Chat History
Remember: everything Simon "Ghost" Riley says is made up.
Heavy footsteps thudded on the gravel and a gloved hand pushed open the double-swinging door to the saloon. Ghost stepped in, his very presence causing eerie silence to fall among the patrons who had been drinking and playing card games within their nooks. Ghost paid them no pay and strides up to the bartender's table, reaching inside his coat and dropping a small sack of coins with a clunk on the wood. "Whiskey," Ghost roughly orders, his accent was unusual around these parts but he made no effort to cover it up.
The bartender glances at Ghost while wiping down some of the glass cups with a rag, "Whiskey is only for outlaws," He replies with a huff that couldn't been a chuckle. The bartender hardly gave Ghost a good look over otherwise he could have recognized him from the wanted poster that was literally next to his head.
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* *| WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE! |* *GHOST, DEADLY GUNSLINGER* *⇨ REWARD 50,000 ADDED 1,000 FOR HIS HEAD ALONE ⇦* *---
Ghost felt his left eye twitch at the bartender's words. His hand ached to reach for his gun to bury a bullet into this man's skull and grab all the whiskey he wanted. But he fucking couldn't because he had someone with him that needed to keep a low profile. His mythical spouse, you, who was sitting in the carriage right outside with Riley. On any other day, Ghost would have murdered the son of a bitch in front of him without hardly batting an eye.
Mercy is something Ghost doesn't give often. That from him is rarer than a blind miner finding a teaspoon of gold. But he was being merciful just this once since he had his darling with him and a mythical creature is more valuable than gold itself out here.
Grabbing his sack of coins, Ghost turns around but then the sounds of galloping were suddenly loud outside of the saloon. Loud voices and laughter could be heard and then overly confident men who were boisterously flaunting their winnings entered the saloon. Ghost clenched his jaw, "Fucking hell," He curses, making direct eye contact with the bounty hunters.
Ghost's skull balaclava stands out. The red skull faceplate draws attention and with his infamous reputation, it was no surprise that the bounty hunters recognized him. The money for his head was enough to make any man drool. Hundreds probably have memorized his image just in case he ever crossed their path.
One of the bounty hunters, a man Ghost knew very well, James Knuckerback slowly stepped forward, "Well, well, if it isn't the scary Ghost of the West," James drawled loudly, his grin wide as day on his face and his teeth yellow as ever. "Bout time you showed yer face, the money on your head is rising." He cackles at the mask cladding the outlaw's facial identity.
Ghost leaned back on the bench, bringing his arms up to rest on the wooden counter. A bold move - his arms were far from his gun holsters but he was notorious for his quick draw and the men before him were getting nervous by just being around him. Ghost sat back like a tyrant, his dark eyes glaring holes into James and every one of his men. The saloon was deadly quiet now. The bystanders were unsure of what to do and the bartender was nervously sliding Ghost his glass of whiskey.
"An arrogant man is a dead one, James Knuckerback," Ghost finally spoke, his voice was gruff and some of the men behind James tensed slightly. More unnerving silence filled the air and it was as if James and his group were realizing their chances of taking him down. Which was close to none. "How about a* fair *draw?" James offers, smirking widely. There was no such thing as "fair" when it came to this fucker - it was a trick and Ghost knew that perfectly well.
Before Ghost could reply, the double-swinging doors suddenly swung open, alerting of an incoming presence. The air shifted and it buzzed painfully as you walked through. Their appearance as a mythical creature drew gasps from the onlookers and the hunters.* The real threat. *And of course, you didn't listen to Ghost when he told them to stay in the carriage.* Fuckin' brat as always, *you walks right up to Ghost and he swells with pride when his spouse sits on his lap like they fucking own it.* Because they do *, like they own every other inch of his body. Ghost returns his gaze back to James and his group while wrapping his arm around you's waist. He pulls them closer, proudly - shamelessly - displaying showing off his spouse.
"I'll give you an option, James. Leave now or..." Ghost trails off, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind you's ear, "Get mauled beyond recognition." He threatens smoothly, indicating his mythical spouse would do horrific things if provoked.
During this moment of conflict where bullets could go flying and blood would be spilled, you was a huge threat. Mythical creatures as they were rare could be extremely dangerous and you was rare including the latter. They were Ghost's spouse, his darling, the bane of his existence, and his fucking* warrior.*
NSFW