<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://[url=http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/a2/9439_1213355092507_500_196.jpg]http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/a2/9439_1213355092507_500_196.jpg[/url])</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Mathew Cuthbert<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>None yet.<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 3rd, 1376<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Casino Morongo<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Deacon Sloane, Chrstian Specter, Agatha Dunwich, Anyone.<br/><hr/><br/>You could tell Mathew Cuthbert was napping because his hands were still.  The young blond slouched back in chair by the bar, a cigar smoking slowly in his teeth, with his white hat tipped down to shade his eyes.<br/><br/>When the conversation between the casino’s owner and the notorious gunslinger began, the young man’s eyes half opened and he took a slow look at the bounty hunter.  “Christian Specter, eh?” he inquired, straightening up a little and tipping back his hat.  “I figured you must be a lucky fella when I bet myself I could join Miss Dunwich for breakfast and found you already there.  Dollars ain’t half the treasure that a good woman’s cookin’ is, but maybe sometime we can square off across the card table and see how long your luck holds?  Whata’ya say,” the young man pulled some cards from his breast pocket and shot them from one hand to the next.  “One of us’ll loose some money, but from what I hear most people who square off with you loose some blood, so I like this game better.”<br/><br/>The town crier had roused Mat at the crack of dawn, an ungodly hour he’d hoped to never see again now that he’d left the ranch behind him.  He’d dressed quickly and done without a bite here in hopes of bidding Miss Agatha a good morning, maybe catching her half dressed in her workshop to talk about her latest infernal contraption or tease her with stories about the girls in the saloon halls.  Most men would have serious pride issues, knowing that  one of their favorite girls would rather be with one of his other girls than with him.  But what the hell? She was pretty and intelligent, interesting and sweet.  When the mood took her she was just as good in bed as any other girl, and he certainly would rather have a friend with privileges than another lovestruck girl trying to settle him down.<br/><br/>Besides, some day he was going to get a chance to watch her with antoher girl.<br/><br/>So, he’d missed a shot at breakfast, and headed straight to the town hall.  He kept his quite and listened to the somber news.  It angered him enough to keep him awake, knowing what that deputy girl was going through, what some of this towns other fine girls might be going through, and he almost stepped up to volunteer for a posse before his common sense got the better of him.  Mat wasn’t yeller, but he weren’t no fool either.  Once people found out you were dangerous, really dangerous, like this Christian fellow, you became a legend, and everyone wanted to put a bullet in a legend.<br/><br/>He turned to his host and tipped his hat, Good mornin’, Mr. Sloan.  When do you recon buisness’ll pick up again?  Folks can get a might nervous in times like these, and nervous folks can really use a good time, if you catch ‘em at the right moment.”<br/><br/>What he left unsaid was that, when nervous folks finally gave into their impulse to have a good time, money could flow through their fingers like water.<br/>