Johnny grabbed his face, the searing burn of a bullet grazed across his cheek. He looked at his would-be assassin, the stench of fear and death lingering off him. Even under the influence, Johnny had his hand in his jacket reaching for his revolver and within seconds was aiming the bastard down. Johnny knew his Colt Dragoon better then this man probably knew this town.

"Sir, you've rightly fucked up!," Johnny told the man with the roar of a lion as fresh blood dripped down his face. "Put the damn gun down before I blow your dumb fucking head off!"

Johnny wanted nothing but to gun the man down in front of him and be done with this, but with two law officers sitting in the same saloon, pleaing self-defense meant bullshit. Best to do was have them hall this fool away and not start something he'd regret. There was enough regret in Johnny already.