Wild, Wild, Wild West (Private)

okay rude but also fair

It was a hot day. Well, hotter than it usually was. That meant trouble for Winston. Hot weather meant hot tempers from the townfolk. And it also meant creatures would be on the prowl for shade. Such as the tavern, or some unlucky fellow's home. It amused him somewhat that a bunch of super-powered humans relied upon him to defend the town. Up until the point he actually had to fight something, at least. He swore they were just lazy and didn't want to deal with the issue themselves.

He walked down the main road in town, his boots kicking up dust. The golden star on his chest glinted in the bright sunlight as he pulled his hat down, wincing at the sound of a shout.

"Cum quick, Winston!" a voice shouted, "Thay're's sumone walkin' to'ards the town!"

(Goodnight!)

((how dare you make me do things. also give cat pats))

"It's hot as balls out here, and that's comin' from a pyromancer." Glory muttered to herself, covering her eyes with one hand as she trudged through dirt and more dirt, in a shitty attempt to give her eyes a reprieve from the glaring sun. Obviously, it wasn't working. What it did do, though, was make it easier to spot the town a short distance away, and Glory almost groaned in relief. Almost. Finally. Let's hope they've got a watering hole or something.

((Niiiiiiiiight))

He headed toward Old Man Johnson's house, who leaned against his cane from where he stood on his rickeety-ass porch. He was still strong as shit for his age, but it was his joints that were giving out.
"Wow," Winston said, "You weren't lying."
"Go fuck 'em up!"
"They haven't done nothin' wrong yet, Johnson," Winston said, rolling his eyes. "Let's just say hi."

Why the fuck did I decide living in and travelling through deserts was a great idea? It's the worst. There's dust in places nobody wants dust, including my poor guns. Glory huffed out a breath of air as she drew closer to the town, looking from a distance very much like a man in her waist coat and trousers, her headscarf pulled down over her face to shield her nose and mouth.

When she finally reached the town, she did groan in relief, grateful for the shade from the incessant desert sun. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she tugged one of her pistols from the twin holsters at her waist, checking for any serious dust damage.

"Howdy, ma'am," Winston said from across the street, tilting his hat in greeting.
He was a dashing man standing at 6'2", which was tall as shit back them. He had the subtle beginnings of a beard tickling the underside of his jaws since he hadn't shaved in a few days. His emerald eyes flashed with subtle intelligence as he hooked his thumbed into his belt and calmly walked over to where Glory stood.

Glory's attempt at a greeting as she lifted her head to look up at the man was in Spanish, and after getting about halfway through, she switched to English. "-an' after essentially runnin' myself outta town and trapsin' cross the fuckin' desert, I need a drink. Glory, nice t' meetcha." She removed her headscarf, wiping at the dust and sweat on her face with the back of the hand holding her pistol before re-situating the headscarf where it belonged, on her head and keeping her hair back from her features. Gold eyes scanned the sheriff up and down, then again, before she held out the hand with the pistol as though forgetting she was holding it.

He shook the barrel of the gun with an amused grin, showing surprisingly white teeth. Mouth hygiene at the time was….lacking, to say the least, so it was a refreshing sight.
"I'm Winston Shawson, Sheriff 'round these parts. Water, huh?"
He adjusted his hat as he glanced over at the tavern down the street.
"Well, Jessie's givin' out water fo' free since the well had been randomly filled by a passin' hydroster." He looked back over to Glory with a friendly grin. "I could take ya there, if you need it."
"Kill 'er!" Johnson shouted from his porch, shaking his wrinkled fist.

"Fuck yeah. My throat feels 'bout as dry as the desert we're in right now." She said, sticking her tongue out as far as she could as though showing it was dry. When the old man on the porch shouted, instead of looking worried, she barked out a rich and slightly musical laugh, turning to look at him with a hand on her hip and head tilted. "But sir, if ya killed me, then I couldn' regale anyone listenin' with tales o' the weird ass creatures I been comin' across on my travels! Plus, ya'd be outta this particular brand o' eye candy too!"

"The bran's sour!" Johnson retorted.
Their interaction produced a dashing grin on Winston's lips and he shook his head. "An interestin' individual, Geezer Johnson is. He prefers to gaze at members of his same sex. He also refuses to die, despite the world's best efforts, so he has been shoved under my care. Nice fellow when he takes a few shots, however. Very grandfatherly. Now, that water."
He gestured for Glory to follow as he began to walk down the dirt road at a leisurely pace.

"But the rest o' me ain't!" Glory called back easily, shooting Johnson a wink before following the sheriff. "Ah, old men who won' die. I know a few o' those, least yours ain' borin' as shit. Water! Right!" She caught up easily, tucking her gun away again and digging around the satchel on her shoulder for something. "Hydroster, that what y'all call the waterfolk?"

"That's what Jessie calls 'em," he said, scratching his arm absentmindedly. "I couldn't give two shits about what they're called. They're just normal people to me."

"Well that's one I haven't heard in a while. Or ever." She commented, pausing her searching to fan her face for a moment before continuing. Eventually, she pulled out a handkerchief, closing her satchel and letting it fall back down.

"The way I sees it," he said, taking notice of her actions without speaking on it, "If there's mo' of the supers 'round here than regular people, then I'm the weird one."
She isn't used to the heat.

In actuality, it was just too much heat for her. If he had actually gotten to shake her hand, even through the gloves, it was obvious that her skin was too warm. She ran too warm, all the time, making heat like this just that much more unbearable.

"You know, you probably are." She said with a light laugh, pulling her other pistol from it's holster and using the handkerchief to clean the barrel best she could without taking it apart. "So, a non supe, huh?"

"Mhm!" he said cheerfully, hoisting his pants up slightly. "Still the on'y fella out here willin' to deal wit the various deadly creepy crawlies that like to terrorize us out here in the Wil' West. I say fella 'cause we got Crazy Jane, who an' scared of nothin'. I'd name her deputy, but I'm 'fraid what she'd do if she had actual authority over people."

"Mm, better avoid lettin' her close t' any then." She joked lightly, squinting in the sun. "So, you're one of the only ones 'round here who ain't a supe, then?" She asked, looking up from her pistol to look around the town for a moment, before looking back down at the pearl handled revolver.

"Yep! Even ol' Geezer back there's one. It's me, Jessie, and Rik. Rik's only here 'cause he's so drunk he can' make it ten feet outta the bar."
They reached the tavern and Winston guided her in, smiling slightly.

Glory snorted, following the sheriff into the saloon. She reholstered her revolver, looking around curiously as her eyes sparked brightly in the dimmer lighting. A sudden change from the brightness outside, but welcome.

There were 3 people in the bar. The bartender, Jessie. She was a slightly little old woman with eyes that have seen more than they should've and a resting bitch face. The second was asleep int eh corner, a hat covering his face. THe last sat at the bar, hunched over a drink.
"Welcome to Jessie's Tavern!" Jessie drawled out. "Weenstin, what you doin' bringin' in mo' people?"
"Figured you needed somethin' to do, since you're jsut lallygaggin' around."
"Oh, hush, you."

Glory snorted as she watched the interaction, tucking the fabric of her headscarf behind her ears, revealing slightly pointed tips. Her eyes focused on the bartender as she tilted her head slightly, grinning. "I'll be good company, I promise ya that, ma'am."

"Oh, I'm sure ya are," Jessie grumbled, washing a dirty glass.
"Jess', don' be like that. They're people jus' like us. Jus' a lil' different."
"Too diff'rent, I tell ya!" Jessie exclaimed. "And I gotta serve them…"
Winston's eyes flashed dangerously. "You'll shut yer mouth if ya know what's good for ya, Jess'. Yer gonna be polite and serve the thirsy trav'ler just like you would me. Understand?"
Jessie scowled but nodded none-the-less. "Fine, fine."