Hannibal carried his sack over his shoulder as he baked in the open air. His mask was beginning to wear out and he needed a new one, as well as a new set of clothes, his rags were beginning to wear thin. He made his way through the town where he was meant to meet his contact. His sack was full of various knicks and knacks asked for by his current buyer. They were totally unconnected to the untrained eye and appeared to be totally legal, however Hannibal knew enough to take an educated guess what they were for: explosives.
He wandered around and took out a scrap of paper, words scribbled down in hasty writing. "Um..." Hannibal struggled to read it, "'meet guy at Silver Dollar Saloon. He's buyin'. Okay looks like I'm here." He readjusted his sack as he shambled into the establishment, though that was perhaps too clean a word for a saloon. Still this place was certainly better than most he had seen in his, admittedly limited, travels. The bar was filled with lively banter and piano music though on his way in he saw a few men outside drunk and rambling. They seem pretty mad, best steer clear. Hannibal glanced around for his contact, he didn't know what he looked like but he knew a name, and was told he would be waved over by him. A man at a nearby table gave a sharp whistle making Hannibal turn to him.
He walked over and asked, "McGregor?" The man nodded and Hannibal took a seat across from him. McGregor was a chubby man with a black leather jacket and white vest with dark green shorts and beige boots. He had black stubble and a mullet. "I have your-"
"Shut up dickhead," Hannibal's tone was hushed, "Gunslinger's over there." Hannibal turned his head but an inch and McGregor snapped his fingers. "Don' look a' her dumbass!" he whispered loudly. "Go somewhere else I'll pick ir up la'er."
"What?" Hannibal questioned. "Why, I'll just give it to you here and pay me, I need a new mask today."
"Yeah and I willl pay you today jus' no' righ' now y'hear?" It was a statement but he phrased it like a question.
"No you're just gonna skip out on me. I'm sick of people skipping out on me its happened too many times, just pay me." Hannibal had had three jobs turn out unpaid for him in the past six months he didn't want that to happen again.
"Stop being u'reasonable kid!" the man leaned over the table, "if we do ir here she'll be all over us. Feel like sharing a cell tonigh'?"
"She's not after you, if she was she'd have done it by now she's a bounty hunter, and bounty hunters don't wait, at least not the ones I've seen. They swoop in as soon as they can see you."
"Oh what and you've had 'sperience with boun'y hun'ers?" he said mocking Hannibal's age.
Hannibal shook his head and looked at the short round table they were sat at. "More than you'd think actually."
"Wharever, I jus' now I ain' payin' you here boy. Mee' me once she's outta here," McGregor scoffed.
"You're just paranoid," Hannibal tried to reason.
"And you're gerrin' on my las' damn nerves so if you don' wan' me ta plug your belly burron then you bes' watch your damn mouth!" He looked Hannibal dead in the face with a stern stare.
Hannibal leaned back in his chair and sighed. "You can't "plug" me while she's here. So it looks like we're waiting on this table until she's gone." He avoided eye contact with the man, hoping to keep his nerve up, though underneath the table his hands were shaking uncontrollably. There was no way Hannibal would be faster than this guy to reach his gun, even if he was he'd probably drop it and even if he didn't do that he wouldn't be able to shoot. He was never able to shoot.
"You're bad at business kid." The man scowled and finished his drink before ordering another.
He wandered around and took out a scrap of paper, words scribbled down in hasty writing. "Um..." Hannibal struggled to read it, "'meet guy at Silver Dollar Saloon. He's buyin'. Okay looks like I'm here." He readjusted his sack as he shambled into the establishment, though that was perhaps too clean a word for a saloon. Still this place was certainly better than most he had seen in his, admittedly limited, travels. The bar was filled with lively banter and piano music though on his way in he saw a few men outside drunk and rambling. They seem pretty mad, best steer clear. Hannibal glanced around for his contact, he didn't know what he looked like but he knew a name, and was told he would be waved over by him. A man at a nearby table gave a sharp whistle making Hannibal turn to him.
He walked over and asked, "McGregor?" The man nodded and Hannibal took a seat across from him. McGregor was a chubby man with a black leather jacket and white vest with dark green shorts and beige boots. He had black stubble and a mullet. "I have your-"
"Shut up dickhead," Hannibal's tone was hushed, "Gunslinger's over there." Hannibal turned his head but an inch and McGregor snapped his fingers. "Don' look a' her dumbass!" he whispered loudly. "Go somewhere else I'll pick ir up la'er."
"What?" Hannibal questioned. "Why, I'll just give it to you here and pay me, I need a new mask today."
"Yeah and I willl pay you today jus' no' righ' now y'hear?" It was a statement but he phrased it like a question.
"No you're just gonna skip out on me. I'm sick of people skipping out on me its happened too many times, just pay me." Hannibal had had three jobs turn out unpaid for him in the past six months he didn't want that to happen again.
"Stop being u'reasonable kid!" the man leaned over the table, "if we do ir here she'll be all over us. Feel like sharing a cell tonigh'?"
"She's not after you, if she was she'd have done it by now she's a bounty hunter, and bounty hunters don't wait, at least not the ones I've seen. They swoop in as soon as they can see you."
"Oh what and you've had 'sperience with boun'y hun'ers?" he said mocking Hannibal's age.
Hannibal shook his head and looked at the short round table they were sat at. "More than you'd think actually."
"Wharever, I jus' now I ain' payin' you here boy. Mee' me once she's outta here," McGregor scoffed.
"You're just paranoid," Hannibal tried to reason.
"And you're gerrin' on my las' damn nerves so if you don' wan' me ta plug your belly burron then you bes' watch your damn mouth!" He looked Hannibal dead in the face with a stern stare.
Hannibal leaned back in his chair and sighed. "You can't "plug" me while she's here. So it looks like we're waiting on this table until she's gone." He avoided eye contact with the man, hoping to keep his nerve up, though underneath the table his hands were shaking uncontrollably. There was no way Hannibal would be faster than this guy to reach his gun, even if he was he'd probably drop it and even if he didn't do that he wouldn't be able to shoot. He was never able to shoot.
"You're bad at business kid." The man scowled and finished his drink before ordering another.