<br/><hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/6f/Mayor_cochran.png)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Mayor Cochran<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Sweetrock<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 11th, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Outside Babel's Tower<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Open, Matthew Ford<br/><hr/>To anyone unfamiliar with the politics of Gomorra, the notion of the Mayor of a small town being included in major decisions was a common sense one.  Those strangers were quickly acquainted with the truth - that the Mayor was all too often a sock puppet for Sweetrock - and Sweetrock did not control the town so thoroughly as they might like.  But merely being addressed as 'sir' was enough to make the man puff up like a peacock, and he straightened from where he leaned against the wall outside.  In the rush of miners and citizens, the tables had been quickly and quite thoroughly occupied, to the distress of the city's Mayor, who had hoped to recline at one of the booths and lord over the establishment like a proper aristocrat.  So, instead, he found himself on the deck sipping bourbon and giving familiar nods to every strange face that sauntered within, until a dusty new arrival had poked papers in his face and seemed eager to discuss some manner of official business.  He licked his lips, suppressing a sigh, but tilted his head at the mention of J.P. Coleman.  "I'm afraid I was not often privy to J.P. Coleman's business," he informed.  "He ran an efficient Sheriff's office before his passing, and it was not necessary to intrude on his affairs.  Once you've found the right man for the job, no reason to go managing the minutia, I always say," he smiled.<br/><br/>The brief memory of Sheriff Coleman's six shooter widening his left nostril, and the promise of what would happen if he continued to try to manage the minutia, tickled his memory, so he drowned it in a gulp of bourbon and offered a pearly smile.<br/><br/>"But I am afraid the man you are looking for to... seek employment would be one Nash Bilton.  I expect he'll be along expeditiously - I don't know him as a man to take a pass on discounted entertainment," he mused.  He gave a smile as a soiled-dove turned waitress freshened his bourbon.  "Ah, thank you my dear - " his hand fell familiarly on the curve of her ass, and she gave a wiggle, a giggle, and turned away, after whispering something apologetic in his ear.<br/><br/>He smiled up at Ford.  "Liboria, there, is Wallachian.  I'm not entirely sure where that is, but based upon her rather sterling example of feminine liberation, I think the country should be renamed 'Will'-lachian.  Precisely because she<em>will</em>do anything."  He laughed, and clapped Matthew on his shoulder.  "I highly recommend her.  Go, you should knock of the dust of the road off your boots, and she is<em>exemplary</em>for such a purpose."  He gave a friendly gesture within and began to draw Matthew inside.