Among many other God given gifts, Abigail had a keen eye for faces, making it immediately apparent that this particular gunslinger wasn’t any of the fools she’d seen downstairs not a half hour prior. That of course didn’t make him any less of a fool, since it was also apparent by the drunken lust in his eyes and his opening words that he definitely hadn’t come calling on account Abigail’s intended purpose.

It didn’t take her long to have him figured out. The bronzed tone of his skin, them beaded hints of his attire, made it perfectly certain there was some variety of native swimming around in that blood of his, and judging by his unkempt presentation and the bottle he had gripped tighter that a stolen purse full of gold - combined with them low riding guns on his belt - he had all too many reason to be drowning his principles in alcohol and harlots. Washed up old men like him were a dime a dozen in a place like this. 

A smooth lowering of her brow let him know of his flagrant imposition, and she already had that hammer cocked before he finished spluttering out his initial dismay upon entering her room, though at this point she felt no need to raise her cannon from her thigh. To be perfectly straight about it, she wasn’t at all jumpy or perturbed by his mistaken choice of doors to enter, it was more of an intrigue that he still had the capacity to keep standing on his own two feet.  

“It’s generally customary for a gentleman to introduce himself upon entering the room of a lady. But I see first up you ain’t no gentleman. Had you not been slop'n around in the unholiest of holes when I arrived, you might have had the honor of know'n just who I am and what my purpose is here - And I can tell ya right now; what I’m do’n here ain’t got an iota of similarity to what you have plague'n your mind.”

Now, Abigail had way with the misleading sweet pleasantries of her voice, and it wasn’t uncommon to captivate folk with her spoken demeanor. It therefore wouldn’t have been at all surprising had Reuben not found himself a decent reply at this point. She gave two taps of her trigger finger against the guard of her gun, in the case he wasn’t already aware of the pretty, hand engraved barrel pointed directly at his head. 

“There’s no question about it; I ain’t the whore you’d been expecting to find, [i]Chief[/i]. Apparent you’ve gone ahead and gotten yourself lost. Maybe your undignified state of mind got you all confused between your left and right.” She slipped her slender finger gently over the trigger itself and prepared a good squeeze, yet she still hadn’t raised that gun from her thigh. “And I know what you be think’n, that this fresh piece of meat before you is a whole lot more please'n on the eyes than that penny grip'n whore you left idle in some other room – but don’t you go getting any ideas about mounting this young filly. …Way I see it, right now you got a choice as to just how much of a mistake you’ve made by walk’n in here. I’m hereby give’n you a choice, old man; back on out of this room real slow like, keep’n your hands off them six-guns of yours, or perhaps I’ll be so inclined to splatter them drunken brains all over that wall behind ya.”