As the small group conversed amongst themselves, Achille's gaze intensified immediately. There was something in the air, there was no question about it. With his abilities weakened, the bounty hunter had no choice but to expose his face to get a better read on his suspicions. Raising a gloved hand, Achille lowered his bandana revealing his clean shaven, square jawed face. It was almost anti dramatic that for an individual to be so covered up have no spectacular secrets. There were no scars, tattoos, odd markings... nothing that adorned his face. Yet in the most subtle of expressions, Achille grimaced briefly as the sun kissed the parts of his exposed, pale face. After taking a moment to compose himself, Achille smelled the air... his suspicions confirmed. Turning his head towards the direction of the smell, Achille watched the undead horde make itself known to the town. Running past the crowd, Achille took note of what appeared to be the sheriff rushing towards the undead, prepared to engage the horde. [i]"I suppose if any of you can wield a weapon, might as well make yourself useful. If not... it's probably best you run now."[/i] The bounty hunter stated bluntly as he stepped away from the group. Walking towards where he had hitched his muscular, breton horse Achille grabbed the repeater riffle that was attached to a hoister on the horse's saddle with one hand, while placing his other hand on his gun belt which housed his two ornate revolvers. Taking measured steps, his eyes fixated on the horde, Achille placed himself alongside the sheriff, his tone drifting between a serious, and sarcastic measure. [i]"Judging from that look on your face, I'm guessing introductions can wait. I hope you don't freeze on me if this goes south."[/i].Prepping his trigger finger, Achille's eyes zoomed in the individual who appeared to be leading the horde, his stance ready for whatever was to come.