[MillietheWarrior]

(Tennessee Ref) ---- (Ol‘ Blackie Ref) ---- (John Marston Ref) ---- (John‘s Penticorn Ref)

“John, I don’t mean ta question ya or anythin,’ but d’ya’ll think this is a good idea?”

John steered his horse down the narrow trail, through the thick brush. It kicked up a small cloud of dust as he took heels to it’s sides and picked up the pace. “Nah, I ain’t too sure about nothin’ nowadays, Nessee. But we can’t keep a’travelin’ tuh’night. It’d be too dark ta see the nose in front of our faces ‘fore long. That town’s our best bet fer bunkin’ down. I don’t care how many enemies ya made along the way; I ain’t a’spendin’ the night in the dirt again.” Tennessee growled, her face set into a scowl as she kicked her heels against her own mount, spurring him on to John’s side. The two Penticorns plodded along side by side, unconcerned with the debate going on between their rides. “Yeah, well, you ain’t the one who got the bounty on yer head, now are ya?” Nessee groused, pulling her gun from it’s holster to make sure it was loaded. “I go inta that town, and BAM. I’m gonna have evry do-gooder and no-gooder after muh head. But ya’ll don’t give a rat’s ass if I’m duckin’ and weavin’ bullets as long as ya get yer  nice comfy bed, huh?”

Her frown morphed into a glower, and John laughed, a deep throated, raspy chuckle that had Tennessee raising a gloved hand to smack the back of his head. “Aw, little darlin,’ yer breakin’ my heart. Don’t ya worry none, now, Nessee. Ol’ John’ll keep ya nice an’ safe. Fer the most part, o’course.” He dodged the next smack by forcing his horse to pick up the pace, and an answering set of hooves followed, matching him speed for speed as the two cowpokes rode into town. A few folks who were out at night paused to give them odd looks, but quickly scurried away when they caught sight of the scowl on Nessee’s face. “I’ll hold ya to it, John,” She muttered as the two of them dismounted outside of a saloon, sliding down from their saddles. Both simultaneously pulled their rifles from the saddles and slid them into the holsters around their backs. Nessee once against patted the pistol at her side, as if to remind herself that it was, indeed, there, before she shot John a dark look.

“I don’t want no trouble tuhnight,” she grumped as she and John tied their horses to the hitching post. “One drank, then we go find a hotel an’ bunk the horses down fer the night, ya hear?” John waved his hand and patted his horse on the neck, before they mounted the old, dusty steps into the saloon. As John pushed the swinging doors open, a hush fell over the once exuberant and noisy crowd. Nessee hid he face beneath her hat, staying close to John as the music and the voices slowly rose back up, seemingly content with the new faces in town. A few eyes followed them suspiciously as they made their way to the bar, but neither Nessee nor John took any notice of them. John leaned his arms across the hard wood of the saloon bar, and the bartender lean across, looking him up and down. “What’ll it be, stranger?” John grunted as Nessee slid in beside him, glancing over her shoulder with narrowed eyes at the small group of men near the back whispering frantically and gesturing towards them. “Whiskey,” John growled. “One fer me and muh pardner here.”

The bartender’s shrewd gaze turned towards Nessee, and narrowed slightly. “Sorry, fella. We don’t serve kids in here. Yer gonna have tuh go somewhere else.” Nessee’s head whipped around, her eyes shadowed by her hat and reached across the bar, her fingers twisting in the front of the man’s shirt. “I ain’t no kid,” she snarled in the deepest voice she could manage. “Now gimme a whiskey, er we can take this on outside.” John reached forward and unwound the girl’s hand from the man’s shirt, sighing quietly as the bartender quickly complied and set two glasses of whisker on the bar with the bottle between in. “Thank ya,” John mumbled, feeling a bit embarrassed by the young girl’s brash actions. It certainly hadn’t done either of them any favors, and as he brought eh cup to his lips, he felt a strong tap on his shoulder. John turned slowly, noting that Nessee hadn’t followed suit, and was shooting down the whiskey like it was going out of style. “Can I help ya?” John asked in the politest voice he could muster. The either men behind him all looked varying degrees of dirty, tough, and hungry (though he had a feeling that hunger wasn’t for food, and was instead, for that devil made thing called money).

“Hey mister. You and yer pardner look awful familiar-like. In fact, I think I dun seen his face down near the jail on one of them thar… What d’ya call them thangs, Clem?” The man named Clem grunted, his beady eyes narrowing at Tennessee’s back. “Them bounty posters, I think, Jeb. Hey you. Yeah, you, turn around ya lilly-livered son of a bitch.” He prodded Tennessee in the back with one dirty hand, and John winced; well, there went the night. That was a baaaad idea. “You talkin’ tuh me?” Tennessee drawled slowly, and John saw her shoulders stiffen slightly as she downed the shot of whiskey in one gulp. “Yeah, I’m talkin’ ta you. Yer comin’ with us. Yer hide is worth a lot a’money.” He seemed to practically salivate at the idea of the bounty he and his gang would collect upon turning in the young woman. Of course, no one actually knew Tennessee was a woman, not even the wanted posters. It listed her as a young man, aged about 18, and even managed to portray her with stubble, which John knew for a fact she’d never in her life had.

“Well,” Tennessee rumbled. “Guess there ain't no helpin’ it, huh, John?” That was all the warning any of them got before she whirled around and decked Clem into unconsciousness. “Who’s next?” she drawled, looking unconcerned as she leaned against the saloon. The leader, Jeb, growled, and that was all the warning she and John got before the group pounced.

[Kallile]

Insima Subeta Ref

The pair rolling into town was hardly even noticed by one woman in particular. The shirt--something that was meant for a true lady, as covered in dust and grim as we her fair skin. Blazing orange-red hair was pulled behind her head into a haphazard ponytail that swung to and fro as she bounced happily along her way. There was a hay-bale in front of her also bouncing with her steps, and she hummed a tune as she marched towards the boarding stables.

Only when the two new horses were tethered did she take notice. Ah, two more guests! A sound of blissful excitement escaped her lips and she picked up her pace to deliver the hay. Better start making some more room while she was in there...

Inside the saloon, however, things were very different.


Fletcher Subeta Ref---Locksley Subeta Ref

"Too quiet tonight, Shooter." Came a deep baritone voice from a shadowed corner.

"It's just quiet enough, Lock. Don't worry so much." A much lighter voice quipped back.

"Would'a been in jail months ago if I didn't worry so much, you know." The man said with a grin on his face as he finally leaned forward into the candle that lit up the otherwise pitch black corner. His hair was buzzed off close to his head--a rich golden-red. The man was big; big in the sense of being far too tall with impossibly broad shoulders and muscles to match. He was, for all intents and purposes, shaped much like a human battering ram.

The man he was speaking to leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes just before a lock of auburn hair fell into them. "A fact I thank you for daily, let me remind you. However, we're not targets here, just breezing through....like those two."

His gesture moved towards John and Tennessee as they entered the bar. Fletcher and Locksley fell silent with the rest of the crowd to remain inconspicuous, although Fletcher trained his eyes to them instantly. Outsiders to a town were easy pickings for a self-named 'king of thieves', and likewise, such crimes were easier to get away with if no one knew your name or reputation.

Tonight was looking like a win-win.

Locksley finally leaned back in his chair, spotting the band of would-be trouble makers before Fletcher.

"Hey Fletch..."

"I see 'em."

And then the tiniest fighter threw a punch. Fletcher felt his chances of thievery slip drastically at the mention of wanted men. He certainly couldn't cash in on that gold mine. Reaching back for his bow and quiver of arrows, Fletcher gave a sigh. "Shall we?"

"Let's shall." Locksley replied with a smug grin, hand already gripped around the handle of a very large looking axe.

Before they made a physical move, Fletcher trained an arrow into the crowd and released the string.

Against the opposite wall, three hats and an arrow trembled as they found the mark. As if on cue, the axe-wielding giant let out a battle cry and moved to "ram" his way through the mob.

[1/1] [1/1] [1/1]

[MillietheWarrior]

The moment the hat’s left their heads, the three men in question had frozen. The rest of the five (Well, four if you wanted to be technical, since one of them was groaning on the ground courtesy of Nessee’s fist) continued their assault. Two men went after John, and the cowboy soon found himself forced into a fight. “Damn it,” he growled, catching the wrist of the man reaching for his pistol and twisting it until he heard a sickening crack. The man screamed in agony, clutching his now limp and useless wrist, and beat a hasty retreat out the swinging doors. Nessee, meanwhile, was holding her own very well in her fight…right up until the larger of the two men leapt on her back and wrapped his arms under her own. He held her immobile, while the first man landed a crippling punch to her stomach. The wind was knocked out of her with a loud ‘oomph!’ and she wheezed slightly as the man pulled back his arm to aim another blow.

Nessee gritted her teeth against the pain, before she brought one booted foot up and kicked him in his most sensitive area. Hard. The man yelped, his breath leaving him in a pained cry, and slumped to the floor. Nessee grinned wickedly in triumph, before realizing the second man still held her fast, and was steadily trying to drag her to the door. She wriggled and kicked, cursing at the top of her lungs, before she managed to hook one leg around his and swing him to the ground. She nearly beat him there, but her smaller size allowed her to twist out of the way, and as he hit the floor, Nessee pounced on top of him, kicking and punching like a wildcat until the man lay unconscious on the floor. Snarling at the limp body, the young woman hauled herself up and glared at the burly man who had charged into the fight. The three men he’d been aiming for (Or at least, the three who’d been immobile thanks to a random arrow that had literally come out of nowhere) hadn’t even put up much of a fight.

Two of them fled, and when the third saw his buddies had deserted them, he quickly flung himself out of the way of the gigantic man, and high-tailed it out of the bar. In the silence that followed, the only sound in the saloon was the moaning of the two men on the floor who were steadily regaining consciousness, and the heavy breathing of the two cowpoke they’d attacked. “Serves them right,” Nessee spat, her eyes narrowing at the mountain of a man who’d charged in. John stepped forward, looking the man over with eyes dark with respect, and held out a hand. “Much obliged, mister. Name’s John Marston, feller. This here’s muh pardner, Tennessee. We owe ya one. Can I buy ya a drank?” He was stopped from saying anything else by the sudden growling behind him, and the bottle of whiskey flew past his head, nearly clipping his ear, to smash against the burly man’s chest plate. “Who in the hell asked ya’ll to interfere?” Tennessee demanded, marching towards the axe wielding man despite John’s attempt to grab her and subdue her.

She shrugged him off easily, her eyes burning with anger as she stormed up to him, nearly chest to chest (Or well, eye to abs, cuz danm he was tall) and growled up into his face. “We was doin’ just fine on ‘er own, ya big, dumb mule! We didn’t need yer help. I ain’t a’buyin’ you a drank, and ya’ll can just get on yer way. I ain’t a’thankin’ you neither!” She glared once, briefly, at the still swinging saloon doors, and John slapped his forehead, praying for patience and for Tennessee’s soul, cuz the girl was going to get herself killed one of these days, and lord knows she needed someone to pray for her. “I coulda handled all o’ them, cow’rds.” She prodded the burly man in the chest with one finger, her scowl growing darker by the minute. "Now, why don’t ya’ll mosey on back tuh yer corner and stay outta other people’s business!”

[Kallile]

His arrow having flown true, Fletcher had hastily ducked under the table they had previously been sitting at. To see this act as cowardice was not completely true nor false. An archer was only useful if his position had yet to be found, for one, and secondly was that Fletcher was no brawler by any means. That was a job he happily handed over to Locksley and, in a happy marriage of brains and brawn, kept more stealthy threats picked off so his gargantuan companion could worry about cracking the big skulls.

It was a partnership that had never failed them yet, and it appeared to be holding true. As the final man able fled from the saloon Fletcher reappeared in the darkened corner grinning. He nimbly hurtled over the stool that had once supported him and strode towards Locksley. The notably larger man glanced down at his companion and shouldered his axe. "Can't say I did much m'self. Was all Fletch." He mumbled out.

Fletcher raised a hand to John's offer. "You owe us nothing, John Marston. Glad to be of service." He responded as he carefully walked over to retrieve his arrow. He wriggled it free from the wall and slid the collection of hats from it before examining the tip. With a frown he promptly snapped it in half and discarded it. "I am Fletcher, and this, ironically enough, is.."

The bottle of whiskey had flown more true than his own arrow and promptly shattered upon contact with the chest plate. Locksley glanced down at the dripping armor as he ran a finger over the contents to sample it. "Poor choice, that was a good year." He mused as his eyes roamed up to see the angry face of Tennessee. When the same firey spite found itself only inches from him, however, Locksley's demeanor shifted dangerously. His grip tightened against the leather handle of his axe, making the sickening crackle of skin against dead, tanned skin.

"You'd better watch that smart tongue of yours, boy." He growled darkly while looking as if he may simply reach out and crush her skull between index finger and thumb. Fletcher didd his best for a hasty intervention.

"Certainly, you both had them well under control. However, it's best to get head-hunters like those out of the picture as quickly as possible. Deal with them that much more quickly and they're less likely to come back snooping later."

All the commotion had drawn the attention of Insima.

The first man fleeing was nothing different--men were always getting drunk and picking fights they had no hope of winning. It was almost an hourly occurrence. But when another, and then three more, came pouring out the young country bumpkin simply had to go and see what was going on.

Abandoning her post, she slunk towards the saloon and peered inside. And, bless her soul, she couldn't help but giggle aloud at the sight of the petite looking Tennessee standing toe to toe with the mountainous Locksley.

"I think ya'll might be a bit unmatched!" She finally cackled out, seemingly unaware that her commentary was probably not wanted.

[MillietheWarrior]

“Oh yeah?” Tennessee growled, seemingly unaware of how much trouble she was getting herself into as she inched up on her toes. “And just who’s gonna make me, huh? You?” She prodded him in the chest at the last syllable, and was, quite promptly and unceremoniously, dragged backwards by John. He deposited the girl on one of the bar stools, where she sat, blinking in wide-eyed surprise and confused as John stepped in front of her. “Forgive muh, pardner. Tennessee just don’t know when ta shut that mouth o’-” He turned a the sound of an obviously angry snarl from the young girl behind him. When he glanced over his shoulder, he noticed that Nessee’s gaze wasn’t focused on Fletcher and Locksley, but on a woman who was peering into the bar. It was her commentary that had set Tennessee off, and John all but had to physically restrain the young girl to keep her from jumping off the stool and taking a swing at the woman who John was praying would keep her mouth shut.

“Oof!” he exhaled as Tennessee’s elbow connected with his gut, and then promptly yanked the girl back by the scruff of her jacket and held her in place against the bar. “Keep a low profile,’ you says. ‘Keep me out of trouble, John,’ you says. Damn it, Nessee. I aint’a gonna keep you from killin’ yerself if you keep getting’ into trouble! Now siddown!” Tennesee plopped onto the bar stool, her arms folded across her chest and an angry scowl across her face as John exhaled a sigh of releif and turned back to the two men who had helped them. He tossed the woman peering in an apologetic nod. “Sorry about that, ma’am. She won’t give ya no trouble.” He shifted and fixed Fletcher and Locksley with appraising stairs, hooking his thumbs into his belt. “Sorry about Nessee there. Like I said. Don’t know when ya shut that mouth. We’re really grateful fer what ya’ll did. We was just comin’ in fer a drink a’fore we had to go bed our horses down fer the night. But seein’ as we’ve already caused quite a stir, I’m a thinkin’ we’d be better off gettin’ on our way.”

He peered closely at Fletcher and Locksley, then shot measured look at Tennessee. “Say…Ya’ll wouldn’t be interested in makin’ a bit o’ money, wouldja?” Teneesee promptly jumped off the bar stool and slugged John in the arm. “By the God, John Marston, if’n yer thinkin’ what I think yer thinkin’, then you can jus' go straight ta hell. I ain’t a getting’ involved in that again!” John clicked his tongue, casting a glance at the two men from beneath his hat, and ignoring Tennessee’s outburst. “Bah, it’s the least we could do ta repay them. ‘Sides, it’s the best Idea I ever had. And it keeps us in the money, don’t it?” Tennessee mumbled something under her breath, before jerking a thumb at Locksley. “I don’t want nothin’ ta do with these idjits no more, John.” And Josh, once again, promptly ignored her as he glanced up at Fletcher and Locksley with a devilish grin. “Ya’ll interested?”

[Kallile]

Insima, naive and blind to the trouble she had about landed herself in, all but skipped towards the group. Her hazel eyes flickered from one face to the next as that unearthly wide grin of hers deepened. "Shucks, she ain't giving me no trouble! Ah'll be fine, thank ya kindly.~" She gave in a plucky reply as she brazenly planted herself on the bar stool right beside Tennessee. She sat there like a proper lady should for all of three seconds before her posture slumped and her hands fell to the seat between her thighs to allow her to lean forward without feeling like she was going to tip over. Her eyes were on the men talking about money for a moment, then she flickered her attention back to Tennessee and flashed another award winning grin. "Ya'll are hunting fer some big payday? Sounds like a barrel'a fun!" She agreed whole heartedly, perhaps not realizing the offer was not meant for her.

Locksley, however, had been quite perplexed after the word "she" had slipped out of John's mouth. His gaze had remained trained to the young woman gutsy enough to go around poking large and dangerous men in the chest for sport. Fletcher, as always, took the lead in the more diplomatic exchange.

"It's alright, there's no harm done. If Locksley were subdued by a few finger jabs to his chest we'd be in much worse shape, I'd like to think." It was hard to hide what most people would call his "good breeding' from his voice and the vocabulary he chose to incorporate into his dialogue, but it couldn't be helped. He toned it back as much as he was able to without sounding like he was speaking to a lower class.

At the mention of making money, Locksley's eyes left Nessee for a split second to seek out Fletcher and give him a small sideways nod. Fletcher returned the gaze and nod to his companion before fixing John with his gaze once more. "You have our interest, Mister Marston, but we'd need to know exactly what kind of activities we'd be signing ourselves up for. If it is a mere treasure hunt like the lovely lady," he motioned to a notedly grim covered Insima, "seems to have agreed to, then we'd be honored to accompany you. However anything seedier...well, we'd have to have deeper discussions."

Locksley by this point had pulled up a chair and spun it around backwards to rest both arms and chin onto the backing. He toyed with the axe on the ground, eyes never leaving Tennessee. "And talk cuts." He added simply.

[MillietheWarrior]

Tennessee folded her arms across her chest, her scowl darkening and deepening with each and every word. “What’re you lookin’ at?” she growled in Locksley’s general direction, her eyes flashing furiously as she remembered John’s command to ‘siddown.’ If it hadn’t been for John, she’d have launched herself at Locksley and attempted to claw his heads out with every bit of strength that she had. But that type of fightin’ was too lady-like for her, and she hated the idea of anyone mistaking her for a lady. As Insima flounced over and plopped herself next to Tennessee, the young woman inched away, her eyes leaving Locksley to shoot Insima a mildly disturbed look. What did this woman think she was doing? John’s proposal hadn’t been an open invitation. Growling to herself, Tennessee leaned away from Insima, her voice gruff as she spoke. “No offense, ma’am, but yer plumb loco.”

Then her eyes immediately darted back to Locksley and settled on glaring at him as angrily as she could from her bar stool. She was vaguely aware of the fact that john had slipped up somewhere in his words; he’d said ’she.’ Tennessee could only hope to God the two men hadn’t caught it, and if they did…well, then it was time for some class-A denying. John ignored the silent stare match his partner was trying to incite, and leaned against the counter, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his worn lips. He flipped his hat up a little with one hand, and tilted his head.

“Well, it’s somethin’ Tennessee and I have done time ta time in a couple o’ diff‘ernt towns. As ya’ll prolly already know, this here little feller is rather popular. Went and got a bounty placed on that stupid lil’ head thar. Which makes fer some interestin’ visits inta town. When we’re gettin’ low on funds, I just wave ol’ Tennessee here ‘round like a white flag, and them sheriffs come runnin’. They throw the little feller in the slammer, and I break in later in the night and grab and run. Good way to get money without havin’ ta do much work. O’ course, it’d be easier if’n I had a few pardners ta help me out. Bustin’ inta them jails…well, it ain’t no cake walk. An I bet yer friend there-”

He jerked a thumb as Locksley, and Tennessee’s glare intensified. “-won’t have no trouble breakin’ through them bars. What do ya say?” He smirked, folding his arms across his chest as he stared across at Fletcher. “As fer cuts…I’m a thinkin’ 60-40...60 in our favor, since Tennessee…well, Tennessee’s gotta do the hardest part by sittin’ in that jail. Some o’ them fellers in thar…they ain’t always too nice, ya know.” Tennessee huffed, and promptly slid off her barstool. She stomped across to John, and smacked his arm as hard as she could. “Hell no! I gotta do more work ‘n that! You know some o’ them are…They ain’t right, John! They just ain’t right!” She turned to fix Locksley and Fletcher with a heated glare. “70-30.”

John rolled his eyes, and glanced at Fletcher, shrugging his broad shoulders. “I’d be more inclined for the 60-40, muhself, Nessee; seems more fair. But it’s up ta ya’ll, mister. I don’t know if I caught yer names, yet either.” John didn’t usually trust people he just met, but these two seemed on the up and up, for the most part. ‘Sides, there was no axe or arrow that could stand up to a good ol’ fashioned bullet. And he had plenty of those if things went south. He raised his eyebrows at Insima as he glanced over and noticed her, then looked back to Fletcher. “She a friend o’ yers?”

[Kallile]

Almost ignoring what was going on right beside him, Locksley contented himself instead with watching the two ladies. Tennessee he had already decided (and oh yes, he had picked up on that word slip on John's part) he could handle with no problem. But the barn-hand who bounced in beside her made him narrow his eyes warily. Women were enough problems on missions without them being completely out of touch with the real danger involved. "Don't see a sign over there that I can't stare." He responded to Nessee with a small grin. Her defensiveness only did well to intrigue him more.

Insima, on the other hand, only giggled when Tennessee told her she was 'plumb loco'. "Ah know!" She agreed, sounding rather surprised that someone else had noticed. "Ain't it grand?" She moved rather suddenly backwards until her back hit the bar and she tapped the top. The bartender rolled his eyes and slid down a relatively small glass of dark ale which Insima cupped with both hands and sipped at eagerly.

Fletcher ignored the peanut gallery and focused on the business at hand. The proposal was an interesting on, and the man folded an arm over his chest and raised the other to rub at his chin thoughtfully. It was a fairly fool-proof plan, really, when you thought about it. Turn someone in, break them back out and run. Nothing much worse than the robberies of the well-to-do that he and Locksley sometimes pulled. Plus, the cut wasn't terrible for having stumbled blindly into the offer.

"Ah, of course, where are my manners. I'm Fletcher and my partner here is Locksley. We've a bit of infamy ourselves in other parts." Fletcher said, casting and eye towards his much larger companion. Locksley shrugged and gave a single nod. "But your offer is a solid on, Marston, and we'll gladly accept." He reached out a hand to shake on the deal as the man had proposed it. Though he knew better than to think he or Lock could outrun a bullet; he wasn't denying their own skills. Should things turn south he felt they could care for themselves and make it out with lives intact. Well, most lives intact...

"I'm afraid we're just meeting for the first time as well." He responded, eyes moving to look at the beer-sipping Insima. Locksley gave a single, gruff chuckle.

"Not watching her back."

Insima, suddenly the center of attention, stopped mid sip and looked around at the group now staring at her. She finished her ale in one gulp and gave an excited hiccup before her mouth began running again. "Oh, Ah can be lots'o help! Ah'm real good at stirring up trouble, and Ah'm sure Ah can get yer bounty raised if'n a big fuss is made n' all." She batted her eyes at the group, realizing she may not be finding her way into an adventure after all. "Oh please? Ah don't want no cut, just ta' tag along. Is that so much to ask?"

Locksley grunted again. "Still not watching her back."

[MillietheWarrior]

“How’s about I put muh fist through yer eye an’ see who’s starin’ then?!” Tennessee snarled, lifting her clenched fist and whirling towards Locksley.  “And you-” she pointed and imperious finger at Insima, actually enunciating her syllables clearly because this girl was flipping crazy and she needed to be told straight up. “-shut up.” She didn’t want to be dealing with all these idiots; all she’d wanted was a drink, and then a nice place to bunk down for the night, even if it was in the middle of the plains. But no; John just had to come into town and had to have a bed and now look where they were. They were suffering because his Nancy-pansy ass couldn’t stand one more night in the desert. “I don’t like this plan, John. I ain’t a doin’ it again! You recollect what happened last time, don’tcha?” Tennessee shuddered, then folded her arms across her chest. “I ain’t a doin’ it.”

Mostly, she didn’t want to work with these people, especially that big dumb ox. She and John could manage to pull this off on their own, and once she got him away from the influence of other people, she’d hash it out with him and they’d figure something out. Right now, all she wanted to do was knock Locksley off his chair and have another drink. She whirled around, coming face to face with an eye-batting Insima, and resisted the urge to knock the drink form her hand and smack her in the head for just being crazy. It was tempting, oh-so-very tempting, but Tennessee managed to restrain herself. “Fine,” she ground out through gritted teeth. “If ever’one is so dead set on me getting’ my ass thrown in jail, then fine. But I swear to the all mighty, John, iff’n what happened last time happens this time, I’mma knock yer head clean offa yer neck.”

She turned and shot Locksley a haughty look, her eyes narrowing to shining, silver-pink slits. “And yers too, just cuz yer face is so dang annoyin’. In fact, if we could leave ya’ll out of this entirely, I wouldn’t be opposed. I don’t need no one watchin’ my back; leastways you. You’d be more liable to get me killed than break me outta somethin’.” She turned back around to the bar, smacking her hand on the wooden top and growling as the bartender quickly set another bottle of whiskey down. She grabbed it by the neck and took a swig, muttering something under her breath that sounded like ‘Big, dumb ox.’ John sighed and rolled his eyes, refocusing his attention on Fletcher (and trying quite hard to forget how crazy Insima seemed to be). “If’n you ain’t opposed to the idea, then I’d say we got ourselves a deal, pardner.” This time, he glanced back at Insima. “And ma’am, that skill o’ yers sounds mighty useful. I bet we could find a couple diff’rnt ways to use it.”

He clapped his hands, smacking Tennessee on the back so unexpectedly, that the girl chocked on her drink and had to pound her chest with a fist to get her breath back. “J-Jack a-a-” she sputtered, before John  just grinned at his new ‘partners.’ “Gentlemen. I have me an idea. Locksley, why don’t you and miss…” He stared strangely at Insima, shaking his head. “Uh, this lady right here, drag Tennessee out on into the streets and raise a big ol’ fuss. Locksley can turn her in fer the money. I’m a’ figuerin’ they might know my trick in a couple states, and they might be wise ta me. So if’n you-” He pointed at the mountain of a man with the axe, and leaned casually against the bar. “-turn in the bounty, then we should be fine. And as fer mister Fletcher and I….Well, we’ll be waitin’ in the winds. Figure we can come and getcha in a couple o’ hours. I got an idea that involves the jail bars, a wall, and a couple o’ horses.” T

ennessee was glaring at Locksley by the time John had finished his ‘grand scheme’ monologue; despite her dislike of the idea in general, she had to admit that it was a good plan. And the bounty was really big. But damn it, why couldn’t she and John do this themselves? She stalked over towards Locksley, and glowered at him; sitting on the chair, he was about eye level, and she leaned in close to his face, her scowl darkening. “Let’s get this over with; I’m a hankerin’ fer a punchin’ bag, and I reckon you’d do just fine fer now.” She was tempted to smack him over the head to emphasize her point, but she decided she was too close within striking distance, and it'd be best if she had enough room to dance away from him.

[Kallile]

"Suspect I would still be staring, considering you'd even be able to reach me." Locksley said with a small grin as he watched Tennessee grow more annoyed by the minute. He nearly did laugh aloud at the clearly-spoken words directed at Insima, the insane woman still bopping around on her chair like a bull outside a slaughter house. Insima, however, didn't seem quite as amused or phased by the telling-off she received. "Ah can't do that, 'cause if'n Ah do that, Ah might think 'o something important ta say! Best ta just keep on talkin', so's Ah don't miss a thought.~" She retorted happily, grinning at the finger pointed at her.

Fletcher shook his head at the scene, giving Locksley a sideways look. His friend may be large, but he was not a big enough man to break up a catfight. No, he was fairly certain after one half-baked attempt Locksley would be more content to sit back and watch. As if on cue, the mountainous man cracked a wide grin. "Have plenty of practice in rescuing. Never had anyone die on my watch."

Then both men focused on John, listening intently to what he proposed they do first. Insima, however, seemed eager to get going. Smacking the half empty glass on the bar (sloshing the drink around in the process) before getting up and saluting to John. "Insima, at yer service! Don't ya worry, Ah'll have 'im in prison a'fore ya can blink!" And then she was outside.

Both men stared out after her, bewildered, before Fletcher could finally speak again. "Alright then, it's  plan. We'll discuss more of the details while we wait, I may have a slightly quieter idea. Locksley, play nice."

The large man, face to face with Tennessee, grinned. "Always, Fletcher." And then he continued to stare the young lady down. He chuckled, apparent only by his bobbing shoulders, and stood back to his full height before reaching back to secure the axe on his back. "Alright then, 'lil feller', let's go give the nice people a show."

He waited for a moment, hoping she'd go first, and just to prod her along he added a lightly whispered "Ladies first."

[MillietheWarrior]

Tennessee purposely ignored the jab at her height. It was hard, considering it was her, but she managed to reign in her temper by gritting her teeth, clenching her fists, and counting to five hundred. Then she counted to a thousand because Insima was talking to her again and she had to remind herself that punching a woman in the face was frowned upon in most societies. She thanked the heavens when the weird woman bounced off her seat and headed outside. She was going to kill John when this was all over. In fact, she was going to kill him before it was all over. She eyed the tall man beside her and contemplated trying to strangle him with his own belt. When he caught her stare, John  shot her a look that said ‘try anything, short stuff, and I’ll string you up by your jacket and let you hang there for the coyotes.’ Tennessee thought better of it, then, and decided that maybe she’d just slip a rattlesnake into his sleeping bag one night instead.

“I ain’t no ‘lil feller,’” Tennessee ground out, managing to bite her tongue and keep from adding an insult to the end of it. She started towards the swinging doors, when Locksley’s comment reached her ears. Quicker than lightning, she whipped around, her face a study of blank, unadulterated shock, before it fell back into it’s customary glower. “I dunno what’cher talkin’ bout, ya stupid mule,” she hissed, careful to keep her voice low. “I ain’t no lady neither. And if’n ya call me that again, I’ll shove that axe o’ yers where the sun don’t shine. Now git outside!” She stomped past him and through the swinging doors, glancing around the street, which seemed fairly deserted but for the odd drifter and Insima, of course. Tennessee pulled her hat from her head, running a hand through her short, chocolate locks, and sighed. This day couldn’t get any worse, could it?

A sudden elbow in her side caused her to stumble forward, and she glanced over her shoulder to see a rather burly looking man eyeing her strangely. His eyes traveled from her face, to her hair, then back again. Tennessee was well aware that she looked more feminine than she wanted to when she didn’t have her hat on. She nearly dropped her hat when the man’s wondering look turned into a leer, and then mentally groaned. Yep, day just got worse. “Hey thar, little lady. Ya’ll lookin’ fer a good time? What’s with the get-up? You got somethin’ to hide?” the man asked as he approached. Tennessee placed a hand on her sidearm, the other still clutching her hat. “Beat it, ya idjit. I ain’t got time fer you!” But the man didn’t seem to get the message, and as he stopped within a few inches of her, Tennessee casually drew her pistol and leveled it right between his eyes; she was faintly disturbed when his leer only broadened and he clamped a hand around her free wrist; oh HELL no. “Git, afore I send that broken brain o’ yers scatterin‘ all ‘round this here town.”


John, meanwhile, leaned up against the bar as Locksley and Tennessee trundled out towards the door. He shook his head, a faintly amused smile dancing across his worn features. “Here ta hopin’,” he muttered, grabbing his discarded and long forgotten glass from the bar and shooting the shot. “Sorry about Tennessee. The lil’ feller don’ get along well with anyone but me.” He removed his hat, running a weary hand through his dark hair. He closed his eyes briefly, wishing he’d thought to take a nap before this all started, and replaced his hat on his head. “So, mister Fletcher. What’s this plan o’ yers? I sure am interested in hearin’ it. ‘Specially if it’ll save us all some trouble.” He glanced briefly at the swinging doors, and frowned.

“Ya think yer pardner can handle this? I mean, turnin’ Tennessee in an’ all. No offense, but the man seems like one o’ them…whatcha call ‘em? Knight in shinin’ armor types. Does he got the guts ta turn my lil’ pardner in, really? It can be a mighty hairy business.” John always hated that part himself; he’d often had to stop himself from putting a bullet in one of the deputies who always liked to handle Tennessee too roughly (Because punching a prisoner in the jaw or knocking them out by kicking them in the head was uncalled for). But Tennessee insisted that it didn’t bother her, and that she could take care of herself. He just hoped that big man with the axe wouldn’t blow their scam by knocking some real sense into the idiots down at the jailhouse.

[Kallile]

When the pair was out the door Insima was already sitting by the horses, hands up beside her face as if she had most suddenly forgotten what it was she was going to do. That is, of course, until the burly gentleman began his leering at Tennessee. Idea renewed, Insima hurdled over the horse stake out and trotted up towards the pair. For her acting drunk wasn't a problem--she was what people liked to call 'drunk on life' all the time. With a wry grin she draped an arm around Tennessee and letting the other run up the arm holding the pistol until they were locked in an awkward hug.

"Pardon mah partner, she don't know when ta drop the act! O'course we're looking for a good time, hunny.~<3" Of course, her plan on how to make this work in their favor was not yet formulated. But, with Insima, very little was formulated ahead of time.

Locksley hung back in the doorway, lifting a smoke from inside his armor plating to light it and watch. Had this been any normal day, he would have reached out and broken the man's arm that was holding onto Tennessee. Or lifted him off the ground with one big fist wrapped around his head (people really loved that one). But tonight he had to play the bad guy--he had to let this play out and hope Tennessee got herself recognized. Stepping in now would give away their plan and would threaten to get all parties involved in more serious trouble. Well, him and the girls anyway. Fletcher was smart enough to keep out of it, and Locksley was big enough he was pretty sure he could keep the girls from any real harm if things went south and they all ended up behind bars. Striking a match against the ribbed armor, he lit the smoke and held it idly between his lips without ever taking a true draw from it. All he needed was the appearance of aloofness.  For now.

Inside, Fletcher ignored the option to drink another round. He needed to be sharp now if everything was to go smoothly. His eyes ventured out the doors where he could still see Locksley's monstrous form hanging just outside. With a grin he nodded his head. "I'm afraid we're both prone to that, but Locksley will do just fine. He's far better at keeping his feelings out of a situation than I am; he will find a way to at least land her in jail. Then he'll let his 'knight in shining armor' act come out. We've been through enough ourselves that I have full confidence in him to remain cold to it until the time comes." And he meant it.

The big man outside did have a heart to match, but Fletcher knew this state of being well. Lacing his fingers together Fletcher slide himself closer to John to keep too many prying ears from hearing. "Horses and the like can always be used for backup, but a little bit of cunning goes quite a ways. With a little ingenuity I believe we could have everything: the reward, your partner returned, and even a jail-house key for your future endeavors. Arrows do provide the best long distance accuracy, and if Insima is willing to sneak in and free the horses in the stable, a few well-placed flaming arrows should do the trick for a small but effective fire to get the whole town in one spot. From there, everything should be fairly simple."

He pulled his hands apart and glanced out the door to make sure things were still going as planned or something close to it. "Of course, a good jailer never leaves his keys about even in an emergency. That's where I would come in" With a grin he lifted John's pistol in front of him--held by a single finger behind the trigger. "It would be hours before this would die down and he could note it was missing. Far enough time for us to be on our merry ways. And I speak from experience when I say many of these jails in towns such as these operate on the same keys."

[MillietheWarrior]

Tennessee growled at the unwanted contact, trying to pry herself out of the woman’s and subsequently, the man’s grip. This was, so far, the worst ‘let’s get Tennessee caught so we can get the money’ situation she’d ever been in. And that was saying something where she was concerned. “Leggo,” she hissed, turning a venomous glare onto Insima. The man was studying the new woman carefully, his gaze jumping back and froth between Insima and Tennessee, before alighting on the younger girl. “Say,” he began in a slow drawl. “Haven’t I seen ya afore? You…” He stared hard at her, and his gaze lifted over her shoulder to the line of shops across the street, where a bevy of wanted posters were hung. Tennessee knew the moment he recognized her, because his eyes widened and his grip tightened.

That was her cue.

With as much force as she could muster, she tore her arm from his grasp, shook Insima off, and leveled her pistol at the man’s head. “I’m jes another face in the crowd,” she drawled, a wicked smile curling up the corners of her lips. “But if’n you don’t believe me, why don’t ya put up ‘er shut up.” The man snarled and stepped forward, drawing his own pistol from his belt. “Reckon that says I oughta bring you in alive,” he growled, as the two circled one another, jerking his head towards the wanted poster. “But I don’t think they mind how alive ya really are. An’ I be they sure would be surprised to find out ya’ll were really a girl under all that dirt. Imagine how much fun they’d have with ya then.” Tennessee shuddered imperceptibly and the implications, but her pistol never wavered. Neither, it seemed, did the man’s. “So who’s yer friend? She wanted to?” He dipped his head towards Insima, and Tennessee scoffed.

“Naw, she’s just some crazy woman who lives here, I reckon. Don’t worry ‘bout her; you got bigger problems right now. Like that gun belt of yers, fer instance.” She held up what looked like a metal clasp for a belt, spinning it around her finger casually. “A belt without a buckle ain’t gonna hold up much of nothin’.” The man’s head dipped down automatically to see his belt, only to realize that the buckle wasn’t his. But by the time he realized he’d been had, Tennessee had darted in and placed a well-aimed elbow to his solar plexus. The man instantly crumpled, his pistol flying from his grip. By now, they had a small audience, and the occasional drifter or night-owl had stopped to stare. A few were murmuring quietly to themselves, their eyes darting between the small cowpoke and the wanted poster. Tennessee straightened, spun her pistol around her finger by the trigger, and holstered it with a ‘shick’ of metal against leather. “Any one else?” she called, her eyes narrowing at the crowd of strangers. “’Cuz if ya ain’t got the guts, then git on outta here.”


John Blinked, and reached for his pistol, holstering it with a grudging smile. “Yer good, Mister Fletcher. Reckon them sticky fingers come in handy every now and again.” He folded his arms in front of him, and tipped his hat up, looking faintly impressed. “Arson and a jail break all in the same day? Well, I think that’s a mighty fine idea. S’long as no one gets hurt, then I’m game.” John didn’t like the idea of anyone getting hurt just for a little bit of money, especially not if it was Tennessee. But more importantly, he didn’t need an entire possess after him for revenge in case someone did die. “Better make sure Insima clears that barn of everyone and everything. Don’t reckon I’d like to be hanged fer murder.”

He cocked his head to the side as he heard Tennessee’s shout, and smiled faintly. “Well, sounds like things’re goin’ along as planned. Now all yer boy’s gotta do is turn Tennesee in…But judgin’ from the way they were eyein’ one another earlier, it ain’t gonna be easy fer him.” He stretched slightly, and crossed his boots at the ankle. “T’ain’t no skin off my back; better the lil’ feller takes all that anger on him than me. That kid sure has a mean right hook. Fights dirty, too.”

[Kallile]

Insima didn't seem to mind when Tennessee was just trying to shrug her off. She did, however, mind when punches started flying. With a yelp she ducked out of the way and started scrambling to get back into the bar. She wasn't seeming to make much headway as the man and Tennessee started circling each other and largely cut off her path, so the crazy lady settled for curling into the fetal position.

Locksley raised an eyebrow as the fight started, but held his ground. He couldn't be too eager. Which he found incredibly hard to do when the man sneered at Tennessee with implications no woman ever wanted to hear. Likewise, it was something that made this particular 'knight in shining armor's' blood boil at the very idea of. His leathery hands clenched into fists just before he reached up to flick away his cigarette. The man lay on the ground, out cold, and now it was his cue. He'd have to mind not to rough her up too much--the man had been speaking loud enough for several people to potentially hear she was a woman. If he could still bring her in kicking and screaming, that'd be her best chance at keeping that secret to herself.

"Think I got plenty of guts to spare...you look small enough besides." He said with a small sneer as he rapped a fist against his armor. To most in the town he probably looked like some sort of mercenary or bounty hunter with his elaborate get-up--all the better to his advantage of remaining undetected. But, just incase..."Finally pinned you down in one town--let's make this one worth the trouble of tracking, hm?"

Not wanting to be the part of any more fighting, Insima took flight for the barn.


Fletcher chuckled and gave the pistol back without fuss. "It's a talent that has helped feed many an orphan, yes." He said before quickly trying to ease the man's fears. "No no, no life loss planned. We've seen where they stack the stables' bedding straw--might singe the stable but shouldn't do any real damage. Just cause enough panic to give us the all-clear. I am not out for any true harm in this venture; it's completely against my code." He sat back and raised a fist to rest his index finger thoughtfully against his upper lip.

"No, I imagine not. But Locksley isn't one to short his performances. He won't let Tennessee off easily. As for fighting dirty...I feel I should have mentioned earlier that there's a full suit of armor under his clothing. Your partner will find most dirty kicks or punches rather unsatisfying. just wouldn't do to have my best man without proper protection for our line of work."

[MillietheWarrior]

Tennessee’s left eye twitched at the ‘small’ remark, and a dark smile tugged at the corner of her lips. If she could reach that stupid head of his, she slam it into the wall. Too bad he was right when he said she was little. “Ah’ve seen you afore,” she rumbled, raising one delicate eyebrow. “So yer the one who’s been tailin’ me since Amarillo. Pleasure to make yer acquaintance. Too bad it won’t be fer long.” Well, might as well make the story look legit, right? Tennessee wondered about the merits of shooting that armor of his, and whether or not it could stop a bullet. She didn’t really want to kill him (okay, maybe a little) so she holstered her pistol and drew a large hunting knife from her belt. i

It was nearly as long as her forearm, and with the expert way she twirled it in her hand, she was an expert as using it. “Come on then, ya stupid mule. Let’s finish this.” She watched him warily as he stepped off the porch, and the moment his boot touched the ground, she darted forward. She was surprisingly agile, considering the bulk of weapons she carried beneath her long coat, and she was sure her small size gave her the advantage here. Normally,. She’d have darted in and out and left her opponent full of holes, but this man was supposed to be her ‘partner’ of sorts, and this type of dance couldn’t be a deadly one.

So instead of leaving him full of holes, she aimed for his armor and pretended to be stunned when the knife didn’t penetrate it, but instead slid off it with the sick sound of metal scraping metal. “What th’hell?!” she snarled, stumbling back a few inches convincingly and staring at the spot she’d nicked with the knife as though not realizing how she hadn’t run him through. “What are ya, some kinda tin can?!” This time when she aimed, she aimed for his arm; it wouldn’t be any fun if he didn’t get sliced up somehow.

---

“Orphans, eh? Had muh share of dealin’ with that lot. S’what Tennessee was…well, thanks to me, at least.” his face darkened slightly, and then cleared when he realized his partner probably wouldn’t appreciate him talking about her past at all. She hated when he brought stuff like that up. John wished she was still a little kid, all bright eyed and bushy-tailed and happy to give him a hug or be tucked into bed and didn’t mind it when he called her ‘squirt.’ She was still a kid to him, but she’d grown up, and she’d grown up hard, and this Tennessee was tougher than steel and seemed to have forgotten what love and kindness were…and he was afraid it was all his fault. He shouldn’t have raised her like a little boy; he should’ve raised her like a little girl.

No, scratch that; he should’ve found her a momma to look after her and turn her into the woman she should’ve been. God, he’d made her into a mini-version of himself. John groaned and let his head fall forward until his chin bumped his chest. Man, he was an idiot. “Well, then ah feel sorry fer both o’ them. One or the other is prolly gonna need some doctorin’ when this is all done.” He tilted his head, and turned towards the door, glancing at Fletcher. “When d’ya ‘spose we should head out? Sounds like the brawl’s done commenced.” John was too tired to think; he just wanted his damn money, and a damn bed, and a damn good night’s sleep. Damn it.