<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v622/Jagwaar/Sloane_zps29c9cdf3.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Deacon Sloane<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Unknown<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 3, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Casino Morongo<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Christian, Open<br/><hr/><br/>Sloane listened to Specter go on about Agatha and then make his point about what his business was for the second time with a deadpan expression, thinking the boy wasn’t half as smart as he was an expert gunslinger. If it wasn’t for the fact that a reputation like that had to be earned, he might even have wondered if Specter was all he claimed to be.  The rhetorical question about his skill, followed just as quickly by a boastful answer nearly had Sloane rolling his eyes.<br/><br/>“Well, thank you kindly for setting me straight on what brought you to our fine city Mr. Specter, but the truth of the matter is, I didn’t<em>ask </em>you what your business was in town,” he drawled.  “For in point of fact you had indeed already<em>told </em>me, and I make it a point to listen to my customers.  What I<em>did </em>ask you is whether or not you might be looking for a room or other entertainment during your stay, while you do your best to locate this mysterious man in black that you don’t know anything else about beyond his weight and the color of his clothes.  But, if you’re looking for work, I often find myself in need of a good gunhand, regardless of whether he’s named his gun or not.  So, maybe we can do a little business.”<br/><br/>Thankfully, Cuthbert chose that moment to rouse himself from his carefully composed nap to address the gunslinger himself, engaging in a little verbal posturing with Specter over a favorite pastime – cards.  Sloane watched the back and forth with a casual interest.  After all, a game between the two of them here meant the house would get a cut, and that was never bad.  His attention became far keener the moment Agatha’s name came up again, this time from Specter, followed quickly a warning for Cuthbert that the gunslinger growled out along with turning a mean glare on one of the Morongo’s best customers.<br/><br/>“I’d appreciate it if you’d refrain from threatening my patrons, Mr. Specter,” Sloane said, in a tone that suggested he’d brook no argument as he poured himself a third drink.  "I take blood letting on my premises that I ain't approved as a personal fucking affront.  It puts me off my whiskey."  He then turned his attention to Cuthbert.  “Don’t you worry, Matthew.  The night shift’ll be out in Sweetrock any time now, and the miners’ll be in with plenty of ghostrock burning a hole in their pockets and their cocks at the ready.”  He then glanced between the two men.<br/><br/>“But if you’re both dead set on arguing over a woman that would rather spend time tinkering in her workshop than anything else,” Sloane continued, expression hardening slightly as he issued a warning of his own, “Then take it outside.” Lifting his glass in an impromptu toast, he tossed the shot back and set the glass back down on the bar.<br/>