[i]Bureau... bureau... tabernac... BUREAU?... Ah va te faire enculer...[/i] Lauren tossed the man to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Every building looked the same, not one of the buildings had any identification, except for maybe the saloon, of course, no place of law, but there's a place to fucking play cards! Yipee-fucking-ki-yay.

Spinning in place, trying to find someone, anyone who could happen to know where the sheriff was hiding, Lauren called out to anyone who passed.

"Ah! Tu! Oyoyoyoy!..." Biting his lip, Lauren took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. Everyone in this town was either drunk or hungover. Either that or so utterly insipid that the sight of what looked Indian caused them to vomit in their mouth. Throwing his hat back on, Lauren unclasped his poncho and threw it over his shoulder. It landed on top of the poor man, who groaned and fought his hogties in an attempt to throw off the oppressive poncho. Lauren's eyes settled back onto the saloon, maybe there was someone with the authority to take the bounty in there.

Lazily picking the man off the ground, Lauren strode towards the saloon. Flicking open his pocket watch, he gave one look at the time, not even seeing it to be honest, before flicking it closed and stuffing it into a coat pocket. The tavern, of course, smelled just as he imagined, like piss and beer, just like every other tavern. A group of men sat in the corner playing cards, one looked up a moment, recognizing Lauren. The two stared a moment, a kind of stare only one you know can give, the same kind one might give a lover after a spat, the kind Lauren knew too well, or the stare a child would give a father he hated. Again, a stare Lauren knew too well. The man's turn came and he slowly lowered his head, his eyes not leaving Lauren's own until finally their souls parted and Lauren was free.

The bar was alive, the kind of life a lame ass maintains, ambling slowly and hobbling along, waiting for the almighty bullet to free it from the land of the living. There was no sheriff though, unfortunately, no matter that, Lauren was in a saloon, he had no choice but to play cards, it was his duty to himself.

Lauren's arm was getting very tired, he was nowhere near strong enough to hold up a man for as long as he had. Tossing the outlaw to the floor of the tavern with a thump, he kicked him over to a corner. Pulling off the wanted man's gag, he didn't even let the man have a groan before he had stuffed the now balled up gag into his mouth. He had no reason to, the man was just as unable to talk as before, but now he looked like a cooked pig with an apple in it's mouth, and that was amusing to Lauren on a level that little else managed to be.

Wandering over to the hold-em table, he took a seat and handed the dealer a few dollars. The man from before looked up from his cards, again they danced with their eyes. Lauren couldn't help but chuckle.

"Avec moi, sil-vous-plait." He said, turning to the dealer and crossing his legs. Talk had halted, and now everyone was staring at the magical injun, wearing a white-man's clothes and sitting at a white-man's table, speaking a white-man's language and having a white-man's skin. It was almost as if he were white, but no, that couldn't be correct, men couldn't just show up pretending to be something they weren't.

He turned in his seat a moment, catching a glimpse of a man who had half a face. That was something Lauren hadn't expected, surprising that the Indian got all the attention with that sitting at the bar. That didn't matter though.

There wasn't much that mattered in Lauren's mind currently, he was looking for something in his mind that he was having trouble finding. His elders back in Manitoba had talked about a man's quest, one that every man goes through at one point in his life. Lauren was getting older, he already had too many children, and yet he hadn't found his quest, perhaps it was time to stop waiting for it to find him, and time for him to actively search for it.