@deadlockcr -- sc.
there’s no mistaking that woman -- hair as smooth and soft as freshly fallen snow, with eyes and lips a sharp red contrast, like blood spatter against a snowbank. a bad omen, surely; a sign of disaster to come. calamity.
“well now, what are the odds of that? us meetin’ again in a place like this.” already he’s got a cigar between his lips and a lighter steadily igniting the end. he’d never say no to a little nicotine, but one could always use a little extra when having to deal with ashe.
“hope you didn’t come lookin’ to pick a fight, sugar. i’m unarmed.” he pats the space on his hip where his revolver should be sitting. “and you wouldn’t kick ol’ jesse while he’s down, would you? so maybe we can just chat. real civilized-like, if you remember how.”
