Similar to the man who rushed out of the old barber shop, Grace’s ears had caught the distinct uproar of the shotgun even from the brothel she was currently in. One didn’t need to be a gun expert to guess what type of weapon could create such a loud bang. Suddenly, the simple act of having breakfast had turned into a much more concerning thing for the young newcomer. She didn’t know the town had a functional bank, and certainly had no way of knowing it was currently being robbed by some foul bandits. Regardless of its source, hearing a gunshot had always been an alarming event. Even more so for someone who wasn’t as used to a gun fight or the wildness of the west as some of the other residents of the town might be. Surely, finding somewhere to hide or taking cover would be the best option for the young brunette, who haven’t even held a gun before. Although being quite alarmed by the disturbing sound, Grace’s curiosity prevailed over her fear as the woman found herself stepping towards the entrance of the brothel. After all, to the best of her knowledge, it could have been very well a trigger happy cowboy or a ladette practicing their marksmanship.<br/><br/>Through the windows that looked across the road, Grace didn’t need to step outside to catch a glimpse of a middle aged man exiting the opposite building and start running. He held a weapon, too long to be a pistol, too short to be a rifle. But again, he didn’t have the necessary number of hands to properly operate a long rifle. It was an inspiring sight to be honest. Grace’s curious eyes tracked the man as much as she could. Unlike her, he looked the part of a local. Someone who assumingly knew the town and cared about its people, enough to put himself in harm’s way at least. If the man indeed know his way around the mining town, and still found the noise an alarming incident as he seemed to be doing, Grace could tell this was no ordinary occurrence, but a threatening one. Still, the brunette woman stepped out of the Dusky Belle, not so bravely though. While her eyes kept tracking the whereabouts of the man, she found herself somewhere in the middle of the road. The building the veteran solider pointed his gun at, the bank, she comprehended that it was currently the place where she should stay away from. And simple logic told the woman that, if the one armed brave soldier was so willing to head towards the danger, she must take a route opposite to the one he took. Thus, Grace’s gaze located the old barber shop.<br/><br/>Since her dress could very well made her an easy target, the woman raised the ham of her attire and began to walk straight to the building. If anything, a barber could have had basic surgical knowledge. She didn’t know the shop had been abandoned and that its new habitants were intended to use the place as a newspaper. Striding as fast as a former lady could, Grace entered the old barber shop. Given the circumstances, the woman hoped its owner, or owners, would excuse her unannounced entry and the hurried way she rushed into the dilapidated structure. The woman was no runner and this little sprint of hers had left her panting. “E-excuse me.” Once inside, Grace apologized to the first face she came across in the old shop, still trying to catch her breath. At the first glance, she could count two(?) people within the walls. A young cowboy, and a redheaded woman, who could be easily mistaken for a man, not because of her rather charming visage, but her imposing, tall physique. “Oh…” It wasn’t the tall redhead that confused Grace though, but all the heavy equipment she saw in the place, which didn’t look to be something a barber would use. One device particularly looked more like a torture device. This kind of complex, heavy equipment had always fascinated Grace, instantly filling her expressive eyes in admiration and curiosity.