<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/2/27/Maxbaine.png)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Max Baine<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Sweetrock (Vice President)<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 4th, 1876.<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Morning.<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Casino Morongo<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Open, Graham, Ginny<br/><hr/>Baine gave a small, tight smile to Virginia Whateley.  He wasn’t a man often seen outside the compound that Sweetrock did most of their business at – the first time he’d been seen in Gomorra, it was at an auction years ago – one where Sweetrock had taken full advantage of the greed of the people of Gomorra.  He’d not often been seen outside often since then; his skin had the pale palor of a man who worked to stay out of sunlight, and a full head of raven hair had been shaved down to the scalp since she’d last seen him.  His goatee, too, had picked up hints of salt and pepper, but more telling than anything on a man who survived eight years in fast country was the eyes.  Max Baine might never have set foot on a battlefield, but he had certainly seen the elephant a time or two in his day.  He’d put on twenty years in the eight he’d been in the Maze – and it showed in the eyes.<br/><br/>He shook his head at invitation – or at least, Ginny’s lack of one.  He could certainly invite himself to the game, it being his establishment, but he didn’t seem to much care for the cards.<br/><br/><strong>”I gamble enough, Miss Whateley.”</strong><br/><br/>He smiled wanly at the congratulations, looking over one of the most-sought after pieces of real estate in Gomorra, now all but empty.  The trio of soiled doves seemed to be regarding him with thinly-veiled distrust – Ginny’d heard a rumor that Baine had cut open a girl at the Perch, but everyone at Sweetrock had a whole passel of rumors about them at any time; the miners took great joy in inventing stories about the various shortcomings of the businessmen who had ‘ruined their lives.’  For a moment he seemed tempted to offer Graham a considerably more acid reply – but he swallowed it and offered a nod, instead.<br/><br/><strong>”Thank you.”</strong>His eyes slid down to the six-shooter at Graham’s side and then back towards the door the blond gunslinger had disappeared out of.  He looked thoughtfully at the doorway.  He was still listening, though, curious if the newcomer was going to take part at the tables or follow the miners leaving the Casino in a hurry.<br/><br/>His head inclined slightly at the mention of pocketbook problems, and the wan smile widened slightly.<strong>”If you can handle that sixer, and you’re looking for work – “</strong>He gestured around.<br/><br/><strong>”Room, board, and wage for someone willing to handle any problems that might arise out of the… recent transition.  Make it through the day and… we can figure out a wage this evening.”</strong><br/>