Art nodded at the Marshal. "Nice ta meetya, Marshal Broaddale. An while me speech may no make it sound so, I do be from Mizzouri. I guess tha' be makin' those from the C.S.A. me countrymen." He shrugged, as he really wasn't particularly fond of either of the countries to the east.

He then spoke quietly to Matt. "Do ya know the bartender? It does no look like we be so welcome here."

"I don't make the rules." Dandy Don, the barkeep, says. "I'm not allowed to serve them, though i won't toss 'em out into the storm. I just don't want to upset the other customers. Not after that rude Pawnee from earlier."

"Oh, don't worry about me or Miss Hewitt here." The shadowy man in the top hat says. He looks at his pool partner. "It was Hewitt, yes?"

((OOC: Actually, Kitty Leroy was born in Michigan, so not so much.

You can't see his eyes, but he does bear a resemblance to Gary Oldman, yes))

Matt indicated Art, "Well he's from Missouri, anyway."

He moved closer to the pool table, keeping half an eye out on the rest of the room. He set his hat down on the table and ran a hand through his close-shorn hair. He shot a smile at Daisy.

"What's the game, friends? 8-ball? Bank pool?"

"Oh, this is just a friendly rack-up." The shadowy man in the top hat says. "We haven't laid any bets yet. Incidentally, good to see you again, Marshal Broaddale."

There really ought to be more of him visible, but even up close it's hard to make out details of the man. Though Matt definitely recognizes his voice.

Matt patted his pockets in mock-searching.

"I'm a little dry this week anyway, until I get to the bank. My rainy day money happened to be in my luggage, which has since gone missing," he said, "I'm sorry, sir, my eyes are adjusting from the outside. Would you mind stepping into the light?"

Daisy grins at Matt, but tilts her head a bit at the interaction between him and the shadow man; should the latter take his attention off her entirely, she'll make an odd little flicking flexion of the fingers with the hand that's on the cue.

Maddox eyes the newcomers warily, sips his beer and continues staring pensively at his map, making little additions now and then.

In reply to Matthew Broaddale (msg # 43):

The shadow man gives Matt a hearty chuckle. "I'm afraid that won't help. Your eyes are not the problem. But I'll be glad to have your luggage delivered to your new lodgings. Where are you staying now?"

Maddox, over at the bar, recognizes the shadow man's voice as well.

Matt sneered a second, then his face fell.

"I-..." He couldn't remember. He recomposed himself and straightened his vest.

"I would prefer it if you could locate Jane Canary and the pistol of Jack McCall." he said quietly, pulling a cue off the wall, "I'd also appreciate it if you would quietly commend yourself into my custody, but I don't imagine that's as likely."

The shadow man chuckled. "Then perhaps I shall have it delivered here. It seems as good a meeting place as any." he says. "And you are in luck! Calamity Jane is currently being seen to by an army medic at the Grand Central Hotel. Jack McCall's pistol is still in the hands of that houngan, Black Jack Bordeaux, who has been staying at the High Times Saloon. And even if I were to submit this form into your custody, it wouldn't last long enough for you to do more than look foolish. There is nothing here but smoke, mirrors, and will holding it all together. I've had quite enough of being accosted while going about my business. This simulacrum allows me the freedom to do what I need to and remain safely out of your reach. I must thank my brother for teaching me this trick." He banks a ball, but it skitters off the mark, and he sighs. "Ah, well. Can't win them all. Your shot, Miss Hewitt."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:37, Thu 23 Feb 2017.

Art's ears perked up a bit (something one could visibly see if he weren't wearing a hood) at what the shadowy figure had to say. He took a step closer and addressed the fellow. "Beggin' yer pardon, sir, bu' didja say Calamity Jane? An' tha' she's in need of a doctor?"

Calamity Jane was one part of the laundry list of things he had been sent to town with. He mentally went through his checklist, and then mentally rearranged things. Perhaps delivering a message to her would be easier than most of the other stuff. Best to get all the clutter done first, then focus on the big stuff.

Daisy starts a little and plays a very distracted shot with predictable results. "Dangit."

Scowling a little, Maddox makes sure his pistol is in easy reach and leans back a bit to look for the mirrors.

Matt turned to Art, "Rog here says she's in the Grand Central."

He turned back to Sebastian. He looked at the table, then to the shadowy figure in front of him.

"You much of a gambling man, Roger?"

In reply to Art C. Wiley (msg # 49):

"What an echo we have in here." The shadowy figure says as he lines up a shot. He strikes well, and sinks first one, then another, before missing a third. "Yes. Poor Miss Canary is suffering from a concussion, courtesy of Cousin Maddox's rough handling during his arrest of her after the Gem fire."

The shadow man grins. "I am, if the stakes are right. What did you have in mind?"

Belle seemed more amused with the antics than anything.  She liked people with obvious similar interests, but those were rare.  In their absence she would settle for people who were amusingly odd and she had encountered a good many of those today.  In another bitter irony, it never once occurred to Belle that she might be considered amusingly odd by some.  Or at least plain odd.

"It may well be more pure sir, it may well be, but I trust no tobacconist's product any more, for good or ill.  Still, a visitor from the continent?  How curious.  I've not encountered a self-admitted continental European since I had to translate for a Frenchmen who wanted to get to the Maze as soon as possible, and that was some time ago.  Before that, it was a Flemish man who made ridiculous claims of recovering some Egyptian amulet.  Can you believe the ridiculous stories some people will tell?

"But you'll forgive me, my manners are terrible today, as I have become unfocused.  Belle Ivers, of no particular appellation beyond that of the Iron Dragon Rail Line, presently."  Belle's story had some apparent truth to it.  A close inspection of her hand bore evidence that she tried to keep them clean, a semi-permanent layer of soot and engine grease seemed to never quite escape her.  "Well perhaps I am also called Firehair here lately, which I'd never thought of until present, but if it follows the native cultural convention accurately I shall not oppose it.  Their culture seems to have a somewhat insular quality, as do many others, and an acceptable identity would be a useful starting point if I am to ever obtain any cultural understanding whatsoever.

"Now if I might impose on your assistance sir... this Herculean gentleman here seems rather... amiss, though sincere.  I believe very much he should meet this Miss Wells.  It is my sincere hope she knows him and will be able to assist.  He seems lost.  Sadly I do not believe his arrival party cares for my person or presence very much, which I cannot in good conscience take offense to given how... confused the poor lambs seem to be, yet perhaps I am not the best person to bid him enter and wait."

Matt sighted down the cue, checking exactly how ungodly warped it was.

"Eight ball. Miss a shot, answer a question honestly and fully. I win, you and I have a face to face. You win..." he paused, "well, what do you want?"

He looked at Daisy.

"Once your game with Daisy is done, of course."

Daisy picks up an easy score while the shadow man considers this.

"What do I want? hmmm..." he watches Daisy miss a second ball by inches. He takes a shot...and completely shanks it. The cueball hits the pocket instead of the intended target. "Scratch. Damn." The shadowy figure looks over at Matt. "Well, in the spirit of full honesty, I want the Special Services Agency to back off of their investigation into the affairs of my family, and of the organization I now represent. I want that mountain man who attacked me and my brother in the Bella Union dead, locked up, or at the very least out of my hair for the foreseeable future. Likewise, I'd very much appreciate it if former deputy Jackie Wells were muzzled somehow, or bothered someone else. None of you people have the faintest idea what I've done for this community. There's this pernicious idea floating around that simply because of my bloodline, I must be up to 'bad things' which 'must be stopped at all costs.' You people don't even know me. What I am doing, what the entire Enlightened Society is doing, is for the eventual benefit of all mankind."

Daisy misses a shot, and the shadow man takes aim. This time he sinks one, two, three balls in a row before missing. Daisy's striped balls now fill the table. The Shadow Man only has a 3 and the 8-ball left.

Matt was quiet a moment.

"I can't speak as to the Secret Service, Mr. Sebastian," he said, looking at the table, "And I can't say as I know much of the Enlightened Society. But, if you win-" at this he stepped closer to the table and knelt down, eyeing the lie Sebastian had left Daisy.  Satisfied, he stood again.

"Not to play your game, Daisy, but if you put 11 into 14 right here, you can get it and 12 into that pocket in one, and pick up 11 into the upper right on the second shot. That gives you options," he advised.

"If you win, Mr. Sebastian, I'll talk to West, Bullock, anyone else I can about backing off, as long as you stay out of trouble. And you'll have won a stay of my hand, at any rate."

As the two men moved on to other pursuits, gambling for high stakes in this case, Art stood idly near the entrance waiting for this Jackie Wells. He did want to find Calamity Jane to deliver his message, but the Woman who Remembers the Future was more important at the moment.

In reply to Matthew Broaddale (msg # 57):

Daisy nods, takes a shot...and gracefully sinks the eightball. She sighs, tosses the cue on the table, and stomps off to the bar to have a drink.

"Well, it would appear that we have an opening." The shadow man says. He picks up the pool cue, sets it aside, and begins pulling the balls out of the pockets.

"So. Each missed shot, from either of us, allows the other to get one truthful answer to a question of their choice. If you win, we meet face to face. If I win, you use your influence to get my annoyances to back off. Do I have that right?"

Outside Moses sat in the rain next to the brooding Sioux, quietly humming a song, his fingers slowly turning his staff round and round.
[Language unknown: "Erinon ce wheblerutons... ro befo romin ted tin ndho, Hiprwa Nti?"]

"My dear, I am from Vienna. We are the capital of ridiculous stories!"

Leopold shrugged. [Language unknown: "Wh ousan us wilad ic hience red riwer p ithconnce ereviroertic. Ear constrnte ntioveone ceriit sonaveeve mock-utiopl asthiswaswas, nc, icro not acie? It i wer oveeraint chos noutpo resartillerekor."]



"I believe Firehair suits you quite well, not just because of physical attributes, but I sense a fiery personality as well". Leopold winked at her, letting go of her hand."

"Now if I might impose on your assistance sir... this Herculean gentleman here seems rather... amiss, though sincere.  I believe very much he should meet this Miss Wells.  It is my sincere hope she knows him and will be able to assist.  He seems lost.  Sadly I do not believe his arrival party cares for my person or presence very much, which I cannot in good conscience take offense to given how... confused the poor lambs seem to be, yet perhaps I am not the best person to bid him enter and wait."
</quote>

Leopold looked over at Moses, sitting in the mud, his long coat parted, revealing a muscular chest.
"He is very interesting. I have met Ms. Wells before, but I do not see how she would be able to help him. And this indian seems to be like an anchor to him. I do not believe a whole regiment could remove him."
He shook his head, clearly dismayed at the poor man's situation.
"Would you like to wait inside or rather stay here with him? I am completely at your service, Madame."

Matt twisted some chalk on the end of his cue.

"That's the size of it," he said. He set his cue against the table and held out his hand to the shadwo.

"Very well. I accept." The shadow says. "You break."

((OOC: You'll be making an Agility or Gambling check. Each success and raise sinks one ball, but then you miss and the other player gets to go. Once you're out of your initial 7 balls, you have to call the Eight Ball shot, which means you have a -2 penalty on your roll. A critical failure means you sink the 8-ball early and lose.

However, I'm ending this thread, so it'll go on the Chapter 6.3: There Will Come A Reckoning thread.))