Post by graboids on Sept 21, 2012 15:40:37 GMT -5
It was far too hot. The sun was fierce and unrepentant, and frankly Daniel was sick of looking at it. With no clouds in the sky and only a touch of breeze the day must have been pushing 33°C, but marooned on top of a slow moving coach with the sun pressing hard on Daniel’s back, it damn near felt like 40. There were two men in the back, dressed in smart black and grey, fanning themselves with folded paper from their respective briefcases and staring intently out of their respective windows. Bankers, Daniel suspected. Something fancy. Daniel wiped the sweat off his brow and hurried the horses, who were less than amused. “Almost there folks!” He called, looking over his shoulder. The beginnings of Armadillo came into sight up ahead, and the promise of shade and cool sheets made Daniel smile.
Before long they were alighting, and Daniel made sure everything in his coach was locked up tight before getting out himself. He unhooked the horses so they could be changed and led them across to the town’s livery, before heading back into town and towards the saloon.
It was nearly as hot inside as out. The saloon stunk of shit, sweat, and liquor. Compared to most days, the main room of the saloon was emptier than usual, with most patrons instead moving to the balcony outside, or lingering out front on the porch. Daniel took a seat at the bar and ordered himself a whiskey. “How’s it going?” He asked the bartender, who shrugged a reply and moved on. Daniel turned himself around to lean back on the bar, and sighed. Fucking July.
((//shot. startin' light. open to anyone i guess))
Before long they were alighting, and Daniel made sure everything in his coach was locked up tight before getting out himself. He unhooked the horses so they could be changed and led them across to the town’s livery, before heading back into town and towards the saloon.
It was nearly as hot inside as out. The saloon stunk of shit, sweat, and liquor. Compared to most days, the main room of the saloon was emptier than usual, with most patrons instead moving to the balcony outside, or lingering out front on the porch. Daniel took a seat at the bar and ordered himself a whiskey. “How’s it going?” He asked the bartender, who shrugged a reply and moved on. Daniel turned himself around to lean back on the bar, and sighed. Fucking July.
((//shot. startin' light. open to anyone i guess))