<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/>Christian was known, for better or worse, as a hard man; stern, strict, and without any humor but the dark kind. The absolute arrogance with which Sloane spoke down to Christian caused a hush to fly across the entirety of Casino Morongo, and that stare from the Grim One himself that stretched between the two of them was once again evoked. Christian just narrowed his eyes, a patron or two would have sworn to seeing a slight twitch in his left eye. Then the notorious gunslinger smirked.<br/><br/>“Ya know, mister, men say I draw, fire, and skin my iron faster’n other men pull a trigger,” Christian gave the slightest glance back to Yanko inferring his meaning, “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.<em>Sloane</em>,” Christian said, bowing his head just the slightest degree, a deference of respect to the businessman, “No disrespect intended.”<br/><br/><strong>“Now, would you like a blowjob while you’re playing cards, Specter?”</strong>Sloane had inquired so conspicuously, with peace restored, and a very rare thing happened. Christian was taken aback. Not many men offered him a blowjob, especially a free one, and it had never happened in mixed company. Well, mixed company that did not include whores.<br/><br/>“I...” Christian stopped speaking for a moment, knowing he would be able to utter anything more than a single syllable.<em>What the hell kinda place did I stumble inta?</em>Christian thought to himself. Not that it bothered him, quite the opposite really. The idea intrigued him, but, some habits died hard in a man. Especially in a man that did not exactly die easy. He gave a glance to Ginny, both to gauge her reaction and perhaps catch her attention for a bit more than his legend.<br/>His eyes stayed on her own as he spoke, “No thank ya, Mr. Sloane. I think I’ve got all the company I’ll be needin’ right here.”<br/><br/>An hour or two passed without Specter doing more than playing cards. He did not speak, did not grumble, and he barely drank. He just played his cards, and kept his hat low. While others at the table may engage in conversation, Christian remained silent. Even if others attempted to bring him into the discussion, he remained quiet, a glacial stare the only thing he gave back in return. That was until a man playing with them decided he had had enough of Ginny’s winning streak.<br/><br/>The miner, went by the name Sooters, or Tiny to his friends, stood up violently, throwing his chair back a foot or two as it clattered to the ground. He was snarling as he leaned across the table towards Ginny, lust and hate in his eyes. “I done thunk I had ‘nuff o’ yer cheatin’, ya low-down, whore of a goat. I think I’ll take ya out back and your Whateley cunt whatta real man’ll do to ya.”<br/><br/>This miner looked like what one might expect man named Tiny. He was well into six feet, possibly hitting seven, with arms as wide around as most men’s legs, and a barreled chest made from a life of swinging an pick at rock. His voice was rumbling and low, and the cords of his muscles creaked as he pressed down upon the table. His teeth were a rotten yellow, and he was missing several. A scar hung across his face, though its source was hard to determine. His clothing was filthy, and if it had not been for the sizeable ghost rock haul he had brought to the table it looked like he could barely afford to pay attention, let alone a mid-sized game of cards like what he was doing. Losing had been a painful experience for this giant of a man.<br/><br/>“Sit,” Christian said calmly, though his voice brooked no argument and a few might have sworn after that the temperature dropped several degrees when he talked, “down.”<br/><br/>Tiny turned to Christian, his snarl widened and the drunken glare he wore on his face twisted his visage until he looked even more ugly than before, if such a thing were possible. “And, who the fuck do ya…” the man paused when through his belligerence he realized who he was talking to, and nearly froze solid.<br/><br/>“Three things ya need ta know right now, big fella,” Christian spoke, but his eyes never left his cards, and he never even looked up to the giant. “One, ya know exactly who the fuck I am. Two, if your friend back there,” Spooky again just pointed towards a corner of the room, where a gangly man had stood unseen, his hand placed firmly on the wooden handle of his revolver, “skins that smokewagon, I’ll gun’m down, then give you a deadly case o’ lead poisonin’. Then, I’ll take yer claims, give’m to Mr. Sloane to cover the mess you two’ll make. Three, I’ll gun ya both down anyway if ya don’t sit the fuck down,” then Christian stared at the man, his eyes slightly narrowed but filled with death, “Right. Now.”<br/><br/>Tiny fell back into his seat so fast, and so hard, it snapped under him and he tumbled to the floor. That sent many of the patrons into an uproarious laughter at the humiliation the poor Sooters had just been put through. Christian did not so much laugh, as snort once, though his face betrayed no amusement at the poor man. Instead, he called for another round, one for himself, and one for his new friend Tiny.<br/><br/>“Miss,” Christian turned to Ginny again, “I reckon it was yer deal.”<br/>