[Center][color=ed1c24][b]Waylon - S&W Weaponry[/b][/color][/center]


Waylon was cleaning his trusty 1911 when a knock came from the door, he furrowed his brow then shrugged, walking over to the door he notice Frieda standing outside. Before her hand landed on the doorknob, he opened it for her,  "Uh, hey," she began, quietly, "Can I bum a cigarette? I'll owe you one, I promise."

He smiled, “Sure, c’mon in,” he held open the door for her as she stepped inside. He closed and locked it, flipping the sign to closed, “Hell, with all that's happened I doubt I'll have many, if any customers today anyways. Lemme see is I still have some in my desk drawer.” Waylon pulled a chair over, “You've had one hell of a day too, have a seat.” He rifled through his desk drawers until he found a four packs Brandy had traded for a couple of shotgun shells. He packed one and tore open the cellophane handing Frieda the whole pack, “Here ya go, that way you'll have some for later,” he winked. 

He pulled out a second pack and opened it up, then he held out an antique Zippo and lit Frieda’s cigarette before lighting his and sitting down. “So how's Brandy doing? She didn't look to good at all.” He sighed, “This has kicked Shelby into a hot mess, she's off and about. I hope she keeps her head on straight.” He caught himself rambling, “I'm sorry about that. So, what do you feel like for dinner tonight? I'll cook it up, or at least try.” He laughed a little, “I just want this day to turn into evening and get to dinner.”