(( Continued from here; @garrison-generations ))
A swig of coffee, a flutter of the newspaper--to anyone else, Dero would have looked distracted, perhaps too tired to be paying attention to what was going on around him. However he wasn’t one to let his guard down so easily; he was alert as ever, despite his lack of sleep trying its hardest to get the better of his steel will.
The moment he caught ear of a scuffle outside, the gunslinger had set his cup down and was already on his feet, trying to keep his itching trigger finger off of his holster. It was perhaps nothing too serious; small skirmishes and fights weren’t all that uncommon and usually sorted themselves out. However he was one to scope these things out. Just in case. You never knew when--
The sound of a gunshot rang loud and clear, almost like a rude greeting when he stepped foot out of the inn. A chill passed though his body, his gun immediately in his hand. His boots kicked up dust while he quite nearly flew to the source of the sound, his bright blue eye widening with horror when he saw the sight before him.
Jem, a woman he considered a good friend, sprawled on the ground in pain as blood seeped from her shoulder, and the man who shot her readying himself to make the finishing blow. A surge of burning rage set him into motion. While Jem was merciful, Dero was anything but and didn’t hesitate for a moment to deliver a killing shot--though in his haste to Jem’s side, he didn’t bother to check that he had actually done the bandit in, though he was satisfied to hear the blood curdling scream the man produced when the shot hit its mark.
Now on his knees at Jem’s side, Dero’s coarse hands were surprisingly gentle as he started to examine her wound and her vitals, swearing under his breath, “Jem,” he called firmly, “Can you hear me?” he ripped his jacket off of his shoulders to use as a makeshift bandage of sorts, making way to try and stop the bleeding.
