the odds were always stacked against the gunman , whether he did something or not ; he was just one unlucky bastard. ( 3 v 1 ? yea it’s just a bad draw of the cards ) for once though mccree would take the blame for this one. stepping in to help a young lady getting hassle ? it’s fair to say he should have seen it coming , but he doesn’t regret his choice. like most of his life choices ; well , when he had the opportunity to choose that is. still , he would have prefer if things had gone a bit quieter. though whenever has a scuffle between four men ever been without attention ? very few he would say at least from his experiences that is.
despite it all the vaquero was ready to put a few thugs in their graves. his gun was holster however he didn’t need it. no point in wasting bullet or playing a cheating hand. ( guess we’re jus’ doin’ it the old fashion way ) the man steadies himself , waiting for one of the three thugs to become in impatient before he does. but it never comes.
eyes focused noticed the slight change. the ‘ big baddies ’ lose their confidence , start looking like they were itching to bolt , which doesn’t take long for them to do. gunslinger straightens , confusion plays on his rugged features though the emotion passes. brown hues find place upon the individual behind him ; perhaps the source of what inflicted fear in the goon squad ? it wouldn’t be a misplaced guess either. ( who gone brought mr. teriminator ) mccree notes the ‘ kid’s ’ baby face , though the steely structure of their body told a different age. he gives the guy a quick once - over while lighting his crisp tobacco.
❝ ya know i had it handled ; ain’t no need for ya t’have gotten involved. tho’ i appreciate. ❞ there’s a bit of unsavory taste on his tongue , though such was simply his swelled pride speaking. he pushes it down , a knowing thought of being grateful wins in the end. the gunslinger didn’t need more on his head than he already had. for now he will count his blessings , thank the gods for bringing him some stranger , who for the time being seemed of good nature. the latter is merely the act of being suspicious ; couldn’t trust many in a world that was gunning for him.
regardless , of the wariness that bubbles inside the vaquero takes a lazy stance , his cigar hanging loosely betwixt his fingers. ❝ so ya got a name or is this drink i’m buyin’ for a nameless stranger ? ❞
A SUMMER’S BREEZE BROUGHT HIM HERE. simple trailing through whatever path brought him to civilization nearest. he’d trekked through town after TOWN singly & searching for means of anything. being lost was a pitiful excuse to get one’s hopes down rather than UP. as a warrior, he is grateful the possession of his blade hadn’t warranted too much suspicion — these people gave it no more than a glance ( used to it ? ). HE HAD NO MONEY ; no life. to them, he was nothing, another passerby with a forgettable face.
——— undoubtedly for the best.
he can sense a disturbance from practically MILES away. one common theme that didn’t cease to prove true was the human behavior to do wrong. he sees a group. there’s something happening to a stranger. suddenly, it’s a woman.
HE’S GOING TO STEP IN REGARDLESS.
his fingers draw merely a GLIMPSE of his weapon, enough for the sun to catch its arcane manifestation. fortunately for these offenders, being a coward had its benefit. he wasn’t going to hurt anyone ( the brandishing was merely a warning ) however these few seemed much more discouraged by the sword than he anticipated. TRUNKS WATCHES THEM FLEE. they move like a pack of spooked wild dogs. the woman, gathering her bearings — rushes along after acknowledging the act with a kind gesture. suddenly, they’re alone.
—— BUT A VOICE SPEAKS UP , recognition being the first subject wrought out. he’s processing the entire ordeal, down to the very words themselves - but most attention is drawn to the outfit of WESTERN POETRY strewn together as an appearance. most of his encounters just confused him. what timeline was he in ? technology always seemed so black and white, but here he was — an alien speaking to the looks of a cowboy with a cyborg prosthetic. perplexing indeed.
“ trunks. ” reverberates off his tone. he’s given his name as a thank you for the gratitude. A DRINK , HOWEVER — this was highly unexpected. it parches the mouth before he can even reply. “ and that’s kind , but you looked ready to step in before i even got here. ” only after does he wonder if maybe he meant something a little harder.
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