<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/de/Nash_bilton.png)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Sheriff Nash Bilton<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Law Dogs (5) Sheriff<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 11th, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Sheriff's Office/Gomorra Jail<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Ginny, Open<br/><hr/>Townsend paled slightly as Ginny entered the station, cutting off in mid-sentence as the door opened and Ginny entered.  Bilton was engaged in some exchange of crude depictions of a night in Gomorra’s brothels, and to have Townsend suddenly go quiet made his eyebrows shoot up before his gaze turned lazily to Ginny as she strode in.  He leaned back in his chair, the new gatling pistol slung into his hip, and he gave a forced smile as Ginny addressed him.<br/><br/>His eyes slid over the hints of curves visible beneath the snow white dress.  Ginny all dressed up was a rare sight - and usually a sure sign she wanted something.  Plenty of miners sat down at the tables with her out of some deluded rumor that cleaning out Ginny Whateley meant a night with the rich belle, on top of the kind of stake that could jump-start a man’s life in Gomorra.  Bilton was bemused by that - mostly because he’d started the rumor.  He couldn’t really say what prompted him - though the haughty dilettante with a miner’s dirty cock shoved up her tail and squeaking her protests had been prompt enough.<br/><br/>He raised an eyebrow at the bottle of fine whiskey - it looked like one of those overpriced sort of bottles that Sloane had kept behind the bar.  He picked it up and gave it a cursory examination, setting it into a drawer.  Bilton was a number of things, but he was mindful enough of his job that he didn’t drink on it.  He didn’t begrudge those who did; and it wasn’t any noble sentiment on his part about job professionalism.  Rather, it was the certainty that drunk Law Dogs frequently became dead Law Dogs.  He gave Ginny another forced smile, keeping silent as he began to paw through the dress and the shift, squeezing the fabric and bunching it under his fingers, seeking out anything not quite so obviously displayed.  He went to the blanket next, and then his fingers shifted through the candies, sifting through it before picking up the book, thumbing through the contents in search of hidden surprises.<br/><br/>He set the book down last.  His eyes slid over her studiously, over the hips drawn tight by hidden corsets, the swell of cleavage tight lacing put on display, and the bustle that gave her a church-bell of a figure.  He didn’t much care for Ginny in a dress - he rather liked the scandalous way she dressed in town when she was ready for a night of cards and drink, when whiskey turned her drawl into a nigh-comprehensible slur.  The kind of thing that could be ripped off and open in the clutch of powerful hands.  He considered her for a moment, then rose to his feet.<br/><br/>“Gonna have to frisk you, Miss Whateley.”<br/><br/>Townsend paled a little bit more, and shook his head.  Bilton ignored him, and gave Ginny another gaze, unpeeling the layers of clothes with his.  “You could have a whole bundle o’ dynamite hidden in that bustle o’ yours.”