(Ill go ahead and start off the plot then, assuming nobody wants to do anything else before that.)
As the group finishes greeting each other, the double doors behind them slammed open violently. The storm outside seems to have calmed down, once again the sky was a clear blue. A man hurries in without stopping. On his hip was a relatively small, well worn, revolver in its ragged holster, connected to an old leather belt, connected to a pair of jeans. Unconnected was his stained white shirt, over which was a half open heavy trench coat with noticeable bullet holes at random intervals. The door slams just as violently as it opened just as soon as he cleared it.
The slamming itself was not odd, at least to the people accustomed to life on the Hub already. New arrivals might jump, especially the gun shy ones, but it is a fixture on many buildings on this planet. Nobody wants their shop filled with sand, even leaving the door open a bit too long or leaving a little opening means you will have to spend hours with a broom. The doors work automatically, new arrivals can be found easy be seeing how they react to simply walking through the front door.
(...I think I have been putting too much random detail in random things.)
The man continues toward an empty spot on the bar, half waving toward anyone staring at him. He knocks his knuckles twice against the bar top, leaning on it with his arm as he speaks.
"Hey Cap, they say you want me for a job?" He states, with familiarity showing in his voice.
"I don't care who does it. I just need some sunofagun to get it done. Your the only sunnagun I don't have to leave my bar to get." the bartender states, in a voice suited and accustomed to commanding men. Even as he says so, he turns away from the burgers and grabs the glass he had been preparing. He fills it with foamy beer and slides it across the bar to the man.
"I'm flattered" the man states, taking a long gulp of the drink. He cleans off his stubbled face with his arm before putting the drink back down hard. "I just came to say personally that there is no way in hell I am taking this job. I am on vacation, remember? I knew I would get a drink out of the trip over here at least. Besides, with what your offering the boring job just ain't worth it. I got two better offers just from the sheriff getting over here, they paid more and where more fun than chasing lost cargo. You sure the Zygortian's didn't 'just' lose your goat cheese? You know how tricky they can be..."
(And thus, three potential plots have been opened! Sorry for writing this at 3AM, I couldn't resist. I officially apologize if anything is poorly written or doesn't make since.)
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Topic: Final Frontier: Spaceships and Six Guns Game Thread *SPLITTING THE FELLOWSHIP* (Read 3717 times)