Steam and Steel Options

[Rohirrim]

Jonah stepped into the morning sun from the darkness of the tailor shop. He carefully situated his goggles on his face, hitched up the rifle strap on his shoulder, and went to find some lunch. This was the slaughterhouse district, so a broiled beefsteak or kidney and some drink wouldn't be too hard to find. Spotting the double doors of a saloon, he stepped in and grabbed a seat at the bar. He held up his flask and dropped a penny on the bar. "Refill, please. Whiskey." The bartender silently obliged him, and Jonah took a swig. He winced. Rye, always rye, he thought, what I wouldn't do for some good old bourbon. He let the whiskey coat his mouth then put down a nickel. "Two kidney chops, my good man." The barkeep went into the kitchen to place Jonah's order. Satisfied it was being taken care of, Jonah looked around. The synth-piano played a gay tune, and some women of questionable virtue, as well as several other patrons, were around. He hiked up his bowler hat, letting his bangs fall down, and removed his goggles, putting them on his forehead. He cast a glance at the bounty board hanging at the end of the bar. Maybe, he thought, maybe.

This post has been edited by Rohirrim: Oct 26 2013, 05:33 PM

[Colonel Mustard]

There was a certain charm about the saloon, Lucius couldn't help but reflect. True, it was dingy, run-down and smelt slightly, but it was also a place where he was having a 'lucky streak' in the current poker game and getting away with it, and it left him greatly enamoured towards the place.

"Your move, Duke," the Texan he was sitting opposite him said, grinning as he laid down a pair of Kings. The third man at the table, unmistakably Apache even in the gear of a working cowboy, shook his head.

"No way you're beating that, Englishman," he pronounced grimly.

"Oh, I don't know about that, old boy," Lucius said, laying down his cards on the table. "The four fine fellows I've got on my side might just have a thing or two to say about that, don't you know."

"Four aces?" the Texan said, looking at the cards. "God damn!"

He sighed as he slid the small pile of notes and coins to Lucius.

"Well, Duke," he said. Lucius managed to avoid the glower at the nickname the Texan had chosen for him. "Guess you won that round fair and square. You up for another?"

"Perhaps a bit later, old sport," Lucius said, the words of his adopted accent rolling off the tongue with practised ease. "Right now one feels the need to wet the old whistle, wot."

The Texan gave him a look that seemed to threaten violence, but decided that Lucius, or 'Algernon' as the New Yorker had introduced himself, wasn't worth the effort.

"Yeah, fine," he said, as Lucius stood and collected his winnings. As Lucius left the table, he heard the Texan remark; "And that, my Apache friend, is why you should never underestimate an Englishman."

Lucius took a spot on the bar next to a man who had just placed his bowler hat down, a long rifle sticking up from his back like an antenna.

"Excuse me, barkeep, I don't suppose it would be possible for me to get a gin and tonic, would it? Oh, it would? Jolly good, one of those please."

The drink arrived a few moments later, and Lucius took a sip. He noticed the way Bowler Hat was eyeing up the bounty board on the bar, and for the sake of striking up conversation asked; "You a bounty hunter, by chance? Exciting looking work, that. Never been my cup of tea, mind, but certainly seems thrilling."