Among the rabble of the city, the Sheriffs Department sat near the outer edges as the sun broke through the clouds.  Inside, Jack sat near his desk, his feet laying on the table and his chair propped back.  His bowler hat covered his face as he snoozed away.  Obviously he had to work the night shift.  The Sheriff was always giving him some kind of stressful or otherwise boring job, which usually led to him taking a very long "nap."  As he snoozed away, one of the criminals inside a cell nearby started to ring his cup against the bars of his cell, waking Jack up in surprise.  Nearly falling backwards, before steadying himself out, Jack groaned and rubbed his eyes.  "[color=1a7b30][i][b]Can't a guy get some sleep in peace?[/b][/i][/color]"  He glared at the criminal and picked up his hat, placing it back on his head, and strolled out into the town.

His usual daily routine was to patrol around in the morning, making sure the peace wasn't being disturbed.  Every few feet he was greeted with a "[i]Good morning.[/i]" or "[i]How are you?[/i]", the usual.  Occasionally there would be a theft or two, which Jack would have to stop, but it appeared that today was going to start off quite nice.  He loved the feeling of the sun on his skin, which made him grow a big smile almost uncontrollably.  After walking about, Jack made his way to the back of the Sheriffs Department, where a small assortment of bottles were put up in several places for the law enforcement's convenience.  He took a stance, pulled out his revolver quickly, and fire off at one of the bottles...missing entirely.  "[color=1a7b30][i][b]Come on, damn it...[/b][/i][/color]", he mumbled under his breath, trying again more and more.  A few bottles would break every now and again, but his skill was far from impressive.  Of course, if he used his Winchester, the shots would be hitting their mark every time.  Jack, however, wanted to be a gunslinger, just like the legends that the saloon-goers gossiped about.

So there he was, firing off constantly, trying to practice his marksmanship with a revolver, shots echoing from the station over and over again.