[h1][center][color=00aeef] Erik Torvald Viken [/color][/center][/h1]

Great. Not only was the woman just about to start a shoot-out in the saloon, regardless of what he and now the others surrounding her told her. Not only was the damned Indian speaking a undechipherable language, Erik swore it was French but he had no actually knowledge of it. Not  only was the other man, the one with a whole in his mouth, effectivly pushing him aside even for his sheriff's star. 

Oh no, the cheek-holed Southern troll face had the audacity to call him 'Boy'.

[color=00aeef]"...What did you just call me, rasshøl?"[/color]

Erik was about to turn to him, when the others spoke up to either support Erik as sheriff or warn the lady from fighting. One man raised his glass to him, to which Erik gave a quick nod before turning his attention to the problem at hand. The problem was shoved under the carpet for another second, as the Indian got his attention and saying 'Bounty'. 

[color=00aeef]"...What, the one there? Look, I'm just supposed to get back the stolen cattle, not deal with your fordømte bounties, fights, racism and all that møkk! Now please, would you be so nice as to..."[/color]

Had he not been cut off by the lady suddenly striking at the Indian fellow, he would have probably tried to calm down and talk the situation back under his control - not that it had been that in the first place. But now Erik's patience was running thin, as he simply turned around and walked over to sit beside the man with the looks of a sailor. 

[color=00aeef]"Faen heller, give me your strongest bourbon...And do not tell me that the sheriff can't drink..."[/color]