<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/2/20/Christian_Bale_Cowboy_3.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Christian 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>Deacon Sloane, Open<br/><hr/><br/><br/>While he had shown the businessman a modicum of politeness by tipping his hat, Christian never released that glare, it was almost as if he did not even blink. He took his time answering Sloane’s questions, for a number of reasons. The first of which, was that he actually did not know any more about the Man In Black than what he had already stated. It was embarrassing, but all he knew was that the man had to be getting on in age, always wore black, and had a gaunt look to him. Despite hunting him for almost twelve years, he had no more information than that. The other reason he remained quiet for so long was because Christian liked to chew on his words before he spat them out. People tended to die when he was impulsive, so to keep things peaceful, he thought it best to think about his response before speaking.<br/><br/>“Aint no secret, just common sense. Black Jack is a bit of a celebrity ‘round these parts. Stories and rumors about’m aint hard ta come by,” Christian began, pausing there to take a swig of his beer, “It aint his way to just gun a man down in his office, be it the Sheriff or not. The Sheriff went down easy, too. If I was the law ‘round these parts, I know I’d not so much as shit without a loaded iron in my hand. Sheriff knew his killer, might’ve even been friendly with’m, that’s a certainty. What I hear, there was two blasts from that shotgun; fifty dollars says those blasts were point-blank, too.”<br/><br/>Christian nodded at this own thought, seeming to confirm to himself his own rationality of the situation. It made sense, of course, that the Man In Black would come in, rile up a whole heap of trouble and leave shortly after. That was, unless the Man had found good, steady work here. That was the thing Christian found so damn frustrating was He kept running around, never staying put for long, which meant Christian could not stay put for long. Here, though, it looked like he had finally caught up to the bastard.<br/><br/>“Nice place you got here,” Christian said, his voice remained gravelly and irritated though it was hard to tell if he actually was irritated or it was just the way he always sounded, “How long’t take ya ta situate yerself up like this?” Christian was entirely unsubtle on his changing of the subject, but that ever-present glare warned against trying to go backwards in conversation.<br/>