Johnny was drunk in a bad way. An endless supply of most likely watered down drink had him slouched face first on the bar, humming all ranch songs or burping up some gibberish.

He sat up for a moment, his eyes red as he looked around the saloon. The place was packed now, with folks from around town or just roaming in. One fell had no face, only showing his bare skull. It creeped out Johnny for a second until he remembered how he killed Old Man Jenkins back at the Lucky Duck. He's done and seen far worse.

Johnny looked over to Rose, the only person who'd given him the time of day since his brother's passing and sighed. She would understand, right?

"Miss Rose, *hicup*, can I ask you a short question?," Johnny asked with the mental state of a town drunk.