<hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/f2/Beardycox.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Avery Burnam<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Law Dogs (1)<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 11th, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Evening (?)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Babel’s Tower<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Letty, noticing Spooky; Open<br/><hr/><br/>Charity was a messy business.  In the case of Babel's Tower that seemed quite literally true as patrons dug into their plates, leaving beards and shirtfronts stained with BBQ sauce, glasses and bottles turned greasy from the application of now sticky fingers.  The food was by no means bad but as a rule Avery was never that partial to fare that required the removal of one's jacket and rolled up shirtsleeves in order to avoid taking on permanent souvenirs.  So he ate carefully, listening while Hendricks offered up a solution to his own act of charity that wouldn't cost him a hotel room or end with a sudden tumble off one of the mesas' bridges.<br/><br/>As Corky pushed aside the whisky bottle, his own hand reached out to further guide it along the tabletop until well outside Letty's reach.  No need exacerbating matters.  It was enough that he was going to have to try to find this Hunter fellow's house with only a vague notion of its location, and that based on a conversation he'd had with Judge Warwick two weeks ago.  Carrying her there might have been the straw that broke the camel's back, or at least his own.<br/><br/>At one point, Avery glanced up from his plate and found her staring at him with such intentness that he could not help but stare back.  In that moment with her head slightly cocked, warm brown eyes locking onto his own while the tip of her tongue traced over her bottom lip, she did not look so drunk or so comical to him.  The face peering out from under those dark lashes was one he might have relished carrying to a hotel room or even across a bridge or two.  She smiled and he smiled back and…then she hiccupped loud enough to make him drop his fork and that smile faded just a little.  "Yes.  Well," he muttered, as she whispered something about being better with horses than people.  "Somehow I believe it…"<br/><br/>What followed next was rather louder than a hiccup.  Gunshots, several of them, which sent a number of men clambering for the windows to get an eyeful or groping at their own gun belts nervously.  Avery frowned but felt no need to reach into his coat for the comfort of his own revolver.  As far as he knew, he didn't have anyone wanting to kill him.  Oh, maybe a few grudge-holding tong boys back in Limehouse, but that was a long way from here and he liked to think they'd be smart enough to wait until inside the same building at least before shooting.  Instead he checked the pocket watch hanging from the fob on his vest.  Not even evening yet and already banging away at each other...<br/><br/>When the sheriff arrived to a pop off a few more rounds and administer some of that fabled frontier justice, he considered stepping outside to help but at once decided against it.  He was a 'Law Dog' as they called it only by necessity.  A cordial relation with the local law would make it easier for him to work in Gomorra.  Pinning on a badge again was not his ambition here though.  If they had need of him for anything, they would have to ask.  Breaking up street duels among the suicidal was hardly his forte anyways.<br/><br/>He did take in the shooter's appearance when the man entered the inn though, noting the respectful distance the other men granted him.  As yet no one had jumped up to pat his back or buy him a round, which Avery thought was curious given the way Americans seemed to love their gunplay.  A man who'd killed before, he decided.  A man who'd killed quite a lot maybe.  That didn't impress him exactly but it was certainly worth noting.<br/><br/>"Well," he announced, as the piano man started to hammer out a familiar barroom tune and drinks began to flow again, "having ate and having mostly certainly drank your fill, I should think, I don't suppose you'd be ready to call it an evening Miss Sanchez?  I would be honored to have the privilege of escorting you home…or rather Miss Hendrick's home, who was kind enough to invite you over for the night."  All said as politely as if he meant every last word of it, even offering Letty a hand as he stood up from the table.  "Shall we?"<br/>