<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/0c/Doomtown2-Recovered2.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Walter Sinnett (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=200832.msg9812108#msg9812108)<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 13th, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Sittin' in the Gates Ranch<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Letty, Open.<br/><hr/><hr/><strong>"Well love, you're the expert on a horse's backside. I ain't ever gone round the back to smell one. Bastard's more likely to kick me than anything."</strong><br/><br/>Walter would have answered more questions but, put simply, he was a simple man with simple needs. Yes, the old burnt tosser back at Sweetrock might have given him a bloody complex mission that involved manipulating, attacking, pissing off and eventually dominating damn near every faction in the sodding place but that did not change what Walter was and what he wanted from life. He wanted some booze and some booty. What simple man like Walter was going to be able to concentrate on bloody anything once Letty had not just put the image of her bathing naked in a stream into his head, but followed it up (and "up" was likely to be the operative word here) with the vision of her bouncing around with her sister (pretty much a twin in Walter's imagination, although perhaps actually a bit more busty and less likely to stab him with a pitchfork) and having a splash fight. Walter's already faced a dilemma when it came to his plans for this evening... hire one whore and get her to pretend to be Letty or hire two whores, scare everyone out of the bathhouse and get the pair to pretend to be the Letty sisters while he watched... and eventually joined in. Choices, choices.<br/><br/>It was probably a good idea that Letty asked Walter not to go into detail. The pitchfork was still in the barn after all.<br/><strong><br/>"Oi... don't be rude about London. Fine bloody city it is. Finest bloody city."</strong><br/><br/>Unlike his previous interventions there was no harshness to Walter's words this time. It barely even qualified as a gentle rebuke. Perhaps the alcohol, soft straw and even the bloody noises of the farm animals were having a calming effect on Walter. Perhaps it was hard for his blood to fill with fire when the blood was making a southerly journey to a rather different part of his body.<br/><br/><strong>"You ain't lived until you've seen the Thames glistening on a cold winter's morning. Ain't lived till you've escaped the bloody cold that evening by headin' into the Nag's 'ead, havin' a couple of pints of real bear and a good hunk of roast meat before a roaring fire. Ain't lived till you've seen all the polite gentlemen and women walkin' up and down Mayfair in their finest. Ain't lived till you've heard Big Ben chime out the time... I watched that get bloody built you know. Ain't lived till you've walked past the Tower and ain't lived till you've seen a boxin' match down at the Fancy. Till you've had some of Miss Clancy's nuts or tried one of Mr Blunt's pies."</strong><br/><br/>Walter didn't comment on whether Letty would have survived. He especially didn't comment on the fact that he thought she would but that she'd likely survive by bein' a whore and gettin' fucked a dozen times a day. He certainly didn't comment on the fact that if she did, he'd have been one of her most frequent customers.<br/><br/><strong>"Stabbed a couple of buggers didn't I? One was a rich man's son who owed my boss money and got a bit chatty. Gave him a bit of a slap to knock some sense into his thick head and he drew a bloody blade. Had to stab him then. So that got the coppers involved and I had to stab one of 'em to stop 'im nickin' me and stretchin' my neck. Couldn't sit around London after that... they don't give a toss if you end up killin' a few worthless buggers like me but you snarf a rich kid and a copper and you get half of bloody Scotland Yard after you."</strong>