<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, Matthew, Ginny, Open<br/><hr/><br/><br/><br/><em> “Ya know, mister, men say I draw, fire, and skin my iron faster’n other men pull a trigger,” </em><br/><br/><em>Blah, blah, blah,</em>Sloane mused, as he calmly poured himself yet another shot of whiskey.  “Ya sure do like the sound of yer own voice singing yer praises, Specter.  Makes a man wonder if ya penned all those cheap assed novels your own self,” he said, slowly savoring the warmth of the whiskey as it burned a path down his throat.<br/><br/><em> “takes a serious fool, or a man of steel to talk that way ta me.” Christian harrumphed, which turned into an ice-cold chuckle. “My apologies, Mr. Sloane,” Christian said, bowing his head just the slightest degree, a deference of respect to the businessman, “No disrespect intended.”</em><br/><br/>“None taken.  Now, would you like a blowjob while you’re playing cards, Specter?” Sloane asked, turning to face the table as he switched gears.  “First one’s on the house.  And don’t worry, I ain’t offering personally.”<br/><br/><em>“Such words, Mistuh Sloane!  Whatever will the children think?  And my virgin ears!  Ah'll have'tah go to confessional later today!"</em><br/><br/>Sloane glanced around the casino with an upturned eyebrow.  “First of all, I don’t see any children here and second, I highly doubt that anything I might say would send you running for a preacher.”  A lawyer now, that was another matter.<br/><br/><em>“I...” </em><br/><br/>Well,<em>finally</em>.  It<em>was </em>possible for Specter to stop talking about himself, making sure that everyone knew just how goddamn good a gunslinger he was, rather than letting his reputation speak for itself.  Sloane had thought it was nigh on impossible. And with his friendly offer hanging in the air between them, his eyebrow arched higher in anticipatory expectation as he waited for Specter to regain the use of his tongue.<br/><br/><em>“No thank ya, Mr. Sloane. I think I’ve got all the company I’ll be needin’ right here.”</em><br/><br/>Sloane shrugged.  “Your choice.  I won’t make the offer again.  New customer special, only,” he explained, setting his glass down on the bar as he began to move around it, only to have Ginny try to lure him into staying with one of his favorite cigars.<br/><br/><em>"Now, wouldn't yuh like tah have one?  Ah know thar yur favorite,"  Her tone was wheeling, but she kept it very sweet and very innocent.</em><br/><br/>Turning his gaze on Ginny, Sloane’s tongue worried at the back of his teeth as he considered her offer, expression vaguely predatory; recognizing it as a manipulative attempt to wrap him around her finger by pretending to defer to him.  Walking towards her, he closed the distance between the bar and her table on the pretense of accepting her offer, only when he reached out to take the cigar from her fingers, Sloane’s hand closed around hers as he stepped close to whisper in Ginny’s ear, words couched in a low, sultry whisper, for her hearing alone.<br/><br/>“You know better than to play these kinds of games.  Neither one of us is that much of a fool,” Sloane warned, moustache brushing against her ear.  “Now, if you<em>truly </em>want to tempt me, then next time offer me a cigar that’s been sweetened between your thighs.”<br/><br/>Eyes glued to Ginny’s face, Sloane pulled back with a sly grin, slowly withdrawing his hand from hers, leaving the cigar in place as he stepped away from the table.  “I’ll leave you both in Miss Whately’s more than capable hands,” he said to Matthew and Christian, before heading towards the staircase that led to the upper floor.  On the way, Sloane stopped to speak a few of the morning staff, giving his instructions for the hours he’d be sleeping before ascending to the second level, where Yanko was waiting.<br/><br/>“Who is dat?” the big man asked him, jerking his chin down at Specter.  Sloane glanced in the man’s direction.<br/><br/>“Just a man too caught up in his own myth for his own good,” he replied.  “Best keep an eye on him.  Wake me a couple hours.”<br/><br/>“You got it, boss.”<br/><br/>With that, Sloane slipped off to finally get some much needed shut eye.<br/>