[center][img]https://i.ibb.co/PGJWrG8/JackHart.jpg[/img] [color=39b54a][b]Location:[/b] Saloon[/color] | [color=39b54a][b]Interation:[/b] [@Silentfeather][/color][/center] "[color=39b54a]Work.[/color]" Jack repeated Kira's word with a bit of venom in his voice. 'Work' was a concept that he tried to avoid. He'd much rather make a living by having a good time. "[color=39b54a]Well good luck with that in [i]this [/i]town,[/color]" he offered with an uneasy smirk. Without much else, he took Kira's advice and did what would make him most entertained: he began a stride toward the outside of the saloon. A covered porch wrapped around the establishment, offering mild shade and room to loiter. Jack leaned up on the railing and pulled out some paper and a healthy pinch of tobacco from his satchel before doing some quick magic with his fingers, turning to two ingredients into a finely rolled cigarette. Jack replaced the components back in his sack before retrieving and striking a match, letting the tip of his roll ignite. The body of the smoke filled his throat and lungs before diverging and exiting out his nostrils. As he stood there imbibing, he picked up little bits and pieces of conversation. Something about graves and disturbances, sheriffs and justice... "[color=39b54a]Good ol' grave robbing,[/color]" he said out loud to no one in particular. "[color=39b54a]Never understood it, myself. That's a lot of digging for a small prize, and that's just if there's any worthwhile prize to be had at all.[/color]"