Gideon had just finished strapping on his holster rig when he heard the shots. He turned his head sharply towards his window as they resounded, and slowly inched over to check, carefully drawing his Walther as he did. Leaning out a few inches he checked down the street towards the sounds, but he couldn't see anything and no further shots came.

He stepped back, holstering his second pistol carefully. He thought about how foolish he was to keep coming here, sure he kept most of the stuff he would regret being stolen in a more "safe" location, but then bandits were just as likely to kill you in your sleep as much as rob you blind. One day, they could come in such force they'd overrun the defences and then what would he do? Then again, that's why regulars usually watched eachothers' backs while in town. 

Walking back over to his trunk, he went back to putting his "work" gear on. He took his sawed off double-barrel out of the trunk and checked it over as he had his Walther. Gun maintenance was one of the few things he spent a decent amount of money on, better to sleep in a sparse attic with rags for sheets than to have a gun misfire or jam when he needed it. He cracked the barrel open and looked down at his ammo stocks. 8 buckshot shells and a handful of clips between his Walther and M1911, he'd have to buy some more before he left today, he may even have to stop by his stash. He loaded two shells into the barrels and cracked it closed, laying the gun carefully back down as he reached over and grabbed his coat and slipped it on along with his pack. 

Giving himself one more once-over in the mirror, he picked his shotgun back up and slung it over his shoulder before pulling the switch on his trapdoor and stepping down into the dilapidated house beneath his attic home and down towards the road. Looking back towards the earlier sounds of gunshots, he turned off towards the [i]biergarten[/i].