[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yKNxeF4KMsY]"Look at the stars
Look how they shine for you 
And everything you do 
Yeah they were all yellow."[/url]

[indent]It'd been a month. A long, hard month. The day that that misbehaving Hype had been taken from the Square, Sam had gone home. Gone home to find the security shutters of his shop totally trashed, graffiti on what remained of the aluminium frame spelling out a death threat. The youths he'd scared off earlier in the day had been back. They were angry, no doubt, but as he picked past the wreckage of the shutters he found the interior still intact, thankfully. He'd even found his television frame up in its corner, complete with a new set. Charlie's man had been around; no doubt let himself in with the key he had stashed outside. On the corner his shop unit was a drainpipe that led up to the top of the building, and between that pipe and the red brick that composed the outside facade of his place, there lay a key, taped innocuously to the aluminium pipe. Between the key and the pipe was a small piece of paper and Sam knew what it was: an I.O.U. He flipped it open and yes, it was indeed a bill for the repairs. Ninety bucks. Not a whole lot, but still that would set him back a fair ways. He kept it in mind as he taped the spare key back in place; no sense using it, the shutters were damaged beyond any hope of being opened. He'd call Charlie again later to get another guy to replace the things. Nothing was missing, nothing broken, so he was still happy. The days rolled by and October hurt its head walking through his shop door, the days were colder and the nights were longer and he was wearing thicker clothes.

Today was like any other. His routine had returned the moment his shutters had been replaced. The early morning runs, meeting Mrs Robinson, having breakfast at the cafe while the two policemen rolled on by on patrol, everything was as it should be. He sat behind the counter, idly polishing one of his revolvers, by the name of Carl as it were, while his beagle Casey yawned and snuggled up to his stomach where she lay on his lap. Slow day, as usual.

Probably.[/indent]

[url= https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yKNxeF4KMsY]"I came along 
I wrote a song for you 
And all the things you do 
And it was called Yellow."[/url]

[indent] [b]“Hello, hi. You should change stations.”[/b]

That woke him up. He gently ushered Casey off his lap and onto the floor as he stood to greet the potential customer. The man in question wasn't that big, even if he looked it, with shifty eyes and hands that wringed and fiddled with each other nervously. In the crook of his arm sat a little doll, with a little red dress, shiny black shoes and a warm smile on its hand-stitched face. Casey ambled around the counter, her paws making a soft pitter patter on the linoleum floor as she went up to the stranger and examined his leg by way of sniffing it gently, before turning her cute head back to him as if to ask "who is this man, Sam?" He merely smiled and emerged from behind the counter, walking up to the beagle to give her head a gentle scratching. His radio, though on, was on soft, and it cast a little shadow of uncertainty over this strange, but interesting man that stood in his shop. He pushed that feeling aside as he tipped the brim of an imaginary hat and flashed a bright, warm smile.

[color=yellow]"Howdy partner. In here looking for something?"[/color]

[b]“You rent guns?”[/b]

Another question from the unknown visitor. Hmm.

[color=yellow]"Sadly sir I do not, however if you're looking to buy one, you're in the right place. I sell secondhand firearms and restore old ones, all for a small fee of course."[/color]

He did do all of those, of course, but renting guns was something very few did around here. Mostly they did that in gun ranges and this was nowhere near a range, so rentals were out of the question. He smiled and spread his arms, gesturing to his whole shop.

[color=yellow]"What y'see here is what ya get. Anything in here is for sale. 'Cept the shop, course. Hehe."[/color][/indent]