August burst in through the Saloon doors as dramatically as possible, duster flaring and spurs clinking slightly as he did so. It was a classic moment in a lot of Westerns, and the boy had been dying to imitate it ever since he had first set foot on 'Cowboy World' as he insisted on calling it. He had been equally insistent on purchasing some local clothing including the duster, a stetson, the long-rifle case that concealed his Space Sword and the rest of his 'world appropriate' outfit as soon as he arrived. Not only would it hopefully make him less conspicuous but it also allowed him to indulge his passion for Western films just that much more. Sure, he looked a little out of place still with his metal cane in hand and it was a major pain to actually walk in spurs but it was worth it for the little rush of acting out scenes he'd enjoyed in his more boredom-filled days. For that reason he sidled up to the bar while gazing around at the rest of the occupants, drawing rigid durability from the metal of his cane in order to avoid limping and seal away the discomfort of the spurs to a distant corner of his mind before locking eyes with the bartender. He knew exactly what to order in this sort of situation, in fact he'd been rehearsing it over in his mind before coming here to make sure. "Gimme a Sarsaparilla and uh, clean the glass off first." No sense drinking dirt and who knew what else along with it, after all. [color=gray][i][b]Augustus, don't we have things to do aside from your games?[/b][/i][/color] [i]Relax 'Rari', I've barely figured out what we're supposed to be doing here anyway, so we might as well relax a bit while we wait for trouble to find us.[/i] Honestly, August's spiritual tutor may have been a bodyguard where he was from, but the man was still a little too tightly wound in his protege's opinion. Nevertheless the young man kept all of his senses alert for any sudden changes around him even while sipping his carbonated drink. It would be embarrassing if he came all this way just to die in an assassination or worse yet from some errant bullet or blade in a barroom fight.