leather case which now contained ten vials of Simion's personal mixture. Turning his attention back to the Doctor he nodded his thanks as he took them and slipped them inside of his jacket, but not before removing one of the vials and examining it closely.

"Remember" began the doctor in his thick accent "No more than one dose every four hours, and do not mix this with anything else." As he finished speaking he removed his thick glasses and rubbed his bagged eyes before moving over to the window and gazing out into the street of the town, Simion moving to stand beside the man as they watched several townspeople going about their business. The street was mostly composed of dry sand carried numerous foot, hoof and wagon prints, showing that it was a fairly busy part of the town. The buildings were contracted from mostly wood, though several of the more important buildings were brick and stone and looked much more secure.

"Yes yes" said the younger man somewhat dismissively as they both watched a wagon pulling up to the post office, a pair of workmen rushing out and beginning to unload its contents. Still holding the vial absently Simion made his way behind the counter of the store, pausing briefly to remove the small stopper and swallow its contents in one quick gulp. Placing the now empty vial onto the counter he smiled as he almost instantly felt the familiar 'rush' as he turned and knelt next to the heavy duty safe, taking a few moments to unlock it with the combination. He stood and opened the register, his eyes gazing for a few moments at the generous amount of coins and notes before he quickly transferred them across to the safe, but not before taking several of the notes and adding them to his own wallet. Closing the safe he placed ten dollars into Doctor Swartzlander's hand, the physician slipping it away in a moment as he nodded his thanks, mumbling something about how well the business had been doing, not that the younger man was particularly listening anymore.

Simion made his way back across the store, turning the sign from displaying 'open' to 'closed' before he said his goodbyes to the Doctor for the day and walking out into the heat of the evening. His head starting to swim he gazed up into the sky, the final rays of the sun streaking across his vision as he made his way towards main street. As he emerged onto main street he paused to steady himself against a horse that was hitched outside of the saloon, the horse a pitch black stallion that ignored him completely as he suddenly felt more shaky than he had realised.

As he stood trying to gather himself his attention was drawn to a man who left the tavern quickly and began running through the town, passing Simion and moving like he had a purpose. As the influence of the drugs continued to grow he took a deep breath and decided that he would need to sit somewhere and fast. Had his mind been functioning quickly he perhaps would have spared a few moments thoughts on why the man may have left the saloon, or perhaps noticed the tense atmosphere as soon as he wandered in. The saloon was a truly charming place, filled with booze and women like any fine establishment should be, his gaze shifting around the working girls and other patrons as he soon found himself at the bar. He failed to detect the air of tension or the fact that anything was happening really, instead he focused on making his way through the moderate crowd without bumping into anyone.

To his right was a quite intoxicated young man, his face showing both his inebriation and also something that Simion thought was either sadness or guilt as he stared into his glass with a deep look of melancholy on his face. Turning his attention to the very attractive woman behind the bar Simion watched as she spoke with a questionable looking individual who seemed to be wearing skull for a mask, causing Simion's to stare for a few moments before he shook his head slightly and sat himself onto one of the few remaining bar stools, almost irritated that the man's bizarre appearance had drawn his attention away from the woman . As he waited he continued to gaze around at the other patrons, noting a man wearing what seemed to be a somewhat oriental jacket and hat who was also at the bar. Lastly he turned where he was sat and swept his eyes over the numerous young women that were flitting around the saloon and speaking with the patrons, simply enjoying their enticing eveningwear as he idly stared around the place. He had been into the saloon once several months ago, though he now hardly remembered the encounter.

A few moments later he took out a small battered pouch of tobacco and began to roll together a very haphazard cigarette, his fingers seemingly not wanting to follow his instructions as he struggled to complete the relatively simple task, now focusing his entire attention on it, looking up only breifly as the man who had left the saloon barged back in and made his way directly towards the barmaid before whispering something to her.

"I'll certainly keep an eye on that drink of yours," Charlotte replied to Mr. Hersker as he got up and left in a considerable hurry. At least she had something to do now other than just drink. She took this moment to nonchalantly gaze around Lady Rose's saloon. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary: the rough men, the well-dressed women—well, some looking more classy than others. However, Charlotte couldn't help but pick up on something fishy. Or maybe that was the alcohol. Or the stress. She sighed; whatever. She still had that gun strapped onto her thigh if she needed it, so why worry?

Archie reentered the saloon and Charlotte threw him a gentle smile, but he instead went straight to Lady Rose, leaned over the bar, and whispered something to her.

Charlotte held her drink in her hands and took another small sip.

"That's the last time I do something for someone," she muttered, but then she chuckled at herself. It's not like she needed that second drink anyway.

"You know," she called out to Mr. Hersker and Lady Rose. "I am the Sheriff, in case you might've forgotten that little fact. If there's a bit of trouble I could help y'all out." Though deep down, she kinda didn't want to. She came here to escape her duties for a bit, but she simply felt compelled to offer.

Archie turned around at the call of his name and saw the rather splendid looking Sheriff was the voice behind it. He gave her a look that betrayed heavy thought, if he told her he'd have to split the reward even further; the only reason he had decided to entrust in Lady Rose the extent of Rat's bounty was due to the fact he didn't want to break any rules by pulling a gun out without permission. Now that he thought about it, he should have just shot Rat right there and then but he already whispered to the vixen behind the counter.

Hersker looked between the sheriff and his drink, he gave her a warm smile, "There is no trouble at all my darling!" he called back to her, rushing to her and getting down on his knee by her side, taking her hand. "Is there anything troubling you?" Archie was a very impulsive character and in hindsight he must have looked stupid.

Usually, when a man leaned up to whisper in her ear, it was something enticing, or at the very least funny—not a request to leave her own bar. "Outside?" Rose repeated blankly. "I—only for a moment, I suppose it'd be all right—"

She raised an eyebrow, settling her hands on her hips. "Unless you'd like to continue charming the Sheriff, in which case, be my guest, Mr Hesker."

Johnny looked at the three standing literally inches away from him, all of whom were not giving him a comfortable disposition. He was drunk, very drunk, but he knew a bad situation when he say one. He was an idiot, not a fool. The fella next to Rose smelt of death, and looked all to interested in him.

Johnny got up, stumbling a little in his first few steps until he barely fumbled onto someone's table. He quickly apologized, patting the table and shifting a chair partially back in it's place.

"Miss Rose," Johnny began as he neared the door, "I must thank you for your time and drink but I really must go. California waits *hiccup* for no man you see. Silver is in those damn hills and by God, Jesus, and some bitch I must go reclaim it!"

Sorry on mobile and I was trying to edit something. Please disregard!

Arch stood up from his kneeled position a bit red, he smiled at the still seated sheriff and slid his drink towards her, "Enjoy the ice Lady Charlotte, you've earned it." Upon hearing the yells of the now inebriated Rat, Hersker panicked and rounded on the man.

"My good sir!" he cried out, approaching him with a warm smile, "Not so fast! The sun is done casting it's oranges and reds on the sky and now it is nothing but black and pinpricks of white! Stay, I insist!" he gripped Rat's shoulder and pushed him gently back down to his seat, "Marjorie!" he called out, "One Rum and Ice for this gentleman!"

Archie took Rose's wrist from across the counter and began walking purposefully down the side of the counter, leading her with him from the other side of the bar top.

"No trust me I've rode by night before," Johnny replied. Yeah, this guy was up to no good. "Have that drink for yourself and celebrate my soon to be silver fortune. It'd been mighty nice to meet all of y'all."

With that, Johnny was nearly out the door until an old man who stank far more of booze then him stumbled through, pushing him aside.

"Ok you sumbitches, who's horse outside shit on my foot?," the old drunk questioned in heavy slurred bouts. "Black horse with a big grey spot on the neck?"

"That's mine sir," Johnny replied as he regain his composure. The old man turned on a dime, staring him down like a dog would a fox. The old man was much smaller then Johnny, a full foot short and plump like a spoiled turkey.

"What's your problem letting your horse shit on a man's foot boy?!"

Johnny looked at the old man confused. Man had no real place controlling his horse's bowels. What the drunkard asked was stupid, to an rediculous degree. Before Johnny had a moment to reply, the old man lifted up his shoe and displayed the obvious horse manure to the entire saloon.

"You are payin' for this boy! Cash money right here, right now!"

Johnny wanted to laugh his ass off at this moment, a situation so surreal that it sounded like something out of a book. He did his best to control himself, cracking a smile against the old man.

"Sir," Johnny drunkenly replied back, "I'm sorry for my horses actions, but I have no money to pay with. Can't you just looked the other way since I see the errors of my way?"

The old man sneered at him, a mug only a bear could love.

"You must be shitting me boy! Hell no! HELL NO! You better pay me now or I'll have the sherif have your head!"

"What in tarnation—oh!" Archie was pulling her from the bar, hand around her wrist, and with a sneer she yanked her hand free. "This is civilization, Hesker, you'd do well to remember that," she said, pleasantly enough but with a bite in her tone. Smoothing her skirts down, she followed him anyway, darting around Rat and the...pungent old man with the ease of long practice.

Once outside, she rounded on Archie, planting her hands on her hips and glaring. "What the hell is this about, Archibald?" she demanded. "I've got customers in there and you grab me in front of God and everybody? This had better be damn good."

As Simion finally finished rolling his cigarette he once more looked up at the bar and his fellow patrons, listening as they conversed amongst themselves and something of a situation began to unfold. Soon the seemingly eccentric 'Mr Hesker' was dragging their host and barkeep 'Miss Rose' from behind the counter and leading her towards the door despite her slight protest. They moved around the inebriated man, who himself was now deep in conversation with an old and equally inebriated man who was getting more and more flustered by the looks of it, raised voices starting to spill across the room.

Simion's attention was however more focused on the woman sat several stools down from him, the Sheriff apparently from what he had just overheard. Could that be right, he mused to himself as he continued to gaze in her direction for a few moments longer before realising that he was gaping slightly like a buffoon. Her features were gentile and her light blonde hair did little to enforce her apparent role as sheriff, especially when combined with the very flattering red evening gown she was wearing. His cigarette now forgotten Simion stood and moved his way over to the woman taking little notice of whatever situation was unfolding behind him as he sat in the now vacant seat beside her. With a charming smile he quickly caught her attention before asking "I'm sorry, but did I hear you say you are Sheriff Jackson?"

He went on to quickly introduce himself "I'm Simion Lothrop, I own the drugstore in town. Just moved here as well, so figured it would be appropriate to find you at some point. I must say I find it a more than pleasant surprise that Sheriff Jackson is a woman as charming as yourself". He continued to grin in his current state, barley being able to contain his current happiness despite the lack of drink he'd been offered thus far. Fortunately he was far too distracted at the moment to notice the lack of refreshing beverage, that or the situation behind him which became ever more hostile.

Just moments after one of the gents left the bar in a noticeable hurry, A man entered, unstable his foot steps were, trying to reach the bar before falling off Wu noticed. "Drugs" Wu thought. He have done drugs once, it wasn't pleasant it was more likely a bad patch. Wu's tension faded slowly so did his throat sore. He craved to order another drink, the booze was so tempting, Wu never started a drink before gulping another dozen of'em down. "Oh man, I'd kill for another drink" he cried in his head. Looking around, he noticed how everybody enjoyed drinking, excluding one man.. the newcomer.

As the newly stranger sat on a stool trying to roll a tobacco cigar on the counter Wu couldn't help but notice the man's shaking hands, Wu thought about asking the man for one, but decided not to, he had to keep his head clear and focused. When suddenly the carpenter busted through the doors and quickly reached the bar, he whispered something to rose, Wu looked away, searching for a good looking whore to warm his bed tonight. When one grabbed his full attention, she was smoking hot in a red panties and high heels, as he started approaching her, yet to take his first step, the felon stood and headed straight for the door as he bid his farewell to the bartender. Wu was relieved once more.

For a moment Wu was utterly calm and relaxed, he even thought about taking a bottle of wine with him upstairs to drink as he f***ed the whore. Until a moment of an unexpected chat happened between the carpenter and the felon. Wu's heart jumped into anxiety and tension, for he knew what was going on at that brief moment. The carpenter is after the ten thousand Wu concluded. And he was right, it all fit quiet nicely, the carpenter running outside in a rush, whispering to Rose, trying to seduce the felon in staying put at the saloon. Wu held his breath a bit as he swallowed hard. When suddenly an old man entered the saloon in an angry beat.

Shelly was a bit disappointed when he realized that such a fine bottle would cost him a little fortune. He did have enough to pay for it from his last job, even though it was a shitty one, however he needed his money for his own personal quest which he put on hold to rest. Marlett was still playing with his guns, probably getting bored of not having a proper company tonight.

He grunted loudly, he raised his head to meet the eyes of the smoking hostess, "I will be right back, I think I left some of my dollars outside." He needed a quick buck, and he knew where to get one. Shelly moved out of the crowded bar and skipped to his table, allowed Marlett to wrap his pistol holsters below his hips, crisscrossed. Sex. She was moaning by the time she was done, he comforted her with a whisper and promised to come back.

There was an exceptionally attractive young man by the bar which Shelly picked off the scent of Death from, a scent he is too far familiar with. And judging by his apparel and good demeanor, he was a perfectly wealthy, Shelly thought.

When The young man busted out of the saloon, like a frightened Indian running away from a fleet of Dutchmen, Shelly took the opportunity to stalk him. He managed to catch up silently and hide in the night's hot shadows. He waited outside the young man's workshop until he was out again in the same amount of rush.

Shelly waited for two more minutes before walking out of the shadows and approached the workshop. He smelled death and an expensive fragrance as well. The door wasn't locked, it didn't really matter, but Shelly was amused nevertheless. He walked in and slowly searched around, looking for some gold so he could just go back and get that bottle tonight. Perhaps bed Marlett and sip of the godly nectar.

There were tools around, pictures, lots of wooden pieces and and ropes, no gold. Shelly kept searching and finally decided to try the young man's living quarter. There he found a small safe and some boxes around. Shelly took out a pin and cursed it with some Indian chants, his red eyes gleaming in the dark room.

The safe opened, he was quite excited, he needed some grass or sugar. He took whatever coins and dollar bills from the safe and decided to leave it open. He intentionally walked out the room while breaking whatever vases or furniture in his way. He finally reached the door, then decided to leave the young man a present.

Shelly took a huge dump in one of the Coffins. Closed it and walked out, heading for the bar.

"Expensive fragrance THAT, fancypants."

Archie popped hushed back into the saloon for a moment to make sure they weren't being watched before turning to the clearly annoyed Rose, his eyes glinting. "Do you believe in miracles, Madam Rose?" he asked, taking a few tentative steps towards her but taking a step back after noticing how close he had gotten, "I believe in miracle and it just so happened that a 10,000 dollar miracle is sitting shit-faced in your saloon," Archie leaned in and whispered into her ear, "Care to make an agreement?"

He wasn't going to shoot a man dead in the business of another person, for two reasons, he'd probably get shot in the process and Rose would get pretty damn pissed, "All I need you to do is make the saloon very loud and I'll cut you a nice big piece of that 10,000 I mentioned."

A little bit of color flushed Charlotte's face as Mr. Hersker, appearing much too jumpy tonight, got on one knee and grabbed her hand like some kind of... Romeo. He asked her what was wrong and Charlotte shook her head, though her hand was trembling.

"N-No," she replied with a small stutter. "You appear to be a little anxious; that's why I asked."

Then the mortician stood up, slid his drink over to her, and ran off again to God-knows-where. She still didn't need that second drink, but it'd be a waste just to leave it there... What was she to do? As if God was answering her unconscious prayer, someone else sat down next to her, filling Archie's vacant seat. It looked to be... Simon? Er, no... Simion! If she wasn't mistaken, this chap was new to the town as well.

"Yes, that's me indeed," Charlotte replied when he questioned her identity.

He proceeded to introduce himself and confirm that yes, he was new to Sand Flats as well. Charlotte's memory was working well, though she was quite surprised she could remember his name and a bit of his backstory.

Then he complimented her, causing her to giggle a little bit though politely so.

"Why, thank you, Mr...—" She paused and in the split second forgot his last name. "Mr. Simion. What a flattering compliment. Here..." She slid Archie's drink over to him casually. "Why don't you have this as a reward for such chivalry, on me." Charlotte was glad to be rid of that drink anyways; she took a sip from her own.

"Oh please, just call me Simion" he said grinning as he reached out and palmed the drink she had slid across to him. As she took a sip of her own beverage he raised the cool glass to his lips and gave it an enquiring sniff as the ice clinked, a fancy beverage no doubt in a place like this.

Recognising the familiar scent of rum Simion took a deep swig from the glass, practically emptying it as he quickly realised how thirsty he was. The taste was somewhat divine in his current state, the dark liquid leaving a fine and smooth aftertaste as well as he swilled the last of the beverage around his mouth before swallowing.

"Many thanks Miss Jackson" he said with a slightly misplaced chuckle, his eyes once more wandering around his surroundings as his mind also began to wander. He thought about the woman beside him and what she must have been through to find herself as the Sheriff of a frontier town like this one, and then he wondered how many men she might have killed up to this point.

Snapping his thoughts away from such a negative topic he turned back to her and tried to make further conversation, asking her first about how she was finding the town and her responsibilities before attempting to move the topic along and determine her general opinions and get a feel of what kind of woman she was. In his state he was most talkative, almost forwards in his questioning, although fortunately for Simion he had enough charm and personality do that it didn't seem too odd of a way for him to behave. In truth he was trying to get to know her slightly and possibly at the same time get a feel for what kind of lawman she was.

Rose leaned back from Archie as he leaned forward, wrinkling her nose slightly in distaste. Accustomed to invasions of personal space she was, but that didn't mean she had to tolerate his kind of behavior.

At least until he said the words 'ten thousand dollars.' Her mood had never changed so fast.

"You mean—?" she started, but never finished, eyebrows raised almost to her hairline. Oh, yes, she'd seen enough bounty hunters to understand what Archie was trying to tell her. She glanced him over, eyes narrowing slightly as she reevaluated her sudden thrill—she'd never seen the man shoot, and if he grazed one of her customers trying to rake in ten grand...

"I want seven thousand," she said briskly, in an undertone low enough to be inaudible to anyone but him. "You're gonna be shooting up my saloon, after all. And if you breathe a word of this to anyone else, I'll have you run out of town faster than you can say 'Rampinella,' understand?"

Johnny wanted nothing more then to shoot this old man in the face with his revolver. The old bastard was in his face now, cusing and cursing the alphabet. It got to the point that Johnny had to go back to his seat and down the drink the weasally fella had ordered him.

He wasn't sure he could take it much longer as he stared the old man down. The old man was relentless, demanding a hundred dollars to have a cobbler clean and shine his shoe that his horse has sullied.