Strolling along, relaxed and easy, the Cowboy makes his entrance.  Smiling politely and nodding to the security guard by the main door, Texas Jim waves to the concierge and hollers out to him in a way that makes the poor fellow wince.<br/><br/>"Evenin', Pete.  How's business?"<br/><br/><em>"Well enough.  I take it you're here for the special event?"</em>The concierge gives the Cowboy a tight smile.  Rumor had it that he was on the guest list...and the invitation which the man produces from his shirt pocket confirms that guess.<em>"So it seems.  Not going to try your luck on the roulette wheel again tonight, I take it."</em><br/><br/>"Oh, no.  Mrs. Bannerman may've raised a smart-alec, but she tolerated no fools," Texas Jim laughs quietly.  "Am I the first hombre to show for the round-up?"<br/><br/><em>"Not precisely.  Mister Jones,"</em>the concierge flags a passing security guard.<em>"Kindly escort this gentleman to the...special event.  Good luck...sir."</em><br/><br/>Digging in his pocket, Texas Jim produces a $50 chip and flips it to the man.<br/><br/>"Here ya go, Pete.  Lead on, Jonesy.  I'm hankerin' for a little card action."<br/><br/>With barely disguised annoyance, the guard escorts him to the elevator...and the young woman standing there.  The Cowboy doffs his hat as if by reflex and grins pleasantly.<br/><br/>"Good evenin', Missy!  Going up?"<br/><br/>The man joining her is possibly mid to late thirties, and definitely dressed with the Garth Brooks Clone motif in mind: black stetson, black jeans, black vest over white long-sleeved shirt, rattlesnake hide boots, belt buckle in the shape of Texas...laughing blue eyes, gingery brown hair touched with grey at the temples, and a mustache that flanks his mouth to join a neatly-trimmed goatee.<br/><br/>If not for the security guard hovering at his elbow, he might be just another guest...