((This would be a good spot to jump in, Chessy. All they are doing is talking with each other and getting to know each other. It would be a simple and easy task to get your character involved.))
Sydney gave a small chuckle at the first simple explanation. A fireball would be a good sign that someone was magical. The other information was rather interesting. He never would have thought that strange eye colors would be an indicator. However, the more he thought about it the more it made sense. Sydney could not recall the eye color of any of the fellers he hunted down. Maybe he had more experience with magic than he realized.
Was it possible all three of them were searching for the same man. Sydney only had a few minor clues to go off from. The other two men had a clearer image in the mind of the person they were hunting. Sydney thought if the three of them worked together their odds were improve greatly. The idea was appealing more and more to him as he thought about it. He would have to bring up the idea after the hand was finished.
"I'll keep my eye open next time. What did these magic gunslinger fellers do?"
Sydney gave a small chuckle at the first simple explanation. A fireball would be a good sign that someone was magical. The other information was rather interesting. He never would have thought that strange eye colors would be an indicator. However, the more he thought about it the more it made sense. Sydney could not recall the eye color of any of the fellers he hunted down. Maybe he had more experience with magic than he realized.
Was it possible all three of them were searching for the same man. Sydney only had a few minor clues to go off from. The other two men had a clearer image in the mind of the person they were hunting. Sydney thought if the three of them worked together their odds were improve greatly. The idea was appealing more and more to him as he thought about it. He would have to bring up the idea after the hand was finished.
"I'll keep my eye open next time. What did these magic gunslinger fellers do?"
((Oki doki))
Cheshire or "Chessy" Hunter was new in town. Just arrived the night before actually. There seemed to be a lot of new people in town lately. What made Saltypeak so popular all of a sudden? Chessy didn´t know these other people. He wasn´t very familiar with anyone here in fact. He had arrived in the middle of the night, which - as a stranger - was no bad idea. Less eyes on ya that way. And less eyes on him. Didn´t have to worry about chit-chatter or feeling watched as he wandered to his room. He had gotten a bit of sleep, but eventually had to go out as he couldn´t stay in his room all day. That would be suspicious. Though Cheshire didn´t deal in suspicious or shady business he himself was odd and often attracted attention for it. Folks said he spoke weird. That he spoke in riddles and it was like a foreign language. He was weird. Cuckoo as they said. But for whatever reason Chessy wandered silently into the bar/saloon, where our other strangers were, their table fairly close to the door. Close enough that they would notice him.
He was fairly small compared to them, perhaps a bit shorter than the average height. His skin was pale, he had vibrant blue eyes, that seemed almost green. He had shaggy dark hair that sometimes swept over his eye. It looked like it hadn´t known the touch of a brush in many moons yet at the same time it was soft and gentle. He was wearing a white shirt and a dark-brown vest. From his vest ran a little chain from a pocket-watch. Chessy looked around the room, a bit nervous perhaps. He looked like he was in his early- to mid-twenties. He walked in further so as to not stand in the way and sort of put himself in a corner a bit. He had one hand in his pocket and the other scratching the back of his head.
Cheshire or "Chessy" Hunter was new in town. Just arrived the night before actually. There seemed to be a lot of new people in town lately. What made Saltypeak so popular all of a sudden? Chessy didn´t know these other people. He wasn´t very familiar with anyone here in fact. He had arrived in the middle of the night, which - as a stranger - was no bad idea. Less eyes on ya that way. And less eyes on him. Didn´t have to worry about chit-chatter or feeling watched as he wandered to his room. He had gotten a bit of sleep, but eventually had to go out as he couldn´t stay in his room all day. That would be suspicious. Though Cheshire didn´t deal in suspicious or shady business he himself was odd and often attracted attention for it. Folks said he spoke weird. That he spoke in riddles and it was like a foreign language. He was weird. Cuckoo as they said. But for whatever reason Chessy wandered silently into the bar/saloon, where our other strangers were, their table fairly close to the door. Close enough that they would notice him.
He was fairly small compared to them, perhaps a bit shorter than the average height. His skin was pale, he had vibrant blue eyes, that seemed almost green. He had shaggy dark hair that sometimes swept over his eye. It looked like it hadn´t known the touch of a brush in many moons yet at the same time it was soft and gentle. He was wearing a white shirt and a dark-brown vest. From his vest ran a little chain from a pocket-watch. Chessy looked around the room, a bit nervous perhaps. He looked like he was in his early- to mid-twenties. He walked in further so as to not stand in the way and sort of put himself in a corner a bit. He had one hand in his pocket and the other scratching the back of his head.
It was out of habit that Frank's eyes flicked toward the door as it swung open again. He looked first toward the newcomer's hands... but the man's pinkie finger looked to be intact, so this wasn't Four-Fingered Tim.
The next place for the bounty hunter's habitual gaze to go was the forearm, but that was covered by the white shirt. So he couldn't see if there was the tell-tale tattoo of the snake wrapped around the six-shooter. Odds were low anyway. Normally, that would have been the end of his interest in the man. But it was his demeanor that struck Frank as potentially troubling. After a decade of tracking down bounties, he'd gotten pretty good at picking up on the signs of a nervous person. And nervous people tended to do some dumb or dangerous things.
He noted the hand in the man's pocket. Was there a derringer in that pocket, perhaps? The way he'd gone to stand toward a corner made it seem like he was waiting for something. Maybe another person. Maybe to steel himself for something.
"Speakin' of odd sticks and squirrely fellers..." Frank said to the marshal and the agent, gesturing with only the slightest tilt of his hat toward Cheshire.
The next place for the bounty hunter's habitual gaze to go was the forearm, but that was covered by the white shirt. So he couldn't see if there was the tell-tale tattoo of the snake wrapped around the six-shooter. Odds were low anyway. Normally, that would have been the end of his interest in the man. But it was his demeanor that struck Frank as potentially troubling. After a decade of tracking down bounties, he'd gotten pretty good at picking up on the signs of a nervous person. And nervous people tended to do some dumb or dangerous things.
He noted the hand in the man's pocket. Was there a derringer in that pocket, perhaps? The way he'd gone to stand toward a corner made it seem like he was waiting for something. Maybe another person. Maybe to steel himself for something.
"Speakin' of odd sticks and squirrely fellers..." Frank said to the marshal and the agent, gesturing with only the slightest tilt of his hat toward Cheshire.
“What do they not do?” Faulkner humors the question with one of his own. “Mr. Efferson’s lookin’ for someone in particular, but I’m on somethin’ of a monster hunting, Good Will tour for the government...”
The agent trails off as he catches Frank’s remark. His eyes trail over to the corner Chessy has taken for himself. The agent eyes the nervous fellow with natural attentiveness.
“Huh, he looks like the sort of man who’ll whack a stablehand with a jammed gun in a panic, just to steal a horse.”
The agent trails off as he catches Frank’s remark. His eyes trail over to the corner Chessy has taken for himself. The agent eyes the nervous fellow with natural attentiveness.
“Huh, he looks like the sort of man who’ll whack a stablehand with a jammed gun in a panic, just to steal a horse.”
His horse was as black as the night he rode in on. A large framed man unmounted and tied his trail worn horse to a hitchin post. His first instinct was to head over to the saloon and get a drink. But he wasn't in the mood for questions. Still, he figured he would atleast see how busy the place was as he headed down the street, and eventually stepped up onto the porch with as little noise as possible.
When Cole passed by the door and paused to look inside, he noticed a full house of different people. One nervous fella seemed to have some attention. Maybe then people would just let him drink and get a room. Cole pushed the door open and stepped inside. He kept his hat down and eyes forward as he made his way to the far end of the bar and ordered a whiskey. When he took the glass in his hand, the strange mark on his guns grip was shown for a split second before his duster covered it back up. He hoped it would go unnoticed.
When Cole passed by the door and paused to look inside, he noticed a full house of different people. One nervous fella seemed to have some attention. Maybe then people would just let him drink and get a room. Cole pushed the door open and stepped inside. He kept his hat down and eyes forward as he made his way to the far end of the bar and ordered a whiskey. When he took the glass in his hand, the strange mark on his guns grip was shown for a split second before his duster covered it back up. He hoped it would go unnoticed.
((I´m giving Krispy/Sydney Richards a chance to respond))
Sydney looked over his cards. He had a good poker hand but tried to keep a neutral expression on his face. He could blow his fun The others were drawn towards the doorway as the saloon doors were opened. Sydney glanced towards the side as the first newcomer entered the saloon. He did seem like a squirrely feller. Kind of like he was nervous about something. The marshal watched the new male for a good minute or so while the card game continued on.
"What brings ya to Saltypeak, stranger?" Sydney asked Chessy.
Sydney returned his gaze to the card game. Only a few minutes went by before the door opened again. This town was getting a lot of new faces. He furrowed his brow lightly and looked towards Frank. He seemed to know the most about the town. Sydney pointed towards the doors with his thumb.
"It normal to get this many new fellers?"
Sydney looked over the newest arrival. He also looked rather suspicious. The sight of the guns did not escape his attention but the mark was unknown to Sydney. His eyes followed the newest male as he ordered his drink and looked around the pub.
"You looking for trouble, mister?" Sydney directed this question towards Cole.
"What brings ya to Saltypeak, stranger?" Sydney asked Chessy.
Sydney returned his gaze to the card game. Only a few minutes went by before the door opened again. This town was getting a lot of new faces. He furrowed his brow lightly and looked towards Frank. He seemed to know the most about the town. Sydney pointed towards the doors with his thumb.
"It normal to get this many new fellers?"
Sydney looked over the newest arrival. He also looked rather suspicious. The sight of the guns did not escape his attention but the mark was unknown to Sydney. His eyes followed the newest male as he ordered his drink and looked around the pub.
"You looking for trouble, mister?" Sydney directed this question towards Cole.
Cole had barely gotten his whiskey when he heard a man ask him if he was lookin for trouble. "Barkeep, I also need a room." Cole tipped his drink back and downed the whiskey before paying for it and his room. Cole stood up after a minute and began to head to his room, but paused by the poker table to answer the mans question.
"I ain't lookin for trouble mister, unless it finds me first. Names Cole. I Heard rumors on the trail bout some strange howlin and some sorta beast round these parts. Figured that was more entertaining than chasin bandits and outlaws. Y'all hear of anything strange round here lately? "
Cole had managed to keep his right hand and gun covered for now. He figured he would have to show what it was at some point, but not until the time was right.
"I ain't lookin for trouble mister, unless it finds me first. Names Cole. I Heard rumors on the trail bout some strange howlin and some sorta beast round these parts. Figured that was more entertaining than chasin bandits and outlaws. Y'all hear of anything strange round here lately? "
Cole had managed to keep his right hand and gun covered for now. He figured he would have to show what it was at some point, but not until the time was right.
Chessy had noticed the fellows playing poker, when he entered, but had pretended not to and tried not to make eye-contact. He was nervous, because he was new here and there were so many people here. And the guys playing poker looked sorta scary to him. And nervous for other reasons...
Chessy looked up from the ground he´d been staring at, and faced Sydney, when he asked him what brought him to Saltypeak. "Just passing through," Cheshire mumbled and looked away again. He felt uneasy about the new stranger, who´d come through. He looked like someone you wouldn´t want to mess with. And he definitely noticed the gun. The barkeep called Cheshire over and gave him a cup of tea. Cheshire sat down on one of the barstools and drank it. An unusual drink to choose maybe, but it calmed him down and reminded him of home. He was pretty sure the barkeep laughed at him, when he´d asked for it. When Cole mentioned something about howling beasts, Chessy spilt the hot tea over his hand causing him to jump a bit in his seat. "Ow!" He hissed and waved his injured hand. The barkeep didn´t seem to think anything of it and came over to help him clean it up and gave him some ice for his burn.
Chessy looked up from the ground he´d been staring at, and faced Sydney, when he asked him what brought him to Saltypeak. "Just passing through," Cheshire mumbled and looked away again. He felt uneasy about the new stranger, who´d come through. He looked like someone you wouldn´t want to mess with. And he definitely noticed the gun. The barkeep called Cheshire over and gave him a cup of tea. Cheshire sat down on one of the barstools and drank it. An unusual drink to choose maybe, but it calmed him down and reminded him of home. He was pretty sure the barkeep laughed at him, when he´d asked for it. When Cole mentioned something about howling beasts, Chessy spilt the hot tea over his hand causing him to jump a bit in his seat. "Ow!" He hissed and waved his injured hand. The barkeep didn´t seem to think anything of it and came over to help him clean it up and gave him some ice for his burn.
"Doubt it," Frank said to Sydney's question as his gaze followed Chessy over to the bar. "But I ain't been here but a couple days."
At Cole's question, Frank's gaze went back to Bill who had mentioned the howlin' earlier. Maybe there something to this. Part of him actually felt a little excited at the prospect, along with a healthy tickle of fear. "Hmmmm...." he mused. "Maybe the same beast Bill heard? It causing any trouble to anyone?"
The question had barely left his mouth when a thought hit him ... Four Fingered Tim. He'd tracked the man here and then lost him. So there was one missing person at least. Course... it could be nothin' but the same rumor running wild and beginning to spread. Don't let your imagination run away with you Frank, he scolded himself.
"Looks like you won't be short on volunteers, Agent."
At Cole's question, Frank's gaze went back to Bill who had mentioned the howlin' earlier. Maybe there something to this. Part of him actually felt a little excited at the prospect, along with a healthy tickle of fear. "Hmmmm...." he mused. "Maybe the same beast Bill heard? It causing any trouble to anyone?"
The question had barely left his mouth when a thought hit him ... Four Fingered Tim. He'd tracked the man here and then lost him. So there was one missing person at least. Course... it could be nothin' but the same rumor running wild and beginning to spread. Don't let your imagination run away with you Frank, he scolded himself.
"Looks like you won't be short on volunteers, Agent."
((Going to a festival tomorrow just so you know. Will only be gone a day or most of the day, but will reply as soon as I can))
“Yeah, looks like it,” Faulkner muses as he folds and shows his hand: two of a kind, a pair of sevens. The going-ons of the saloon are proving to be distracting to his continued participation in the card game.
Sydney looked towards the man in the corner of the room again. Standing there was not making his suspicions any less. With a small gesture of his hand he signaled to the male in the corner.
"Join us or at least pick a table, stranger."
The howling peaked Sydney's interest. The stable hands seemed worried about some beast lurking in the darkness. Could be the same one that Frank was talking about. A beast could prove quite the challenge. Even without being magical in nature.
"The stable hand fellers by the inn were worried about it. May know something," Sydney said to Frank.
Sydney turned his attention back towards the card game. He placed his cards on the table. The marshal had a straight for his cards. A small smirk played on his lips as he turned to the other man who remained in the card game. Sydney nodded his head towards the cards for him to show his hand.
"Where your gunslingers last seen, Agent?"
"Join us or at least pick a table, stranger."
The howling peaked Sydney's interest. The stable hands seemed worried about some beast lurking in the darkness. Could be the same one that Frank was talking about. A beast could prove quite the challenge. Even without being magical in nature.
"The stable hand fellers by the inn were worried about it. May know something," Sydney said to Frank.
Sydney turned his attention back towards the card game. He placed his cards on the table. The marshal had a straight for his cards. A small smirk played on his lips as he turned to the other man who remained in the card game. Sydney nodded his head towards the cards for him to show his hand.
"Where your gunslingers last seen, Agent?"
The saloon's madame, a woman with fire on her tongue and in her soul, rushed up the stairs and began banging on a door. "Sayen! Git yer arse downstairs now! The saloon has got customers!" Going back down once a thud was heard soon the Mapuche woman was dressed as a harlot should.
Making her way downstairs, she painted her face sparsely as per the Madame's instructions. A little kohl to draw attention to her almond eyes and a smearing of stain on her lips. Dressed in green, a color she was told she looked good in, Sayen let her gaze sweep the full saloon. "My, my a full house..."
Muttering under her breath, Sayen went around to every table, picking up snippets of conversation whilst she refilled glasses. Smiling in a way that did not quite reach her eyes she stopped at a table where a game was being played. "Can I offer you gents a refreshment?" Flicking her eyes outside with the howls, knowing the beasts would come a callin', before returning her attention to the table.
((I hope you don't mind me jumping in ^^))
Making her way downstairs, she painted her face sparsely as per the Madame's instructions. A little kohl to draw attention to her almond eyes and a smearing of stain on her lips. Dressed in green, a color she was told she looked good in, Sayen let her gaze sweep the full saloon. "My, my a full house..."
Muttering under her breath, Sayen went around to every table, picking up snippets of conversation whilst she refilled glasses. Smiling in a way that did not quite reach her eyes she stopped at a table where a game was being played. "Can I offer you gents a refreshment?" Flicking her eyes outside with the howls, knowing the beasts would come a callin', before returning her attention to the table.
((I hope you don't mind me jumping in ^^))
Chessy was still tending to his hand and cursing slightly, when Sydney Richards signaled to him and told him to join them. He simply said: "When is it bad luck to see a black cat?" He then turned to his tea and took another, more careful, sip. Someone nearby heard and made a quiet gesture to say that Chessy was crazy or weird. Maybe they would understand what Chessy meant, maybe they wouldn´t. It didn´t matter.
The players continued their conversation about some howling or whatever it was. If Chessy Hunter knew anything, he didn´t say or show. They talked about how people were worried about some beast running amok. "My philosophy is that worrying means you suffer twice," he said quietly, unsure whether they heard it or not. He looked up curiously, when the saloon madame yelled at someone up the stairs. And shortly after a saloon girl came down, dressed as a harlot. She was wearing green, a colour that Chessy liked, and which suited her. Chessy wasn´t distracted for long and soon returned to his tea, seemingly unaffected. "Curiouser and curiouser," he mumbled.
The players continued their conversation about some howling or whatever it was. If Chessy Hunter knew anything, he didn´t say or show. They talked about how people were worried about some beast running amok. "My philosophy is that worrying means you suffer twice," he said quietly, unsure whether they heard it or not. He looked up curiously, when the saloon madame yelled at someone up the stairs. And shortly after a saloon girl came down, dressed as a harlot. She was wearing green, a colour that Chessy liked, and which suited her. Chessy wasn´t distracted for long and soon returned to his tea, seemingly unaffected. "Curiouser and curiouser," he mumbled.
((Welcome, D3monQu33n!))
Frank's gaze was drawn momentarily to the woman, his relaxed air evaporating a little and the edges of his mouth moving down in a frown.
She was quite eye-catching, made more so by the green dress that flattered her features. A lady’s place ain’t in a saloon, though. Which gave Frank some immediate suspicions that her real job here weren't just refilling whiskey glasses. Though, he'd still treat her like a lady even if he strongly suspected she ain’t one at all.
"I'll have anoth... " he was going to say 'another whiskey', but if there was a chance of meeting this howling monster tonight, a little liquid courage wasn't a bad thing, but he'd better not be too roostered to shoot straight. "How 'bout a sarsaparilla... ma'am?"
He gave another sideways look at Chessy as the odd man seemed to turn down Sydney's invitation, muttering something about black cats. Maybe he was high on opium or something, Frank thought sourly, his opinion of this place having dropped several notches at the appearance of the harlot.
Frank's gaze was drawn momentarily to the woman, his relaxed air evaporating a little and the edges of his mouth moving down in a frown.
She was quite eye-catching, made more so by the green dress that flattered her features. A lady’s place ain’t in a saloon, though. Which gave Frank some immediate suspicions that her real job here weren't just refilling whiskey glasses. Though, he'd still treat her like a lady even if he strongly suspected she ain’t one at all.
"I'll have anoth... " he was going to say 'another whiskey', but if there was a chance of meeting this howling monster tonight, a little liquid courage wasn't a bad thing, but he'd better not be too roostered to shoot straight. "How 'bout a sarsaparilla... ma'am?"
He gave another sideways look at Chessy as the odd man seemed to turn down Sydney's invitation, muttering something about black cats. Maybe he was high on opium or something, Frank thought sourly, his opinion of this place having dropped several notches at the appearance of the harlot.
Faulkner eyes Sayen as she approaches their table, more surprised by her ethnicity than her occupation—after all, the last town he occupied space in had a saloon full of working gals.
“Ah...yeah, I’ll one more for the road,” he announces with a wiggle of his near empty glass. The agent sets his glass aside for the fill up and pulls his attention back to the squirrelly fellow; the agent eyes him as he addresses Sydney:
“Talk to Mister Efferson about his gunslinger—it’s his problem. I’m a bit more interested in this howling beast that’s got folks in a tizzy.”
To Sydney’s benefit, Bill shows his hand: a straight, numbers three through seven.
“Ah...yeah, I’ll one more for the road,” he announces with a wiggle of his near empty glass. The agent sets his glass aside for the fill up and pulls his attention back to the squirrelly fellow; the agent eyes him as he addresses Sydney:
“Talk to Mister Efferson about his gunslinger—it’s his problem. I’m a bit more interested in this howling beast that’s got folks in a tizzy.”
To Sydney’s benefit, Bill shows his hand: a straight, numbers three through seven.
The short, brown-haired woman who walked into the saloon couldn't have been more out of place than one of the dusty cattlemen walking into Buckingham Palace for tea with the queen. Even more surprising than her wide swishing black hoop skirt, flawless white shirtwaist, and the peridot and mother-of-pearl brooch at her neck was the confidence with which she approached the bar, before reaching into her black leather bag to pull out a small bit of paper covered with indecipherable pencil scrawls.
"Good afternoon," she greeted the barkeep in the well-bred tones of the east. "I'm running a bit low on medicine this week. Do you think you could set me up with--" she squinted, then pulled a pair of spectacles out of her bag and slid them in front of her large brown eyes. "Two bottles of whiskey, a bottle of gin, and a bit of red wine? If you have it, of course," she added, replacing the glasses and her list in her bag. "And I wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee for myself. Was out most of the night."
Doctor Delacroix, as she preferred to be called (or "Doc Charlie," as the residents of Saltypeak usually addressed her) was too tired most of the time to be considered pretty, what with her drawn cheeks and the dark circles practically tattooed beneath her eyes, but in her opinion doctors didn't need to be pretty, they just needed to be competent. She'd had a hard enough time convincing this one-horse town that a woman could treat gunshot wounds and monster bites as well as a man, but in the end she'd won them over. Sort of. Mostly, she suspected, they just realized that no sane man would brave the dangers of the desert to bother setting up a practice in such an isolated place, so they settled for the woman crazy enough to attempt it.
As she waited for the "prescriptions," as they were, to be filled, her gaze fell upon Sayen, somewhat critically. The doctor often visited the saloon for more than liquor. Back east, Charlotte had seen firsthand the damage that could be done when prostitutes weren't checked regularly for disease, and she had made an arrangement with the madam of the establishment to never charge for the monthly examinations she provided to the girls. The trouble was that whenever one of them did show sign of illness, the old witch never followed Charlotte's instruction to let the poor creature rest and fight off the infection. Best case scenario they got one night off and either whiskey or some backcountry folk remedies, unless the doctor was lucky enough to get her hands on some real medicine.
As far as Charlotte could tell at this distance though, Sayen seemed healthy enough, though if she couldn't scrounge up any business the doctor thought it might be worthwhile to pull her aside and see how things were going. In the meantime though, she could respect the fact that the lady needed to work, and the last thing she wanted to to scare off any potential customers. But then again, there did seem to be an awful lot of strangers in the bar today. Maybe they would just think she was a concerned citizen, rather than a doctor speaking in hushed tones to a woman of ill repute.
Speaking of newcomers, when her coffee came the doctor was rather pleased to see someone else sitting at the bar and at least attempting to maintain some level of sobriety. The man on the next stool over had opted for tea instead of liquor, which in her opinion was the mark of a true gentleman. She couldn't help but notice though a rather nasty burn on the dark-haired fellow's hand. "My, that looks painful," Charlotte murmured to the man, taking her spectacles out of her bag again. "Did that just happen? I have a bit of salve here, do you mind if I take a look?"
"Good afternoon," she greeted the barkeep in the well-bred tones of the east. "I'm running a bit low on medicine this week. Do you think you could set me up with--" she squinted, then pulled a pair of spectacles out of her bag and slid them in front of her large brown eyes. "Two bottles of whiskey, a bottle of gin, and a bit of red wine? If you have it, of course," she added, replacing the glasses and her list in her bag. "And I wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee for myself. Was out most of the night."
Doctor Delacroix, as she preferred to be called (or "Doc Charlie," as the residents of Saltypeak usually addressed her) was too tired most of the time to be considered pretty, what with her drawn cheeks and the dark circles practically tattooed beneath her eyes, but in her opinion doctors didn't need to be pretty, they just needed to be competent. She'd had a hard enough time convincing this one-horse town that a woman could treat gunshot wounds and monster bites as well as a man, but in the end she'd won them over. Sort of. Mostly, she suspected, they just realized that no sane man would brave the dangers of the desert to bother setting up a practice in such an isolated place, so they settled for the woman crazy enough to attempt it.
As she waited for the "prescriptions," as they were, to be filled, her gaze fell upon Sayen, somewhat critically. The doctor often visited the saloon for more than liquor. Back east, Charlotte had seen firsthand the damage that could be done when prostitutes weren't checked regularly for disease, and she had made an arrangement with the madam of the establishment to never charge for the monthly examinations she provided to the girls. The trouble was that whenever one of them did show sign of illness, the old witch never followed Charlotte's instruction to let the poor creature rest and fight off the infection. Best case scenario they got one night off and either whiskey or some backcountry folk remedies, unless the doctor was lucky enough to get her hands on some real medicine.
As far as Charlotte could tell at this distance though, Sayen seemed healthy enough, though if she couldn't scrounge up any business the doctor thought it might be worthwhile to pull her aside and see how things were going. In the meantime though, she could respect the fact that the lady needed to work, and the last thing she wanted to to scare off any potential customers. But then again, there did seem to be an awful lot of strangers in the bar today. Maybe they would just think she was a concerned citizen, rather than a doctor speaking in hushed tones to a woman of ill repute.
Speaking of newcomers, when her coffee came the doctor was rather pleased to see someone else sitting at the bar and at least attempting to maintain some level of sobriety. The man on the next stool over had opted for tea instead of liquor, which in her opinion was the mark of a true gentleman. She couldn't help but notice though a rather nasty burn on the dark-haired fellow's hand. "My, that looks painful," Charlotte murmured to the man, taking her spectacles out of her bag again. "Did that just happen? I have a bit of salve here, do you mind if I take a look?"
Giving a tilt of her head she poured the man in the suit a drink and grabbed the other's glass. "Coming right up sugah..." Heading back to the bar she had a short conversation with the bartender and soon the drink was ready. Grabbing it, her attention was pulled to the woman entering, the doctor.
Sayen respected the woman, medicine was a noble profession. Giving a nod of acknowledgment to the woman, Sayen sauntered back to the men playing poker. "One sarsaparilla." Placing it on the table in front of Frank another howl rang out. Closing her eyes, unaware that her head was tilting as she listened.
The howls belonged to wolves but not normal ones, she had heard these howls her entire life. "Skin walkers...." The quiet word she hadn't realized left her mouth as she straightened. Something was wrong, the howls sounded off like the creature was in pain and it was calling to her.
"'Scuse me gents..." Then with a twirl, Sayen walked from the saloon. The minute the doors swung shut behind her, Sayen kicked off the pinching high heels and took off running. If it really was a skin walker that was in trouble, that had ventured this close to a white man's settlement, it must really be hurting.
Running over the dusty ground, her soft footfalls kicking up dirt, Sayen smiled truly. She truly enjoyed running free, giving an excited yell she tore at the clasps binding her hair. Throwing the trinkets down, she continued to run and she only slowed down to listen.
Panting with the exertion, she looked around trying to orient herself when a low growl caught her attention. Lifting her hands she began to coo softly in her native tongue. "Ssssh sacred one.... let me help you...." The dulcet tones of her whispers seemed to soothe the beast and it stopped growling fiercely. Sayen then began to hum a lullaby often sung to the babes in her tribe while she checked over the bipedal wolf.
The creature shut it eyes as it listened while her hands gently shifted through its thick fur. It's ears swiveled to listen to her as she moved around it until she touched the tender spot and it growled. "Don't growl at me.... I'm not the one who stabbed you. This will sting." Then without further warning she grabbed and yanked a thin piece of metal from the creature who yowled with pain.
Growling with ears laid back, it rounded on her and Sayen glared coldly back. "I warned you you know. Now retract your claws or I'll shove it back in your wound..." Backing up slightly, it seemed confused before she shooed it off as she studied the now apparent blade.
((Sorry it's so long, I just kinda went with it. If it's not cool please let me know and I'll edit.))
Sayen respected the woman, medicine was a noble profession. Giving a nod of acknowledgment to the woman, Sayen sauntered back to the men playing poker. "One sarsaparilla." Placing it on the table in front of Frank another howl rang out. Closing her eyes, unaware that her head was tilting as she listened.
The howls belonged to wolves but not normal ones, she had heard these howls her entire life. "Skin walkers...." The quiet word she hadn't realized left her mouth as she straightened. Something was wrong, the howls sounded off like the creature was in pain and it was calling to her.
"'Scuse me gents..." Then with a twirl, Sayen walked from the saloon. The minute the doors swung shut behind her, Sayen kicked off the pinching high heels and took off running. If it really was a skin walker that was in trouble, that had ventured this close to a white man's settlement, it must really be hurting.
Running over the dusty ground, her soft footfalls kicking up dirt, Sayen smiled truly. She truly enjoyed running free, giving an excited yell she tore at the clasps binding her hair. Throwing the trinkets down, she continued to run and she only slowed down to listen.
Panting with the exertion, she looked around trying to orient herself when a low growl caught her attention. Lifting her hands she began to coo softly in her native tongue. "Ssssh sacred one.... let me help you...." The dulcet tones of her whispers seemed to soothe the beast and it stopped growling fiercely. Sayen then began to hum a lullaby often sung to the babes in her tribe while she checked over the bipedal wolf.
The creature shut it eyes as it listened while her hands gently shifted through its thick fur. It's ears swiveled to listen to her as she moved around it until she touched the tender spot and it growled. "Don't growl at me.... I'm not the one who stabbed you. This will sting." Then without further warning she grabbed and yanked a thin piece of metal from the creature who yowled with pain.
Growling with ears laid back, it rounded on her and Sayen glared coldly back. "I warned you you know. Now retract your claws or I'll shove it back in your wound..." Backing up slightly, it seemed confused before she shooed it off as she studied the now apparent blade.
((Sorry it's so long, I just kinda went with it. If it's not cool please let me know and I'll edit.))
Chessy glanced at the door, when the doctor stepped in. He didn´t know, who she was or what her occupation was. He was new in town after all. Never been to Saltypeak. From what he could tell she had a serious occupation. Something that took up a lot of her time judging by the dark circles under her eyes. She barely got any sleep and she didn´t seem to care much for her appearance. He faced the table again, looking into his tea. He took the last sip and emptied the cup, asking for another while doing so.
He didn´t pay attention to what the pretty woman in green was doing, much less the pokertable. But he did feel his hairs stand on the back of his neck. His instincts were pretty good and his senses stronger than the average person, though that didn´t show on him. He could feel eyes on the back of his head from the Agent Faulkner staring at him. Did he suspect anything? Or did he merely keep an eye on Chessy, because he was an odd stranger? He didn´t look at Charlotte, but he was listening. Medicine? Since when did alcohol count as medicine? Save if it was medicine for a broken heart, to drown the sorrows. But Chessy never drank alcohol or at least hadn´t been seen to do so.
Chessy was quickly pulled out of his thoughts, where he often wandered, when the doctor-woman spoke to him and gestured to his injured hand. He looked at his hand and back at her, sorting of pulling it to himself, unsure whether he could trust her or not. He looked her in the eyes as if he could see her intentions. Looked for the smallest signs that she was dangerous and unworthy of his trust. He slowly held out his hand for her to look at. "Pain is temporary," he muttered.
He didn´t pay attention to what the pretty woman in green was doing, much less the pokertable. But he did feel his hairs stand on the back of his neck. His instincts were pretty good and his senses stronger than the average person, though that didn´t show on him. He could feel eyes on the back of his head from the Agent Faulkner staring at him. Did he suspect anything? Or did he merely keep an eye on Chessy, because he was an odd stranger? He didn´t look at Charlotte, but he was listening. Medicine? Since when did alcohol count as medicine? Save if it was medicine for a broken heart, to drown the sorrows. But Chessy never drank alcohol or at least hadn´t been seen to do so.
Chessy was quickly pulled out of his thoughts, where he often wandered, when the doctor-woman spoke to him and gestured to his injured hand. He looked at his hand and back at her, sorting of pulling it to himself, unsure whether he could trust her or not. He looked her in the eyes as if he could see her intentions. Looked for the smallest signs that she was dangerous and unworthy of his trust. He slowly held out his hand for her to look at. "Pain is temporary," he muttered.
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