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[color=f7976a]Location: Armadillo  ||  Mentions: NONE[/color][/center]

	"[color=f49ac2]We'll need more than that.[/color]"  Draven rolled his eyes at her words as they rang out behind him.  His long hair tickled his cheeks as they acted as a curtain to his face.  The slow, rhythmic clip clop of the two horses sounded off like a clock in the night echoing upon the distant hills and dunes.  Draven looked back to the girl, regarding the ten year old with a sort of suspicion, silently questioning her qualifications before doing so verbally.

	"[color=f7976a]Why in the hell would we need more?  That's you, me, two gunners, and a safe-[/color]" Draven cut his words short.  The young girl's face, framed with long brown hair, took on a sudden expression that only meant one thing: trouble.  Before even witnessing the problem for himself, Draven's hands shot toward his holsters as his head whipped back.

	"[color=a9a9a9]Uh-uh, pilgrim,[/color]" said one of several men on horseback.  "[color=a9a9a9]Hands where I can see 'em.[/color]"  Draven's eyes slowly met the man's.  He looked upon this stranger with hatred as he stared down the barrel of the fool's pistol.  These idiots clearly did not know who they were up against.  "[color=a9a9a9]I hate to interrupt a late night stroll between a father and his daughter, but if you aim to finish your stroll, it's gonna cost ya some coin, sir.[/color]"  Most of the bandits were dressed in bland leather with shirts so dust ridden that you couldn't really tell what color they started off being.  The mouthpiece of the group seemed the cleanest, but only slightly, with a mustache that was waxed to a point on each side of it.  Between speeches, the head honcho couldn't help but twitch it.

	"[color=f7976a]Listen, fellas, I've got no coin to give.  She and I are just passin' through.[/color]"  He didn't see her approach, but Draven suddenly realized the young girl and her horse were now right beside him.  Her demeanor was uncomfortably calm as she starred ahead, her eyes shifting between each of the three other bandits while Draven focused his attention on the fourth.

	"[color=a9a9a9]Then give us the horses and the metal.[/color]"  Head Honcho's tone was becoming more stern, his patience withering away.  Draven looked over to the girl and she looked right back.  There was a silent exchanged followed by a slight nod from them both.  The duo looked to the gang ahead once more, but there was something different.  There was fire behind the eyes of this couple.  As soon as he saw it, the Honcho shouted, "[color=a9a9a9]Kill those-[/color]"

	Four shots rang out in such rapid succession that it really only sounded like two.  Soon after, four different bodies hit the ground with sickening thumps as the dead weight of the new corpses fell off of their horses.  Draven and the young girl, their smoking guns still held in the air with each of their hands, looked at eachother one more time before holstering their weapons and beckoning their horses to move forward.

	"[color=f49ac2]Want me to grab their billfolds?[/color]" the girl asked as they approached the bodies.

	"[color=f7976a]Those fucker's ain't got no billfolds,[/color]" Draven said with disgust.  "[color=f7976a]Look at 'em, Seven.  Human trash.  Let's go.[/color]"

	The lights and sounds of Armadillo were in the distance.  A small bit of relief fell over Draven's face.  He had built up quite the thirst along the journey.  Once they crossed the railroad tracks and found themselves on the main town road, Draven nodded toward the saloon.  "[color=f7976a]Go get us stocked up on provisions.  Meet me back in there.  I need a drink.[/color]"  Seven said nothing, but she would undoubtedly do as she was told.  As the two hitched their horses, they parted ways.

	Draven opened the swinging doors to the saloon and smiled, basking in the light above while his ears were filled with the sound of chatting, curses and someone at the piano slapping some keys down to a tune.  Before taking another step in, he looked at each and every face he could.  You never knew where you might meet an enemy.  It was always best to take inventory of the people around you ahead of time.

	Satisfied with his company, he made his way to the bar, slid some money toward the tender and pulled back a glass of whisky straight.  There was only one table left in the bar that wasn't occupied.  After a healthy sip of his poison, Draven sauntered over, sat down and made that table his own.  Seven would be back soon.  Once she got there, they'd have to decide which one of these folk could handle a bit of danger.