"Why?" Wolfwood casts a grin over his shoulder. "Are you a crook?"
Not that he'd care. Occasionally, a crook is better than an honest man to work with. They can generally take care of themselves fairly well, and tend to come with useful skills -- as long as you don't mind watching your back.
The station is near one of the town's two saloons, and Wolfwood can see a few people waiting, already. All of them look like out-of-towners: a few wear the faded finery appropriated by what passes for the elite (that girl in the nice dress, she must be the daughter of a mayor or governor -- important, judging by the boulder of a man skulking around nearby, glancing suspiciously at every movement).
"Soon, hopefully," he says, glancing at the horizon. The second sun has risen by now, and the day is getting hot, rapidly. Pointing, he indicates a small cloud of dust in the distance.
no subject
Not that he'd care. Occasionally, a crook is better than an honest man to work with. They can generally take care of themselves fairly well, and tend to come with useful skills -- as long as you don't mind watching your back.
The station is near one of the town's two saloons, and Wolfwood can see a few people waiting, already. All of them look like out-of-towners: a few wear the faded finery appropriated by what passes for the elite (that girl in the nice dress, she must be the daughter of a mayor or governor -- important, judging by the boulder of a man skulking around nearby, glancing suspiciously at every movement).
"Soon, hopefully," he says, glancing at the horizon. The second sun has risen by now, and the day is getting hot, rapidly. Pointing, he indicates a small cloud of dust in the distance.
"There."