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Lunamaria Hawke
teenangstlifeSantos inhaled so slightly the night breeze. After spending hours in the stale air of his office, tending to logistics, taking a stroll towards the saloon would definitely help him sort his thoughts. He wasn't a man to engage in the affairs of backwater hicks readily, and for the most part, they did bore him. However it was equally true that he required a break from his strained routine every so often. Leading was no small task, and only a few chosen ones could bear such burden.
None of them understood that. After all, what could the tiny rats know about the troubles of a wolfpack leader? His men, while loyal, were also a lousy lot when idle and without focus. And there was so much to do, and so little reward coming his way. Had he erred the location once again? Without gold this town held no value for his plan of building a proper retirement place for the soldiers which had accompanied him. At least the income had been balanced with the land and well acquisitions recently, even if he had to use methods, that if they were to be known, they'd probably be frowned upon.
It should still work. After all, we're all war veterans, and these are just dodgy vaqueros with guns. Santos rubbed his forehead, crunching even more numbers. There was also the issue that some crass moron had spread the tale about his exploits as the Butcher of Acapulco, and now some of the locales visiblely flinched in his presence.
Wasn't Machiavelli the one who said that it is better to be feared than to be loved? He thought to himself.
There was another reason why he was heading towards the saloon. An strategical one. The owner of said place had also quite the reputation, and inside the old soldier's head the alarms rang about Lady Rose. She had all the hallmarks of a woman who was much more than it seemed, and if left unchecked she would gladly outmaneuver her business rivals. The fact she was one of the few people inside town whose presence could be tolerated was an added bonus. Either as a partner with common goals or antagonist, it was worth checking once in a while.
He cradled his secret weapon in his arms like a precious gold ingot. In some ways, it was. French Champagne was a pain to get in this backwater town, and that was with all the contacts he maintained in the Old World. It would strike quite an impression to offer such token to an alcohol merchant.
Here and there, sounds of a brawl were heard near the saloon. Ricardo Santos was no coward and didn't fear such scuffles, bullets flying or not, but he knew better than to step in a brawl uninvited. He stood at a safe distance, sighing.
"Uncouth lot, all of them. I suppose it's the usual lovelihood of the saloon, as ever." He added, witnessing the entire spectacle in his hands outside the Saloon, a champagne bottle in his arms. One thousand? Peh. Small change for dirtying my hands. He added mentally upon hearing Rose's voice.
None of them understood that. After all, what could the tiny rats know about the troubles of a wolfpack leader? His men, while loyal, were also a lousy lot when idle and without focus. And there was so much to do, and so little reward coming his way. Had he erred the location once again? Without gold this town held no value for his plan of building a proper retirement place for the soldiers which had accompanied him. At least the income had been balanced with the land and well acquisitions recently, even if he had to use methods, that if they were to be known, they'd probably be frowned upon.
It should still work. After all, we're all war veterans, and these are just dodgy vaqueros with guns. Santos rubbed his forehead, crunching even more numbers. There was also the issue that some crass moron had spread the tale about his exploits as the Butcher of Acapulco, and now some of the locales visiblely flinched in his presence.
Wasn't Machiavelli the one who said that it is better to be feared than to be loved? He thought to himself.
There was another reason why he was heading towards the saloon. An strategical one. The owner of said place had also quite the reputation, and inside the old soldier's head the alarms rang about Lady Rose. She had all the hallmarks of a woman who was much more than it seemed, and if left unchecked she would gladly outmaneuver her business rivals. The fact she was one of the few people inside town whose presence could be tolerated was an added bonus. Either as a partner with common goals or antagonist, it was worth checking once in a while.
He cradled his secret weapon in his arms like a precious gold ingot. In some ways, it was. French Champagne was a pain to get in this backwater town, and that was with all the contacts he maintained in the Old World. It would strike quite an impression to offer such token to an alcohol merchant.
Here and there, sounds of a brawl were heard near the saloon. Ricardo Santos was no coward and didn't fear such scuffles, bullets flying or not, but he knew better than to step in a brawl uninvited. He stood at a safe distance, sighing.
"Uncouth lot, all of them. I suppose it's the usual lovelihood of the saloon, as ever." He added, witnessing the entire spectacle in his hands outside the Saloon, a champagne bottle in his arms. One thousand? Peh. Small change for dirtying my hands. He added mentally upon hearing Rose's voice.
(I know, it's cheating)