<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/2/20/Christian_Bale_Cowboy_3.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Christian "Spooky" Specter<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Unknown<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 3rd, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Casino Morongo<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Matthew Cuthbert, Ginny Whateley, Deacon Sloane, Open<br/><hr/><br/>The silence that followed Ginny and Sloane's intervention in what they saw as a brewing altercation between Christian and Mathew was filled with tension so thick, a butter knife could have taken pieces out of it. Christian's eyes dead locked with Sloane's. Sloane may have stared down death, and gotten the Pale Rider to blink, he was having likely an equal match against Christian. Christian thought back to a moment in time back at a little town called Deer Creek, and his eyes flashed with amusement for a moment. Then the infamous killer, purported fastest-draw in the Maze tipped his hat to the businessman again. It was unclear whether Spooky was submitting to the dreaded merchant, or if he just did not feel like killing this morning. The collective sigh of the few other patrons of the Casino at this hour bespoke they all were relieved to see it regardless.<br/><br/>"Words aint always my friends, mister, as it can be clear ta see," Christian gave Sloane the barest of smiles, his expression of bared teeth constantly crossing the line between surly temperament, and cornered wolf, "But, I don't threaten men, I gun'm down. Tell ya what, you need a man like me, let me know. Fer the right price, I'll happily bear Reaper on whoever ya like."<br/><br/>Then Ginny spoke, and Christian slightly inclined his head her way. He let her speak on her game, her dislike of cheats, and her apparent adoration or interest in his activities. He had always heard some idiotic muckraker had written him into one of those damn dime novels, but Spooky never bothered to investigate it as he did not see the point. The point, apparently, was it got you fans. Fans of the tall, blonde, and gorgeous variety. Christian cursed himself a fool, and moseyed on over to Ginny's table, and flopped into a seat.<br/><br/>"Now, ma'am, I gotta warn ya," Christian spoke while glancing between her eyes and her waist, checking for weapons, he was a fool for blondes, but even that had a limit, "my skill with cards is only slightly better than my skill with words, so I'm not likely to be much of a challenge to a shark such as yerself." His words were not hollow flattery, at least that much was apparent on the gunman's face, despite the lack of any real hint at emotion. Joy, anger, lust, nor sullenness showed on the man's face, just that cold, hard stare that put ice in most men's stomach. That stare made it very clear where he had garnered that notorious nickname of his. Spooky was one nerve wracking son of a bitch, even when he was not trying to be.<br/><br/>Without turning his way, he used a hand to motion for Mathew to make his way over. A subtle, albeit halfhearted, attempt to bring the uncomfortable, for others anyway, tension down a few notches. Then his voice carried over to Sloane, "You too, Mr. Businessman, I'd like ta get ta know a man that'd stare me down, e'en though he knows who I am, and what I do. Gotta respect a man who knows Death when'e sees'm, and then don't back down."