Reuben Caerwynn considered himself a gentleman. Sure, he had a fondness for drink, and sure, he occasionally hired a whore or two, but on the whole, he figured himself about as upstanding as any man could be in this mess of a world. As he looked down at the young woman on the bed, gun included, and heard her cutting words, he realized that his outer appearance likely did little to convince others of that opinion.

	The girl was something else indeed. She was a cute little thing, if a bit young. Despite the confidence with which she held the Colt, she couldn't have been more than a teenager, and a youngish one at that. He shook his head disapprovingly.

	"Old man... why that's right unkind, so it is! Heh. Little thing like you shouldn' be talkin' that way. Shouldn' be toting a gun that size either. The second you fire the thing, it'll practically take your arm off." He chuckled a bit, alcohol and misplaced confidence making him forget the gun for a moment. "Don' get your knickers in a bunch, kid. I've no quarrel with you. Jus' mistook my door 's all." He slurred the words, putting a bit more emphasis into his drunken speech than was strictly accurate, hoping that playing up the image of a confused drunk would add to the image of his innocence.

	It was a bit of a surprise to him that the child didn't recognize him. Sure, this wasn't his area of influence, but he'd been quite the legend in his day. He edged the bottle closer to his mouth, then thought better of it, setting it on the dresser. Perhaps it was for the best. He was trying to put his past behind him. He couldn't do that if he was recognized at every saloon he stopped at. Hmm. Maybe he should see about growing a beard.

	Somehow, he snapped his addled mind free from such thoughts. Something about the girl was familiar. He hadn't seen her before, that was certain. He'd have remembered such a thing. No, it wasn't her face... Ah, that was it. Her voice.

	"Say, miss... You were the one hollering downstairs a few minutes past, weren't you? Yeah, that'd have to be it. A fellow I know said you were bounty hunting or some damn fool idea like that." He leaned against the dresser, making himself at home a bit, despite the gun. "I suggest you take a cue from my book." He picked up the bourbon once more, extending it in her direction. "Have a drink, find a shrimpy fellow to bounce around on. Or a woman, whatever your tastes. Keep away from vengeance. Doesn't lead anywhere good. And stop carrying a gun out in the open. You're asking to be shot, is what you're doing." He nodded sagely, as though he had shared some great gift of wisdom with the younger traveler.

	He made no move for the door, but nor did he go for his gun. To all outward appearances, he simply didn't count the girl as a threat, but still wanted to be treated with something approximating respect.