Chris "Buck" Buckwood was already seated in the saloon, taking a whole round table to himself with his legs propped up onto the table, leaning his wooden chair backward. A silver coin danced between his fingers and a smile played at his thin, tight lips. Despite his casual demeanor, Chris Buckwood was hard at work.

His deep-set eyes flicked back and forth at all the patrons in the saloon. Scanning for an easy mark. His suitcase sat beside him, full of all sorts of gambling "devices" and snake-oil products. You never knew when a weighted die or a vial full of "Miracle Grow" would come in handy. The job never stopped, and Buck was always on lookout for some potential...clients.

So, there was Buck, legs propped onto the table, leaning backwards in his chair, with no one bothering or wanting to sit at the same table as him, and he seemed all the happier for it.  He would keep his trap shut, for now. Bide his time. Take in the atmosphere. Read people. Then he might invite someone over for a game of cards.