The man most likely sitting on a bar stool before you is dressed neatly, in a white shirt and a vest, but the clothes have seen better days, and the beat-up felt hat pulled low over smoky grey eyes seems to indicate the this barfly is better left alone.

That is, until he nonchalantly pulls the stool next to him out with his foot and flashes you a weary but sincere smile. If you were to look down from that smile, you'd see a strong frame and body, a Remington Derringer in a quickdraw holster on his belt, and a faded, wicked looking bowie knife tucked into the belt right next to the faded, dirty badge that reads US MARSHAL.