9 O'clock on a Saturday (Open)

Rozencratz stood behind the bar at his tavern, the light dim, and the sound of the light rain tap tapping on the roof. Rozencratz gripped a glass in his claw, absent mindedly wiping it with a rage. All the while, his golden, predator eyes scanned his bar for any sign of trouble. The tavern was sparsely populated, the weather keeping some customers away. To his right, near the centre of his bar, a unicorn and pegasus sat at a table, enjoying drinks, food, and the company of each other. In one of the back corners, a group of four earth ponies sat around a table, a card game going on between them. Rozencratz made a mental note to keep an eye on them. Sometimes card games would degenerate into something not quite as friendly. He placed the glass down, and picked another one up. He contemplated telling his chef to go home for the night. "We won't be getting much more cootumers." He thought. "I could handle eet myself." He began to wipe the second glass. "Hopefully something will liven thees up."

Rozencratz turned his head. An old, dusty, abandoned piano sat in a corner. "Maybe if I learned to play eet. I could pool in a regular crowd." He thought, and smiled to himself.

(Leading off from this topic to here. https://mlp-fim-oc-rp.rpg-board.net/t418p30-discreetly-going-about-town#12215)

Silver entered the saloon, keeping an eye on the pony not far behind him. He kept his distance and almost never moved his eyes off him. Once a fair bit into the saloon, he waited on Sureshot to take a seat so that he may pick a seat to his own liking from him.

The very entrance of them added a new level of tension. It was clear these two had something between them.

Sureshot sat down with ceremony, as gracefully as he could encumbered as he was, into the darkest corner he could find. Looking past Silver, he took in the scene. A card game, and not a filly in sight. "Good" he thought to himself, "No distractions."

"Sit down and hail us a drink. This barkeep looks like he could use the business" Sureshot flicked his mane. He always craved a drink after an altercation.

Rozencratz watched as two more ponies walked into the saloon. His predator eyes followed them to their seats. They sat in the far dark corner. "Hmmm, looks like they don't want to be noticed." He thought. "Oh well, whatever their business is, it dooesn't bother me. Maybe they will buy drink or two."

Rozencratz hoped they would not cause any trouble. Normally ponies who come in quietly and sat in the dark were not very friendly customers. Rozencrtaz felt under his bar. He found the cleaver he used for food. Rozencratzz sighed. His halberd was in the back room. If trouble broke out, getting it would be a problem.

Silver regretted not taking a seat in the back corner, affording him the luxury to watch all that went on in the saloon, but it also would trap him in a corner far too quick. Knowing Sureshot though, he was unlikely going to take advantage of him here. Not yet at least. What worried him most were other ponies that may notice him.

Before taking a seat at the same table, Silver tapped his hoof on the counter of the bar. "Two whiskeys on the rocks." He ordered, not taking his eyes off Sureshot. Alcohol could maybe work for him here.

He trotted close to his seat, not sitting yet, but rather hovering and ready to move, or take their drinks if this bartender was not kind enough to serve it. He had a feeling he would though. All the more reason he could stand and be free to move.

Sureshot eyed him. "You're ill at ease. Sit down. You'll draw attention." He popped off his hat and rested his face in his hoof for a moment. Then he looked back up, his small meditation over, and re-covered his head. "It's been a long time, Silver. I haven't forgotten a single thing about Neighpon. It became a second home, after all. After you left what was left of us holding the bag."

A cloud grew over the grey-blue pony's face. "I've been working for a long time to get back here. I'm not going to let anything stand in the way of me taking back what I'm owed."

He glanced over to the griffin behind the bar. Sureshot's travels had proven two things about griffins to him. They are excellent cooks, and they are fierce as hell. Sureshot admired that.

Rozencratz nodded. "Soome business, finally. Two wheeskeys on the rocks cooming up." He said. Rozencratz grabbed the ice, the drinks, and began to pour. "The least he could say was thank you." Rozencratz thought, "Or at least looked at me." The griffin shook his head. He did not expect his customers to be nice to him, but a little respect goes a long way. He walked over to the table with the drinks, placing them down. "Two wheeskeys." He said, quickly sizing up the two ponies. Neither seemed to be too much of a threat, but looks could be deceiving. "Eh, I need to lighten up." Thought the griffin, walking back to the bar. "For all I know, they might become my best coostomers."

Smith Wesson sauntered into the tavern, allowing the cool air to wash over him and relieve him of the oppressive heat of the outside sun. Adjusting his hat, Wesson head over to the bar, wondering why he hadn't been in here more often. Upon seeing the griffon bartender, he remembered why.

It wasn't that Wesson hated griffons but from past experiences, of which he had quite a few, they hadn't seemed like the friendliest of creatures and for that he held a dislike towards them. However, his need for a good drink was enough to overcome any prejudices.

Smith Wesson perched himself on a bar stool, glancing around at the other customers. A card game was occurring but to more of his interest, Wesson noticed two stallions speaking in the back of the tavern. Something about them seemed...off.
Keeping a weary eye on them, Wesson spoke to the griffon in his southern accent.

"Gimme a whiskey."

Silver looked to Sureshot, and the glass of whiskey that awaited him. His head twitched to the new arrival at the door, not reacting too fast to be jittery, but not so low to merit ignorance. Silver spent every day of his life being hunted. He always kept a low profile, and this new pony seemed to not be much an issue.

He went against his survival instict and sat down at a seat to Sureshot's left, a little over a ponylength away from him. Silver didn't want to be too close to him, but he rather be in swords reach of a pony with a gun.

"So....You survived."

Sureshot lifted the drink to his nose, gave it a small sip, and noted the oaky quality. "This griffin is worth his salt," he thought to himself. He set the drink down, wiped his mouth, and stared back at Silver.

"Survived is not the word. Not even remotely. There were 7 of us, all suddenly in very unfriendly territory. " he growled at Silver. "Lucky you, you didn't have to try and escape with the rest of us. You didn't have to face an angry organization, furious at a job not done."

Sureshot leaned in close to Silver. "You didn't have to see more than half of us murdered in unspeakable ways. Lucky, lucky, lucky Silver."

He leaned back and took a large gulp from his glass. He winced a bit, and then sat up straight. "So, I'll give you a guess as to why I'm here, all these years after your "pleasure cruise" back home."

Rozencratz noticed another pony walk in. He nodded as the pony ordered a whiskey. The earth ponies southern accent clashing with his northern one. "Guess, I'll keep my beak zipped." He thought. The griffin pulled out another bottle of cool, refreshing, alcohol. He poured it into a glass and pushed it towards the pony. "'Ere you go." He said.

Rozencratz continued to watch the two stallions in the back. Things seemed frosty between the two, at best. Not that Rozencratz had a problem with evicting troublemakers, and has done so on several occasions. But these two seemed dangerous. The griffin turned around and barked an order at his chef, in his native tongue. Normally the two conversed in this other language, in order to have their private conversations out loud. "Hey, you can go now. Have a drink on me!" He said to the chef. "On oon your way here, bring the halberd." He said, preparing in case a fight broke out.

"Thanks."

Smith Wesson took the glass, swirling the liquid around a little and taking in the scent. Then he raised it and drank some. The whiskey burnt his throat but in a way he found soothing.

His attention turned back to the bartender. The griffon spoke in some language Wesson had never heard of nor understood in the slightest. He also noted the scar across the griffon's eye and made him wonder if he had been in a bad fight or just cut himself shaving. Probably not the latter.

Once again, Smith Wesson cast a glance at the two stallions in the back of the tavern. Something about the pegasus seemed strangely familiar, like he knew him from somewhere...
Wesson grudgingly turned back to the bartender and spoke in a quiet, hushed voice.

"The unicorn and pegasus, right in back. Ya know anythin' about 'em?"

"I saw plenty enough murder..." Silver said, lowering his head just enough to cover his eyes. He didn't trust himself to hold a good poker face for the subject at hoof. The weight of the harmonica hanging around his neck felt heavier.

"We murdered just as much any pony else there did to us." He looked up after a big sip of his whisky, eyes meeting Sureshot. "You knew the risks from the start. You knew that siege was going to be the end of us. You knew everypony would become nothing more than animals after it all fell apart. Honor or not. You adapted and survived, as did I." His voice spoke slow and measured, lacking all sympathy and masking his tone of regret.

"No. You don't know the difference. Killing is what we were doing. Fighting is what we were doing. We may not have had right on our side, but we had a job to do."

Sureshot drained his glass, and slammed it back down, "Nopony wants to die, but there are some that want to die in a good fight. Their deaths weren't a fight. It wasn't even execution. This was murder."

Sureshot glanced at the reddish pony over by the bar. Whiskey was popular tonight. He wondered what else was on hoof. He continued, "I knew the risks, but I knew the rewards. The risks were tripled and reward removed as soon as you abandoned us. I'm not here to take you in for the money. I'm not even here to avenge the rest of the gang's deaths."

Sureshot sat up straight and gripped the sides of his duster. "I'm here to make certain you get what was supposed to come to you.

Rozencratz shook his head. "I know nothing. They just coostomers." He said, his heavy northern accent clashing with the pony's southern one. "As long as they don't cause ruckus, then they are fine. They buy dreenks, who makes me mooney." He said.

Soon, a hulking earth pony stepped out from the back room and handed a long object to Rozencratz. The object was covered in a white sheet, obscuring it from view. The earth pony then poured himself and drink. The griffon took the object and placed it on the floor by his feet, out of his customers' sight.

Smith Wesson grunted in reply to the griffon's less than helpful input. Taking his drink in hoof, he slid off the bar stool. He scanned the tables in the bar and noticed one with a newspaper, of all things, lying on top.

Wesson made his way over to the table and sat in a chair facing towards the two ponies in the back. Placing his drink on the surface, he picked up the newspaper and feigned reading it. In reality, he was keeping his eyes on the suspicious pair by making glances over the newspaper.

Something was definitely familiar about the pegasus. He just couldn't quite put his hoof on it...

Silver moved quickly. The chair flung back as he sat up quickly and snapped his stance to be quartering toward, wing up and mouth already gripping the katana. He drew partially, shining his steel at Sureshot and ready to complete the motion at a moments notice. He was in striking distance thanks to his choice of seating.

There was nothing left for Silver to say. His eyes locked with Sureshot, ready and emotionless. This pony wanted him to hurt. An old friend of all ponies. Considering how life was going for him the last few years, it was not hard for him to see it coming. It was another day for survival for him with a tough adversary.

Sureshot jolted, started to fling his duster back to reach for his rifle, and then stopped short. Normally, he'd have drawn and gone straight into another clash, but these quarters were unforgiving, and Sureshot struggled to restrain himself. He eased back into his chair, and took Silver's drink, still sitting on the table.

"You seem on edge, Silver. Something got you spooked?" He took a swig from the glass, and set it down next to his own empty glass. "I do admit, you have a lot to think about, but I can't kill you just yet. The timing isn't right, you see?" Sureshot looked over to the other table, where the reddish pony sat with a newspaper.

"You over there. The one NOT reading a newspaper? You seem really interested in us. I know it can't be for our looks, so it must be something else. Come on over here, have a seat with us! Tell us about yourself!"

Sureshot flicked his mane and looked back at Silver, whose blade was still half drawn. He stared back into Silver's emotionless stare, and said out loud "And maybe I'll let you know we are."

As soon as he saw the pegasus begin to draw his sword, Rozencratz jumped into action. He pulled the white fabric away, revealing a large, decorated halberd. He quickly picked up the weapon, and was prepared to vault over the bar when he noticed the two ponies had put their weapons away. The griffin put his halberd back down behind his bar, before quietly stepping out from behind it.

Rozencratz walked over to the two ponies a their table. Although he was furious that they had tried to kill each other in his saloon, he kept a calm face. "Excuse me" He said, standing over the two. "I do not care aboot what is going on between you two, but try and start fight in my bar again, and you will both be outside on the road, eating dirt. Got it?" He asked. Rozencratz disliked violence, and he did not tolerate any in his saloon.

Smith Wesson sighed under his breath. He never had been one for been inconspicuous despite his best efforts. However, one thing he had picked up over the years was attention to detail. From his position he had watched the whole scene evolve in front of him

The pegasus' warning as he threatened with a sheathed blade. The unicorn's movement to draw some kind of concealed weapon from under his duster coat. And the griffon's brief moment of brandishing a nasty looking axe of sorts. Now Wesson had a rough idea what he was against if trouble started...again.

Knowing his revolver was fully loaded and concealed in its hidden holster, Smith Wesson left his seat holding his whiskey and made his way over to the others. He ensured to take a seat most opposite from either of the ponies, keeping a distant due to their weapons. In an effort to make himself seem more harmless than he really was, Wesson turned on his overly friendly southerner act.

"Name's Smith Wesson. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Downing the final remnants of his whiskey, he addressed the bartender.

"Ah'm sure these fine stallions ain't gonna make anymore trouble. How about you bring us all another drink feathers, on me."

Silver had never put away his katana. His eyes kept on Sureshot for as long as he could until Rozencratz arrived. Silver backed away a few paces from them and let his sword sheath again.

The griffon wasn't afraid to get involved. He didn't like that. While he was sure he could handle him, he didn't like the combination of that and Sureshot. The new pony at the table was also a complication. Silver knew he could be trouble the moment he got up to move to their table. The way he carried himself and was all too friendly after such a display of aggression. That pony was either insane, or he carried a gun. Silver bet on the latter.

Too many new arrivals, all of whom could probably put up a fight. Sureshot being one of them made it to his disadvantage. Dispatching the griffon might be doable here, but that left two gun wielding ponies with time to shoot.

That is, unless they were too busy with eachother.

Silver eyed each of the three before looking out at the exit. He nearly decided to simply leave, back away as to avoid being shot in the back. Then again, Sureshot wasn't that stupid when two others were so close and likely to get hostile.

Silver eyed Wesson a few moments, his last comment only making him even more sure. He couldn't leave, not yet, and Silver would make sure he was at some kind of advantage.

Much to the others surprise, Silver moved to take a seat...Right within reach of Wesson.

"Whiskey..." Silver tapped his hoof on the table. He would accept Wesson's offer and be anything but the instigator for now.

Sureshot took note of the situation, and huffed. He hadn't come this far by misjudging his position, and he wasn't going to be making the mistake of a first move. Nonetheless, he had invited a chat, not a thinly veiled threat. He wasn't going to disregard that, but at this moment, it wasn't precisely worth acting on.

Blatant threats were another matter. Being politely told he was going to be thrown out brushed the blue colt the wrong way. But still, the griffin was within his own right.

"I do not appreciate being treated so brusquely, but I do appreciate your place of business. Bring the bottle, if you would please." Sureshot nodded in the direction of the griffin.

Next he looked to the red colt. A keen eye for detail had always been with Sureshot, but it wasn't entirely needed for this situation. "So, Wesson-san, a cross-hair cutie mark, I see? I've got something along the same lines. It's rather telling of what your super-special talent is, yes?"

Sureshot waited patiently for a response, and a drink. It took far too much to get him tipsy lately.

Rozencratz looked at the pony. "I did not mean to insult you, sir. I am simply giving you warning. I do not tolerate violence in my place of business. Now that we have that out of way, I will get you your drinks." He said, walking back towards the bar. He began pouring drinks, keeping his eyes on the group.

He walked back and placed the drinks on the table. "Here you go Just don't drink so much you forget to pay, eh?" He said, beginning to laugh. "Anything else you gentle colts need, just ask me alright?"

Wesson held his new glass in a hoof, idly swirling the liquid inside. He adjusted his stetson whilst nodding to the griffon.

"Thanks."

His attention then turned back to the unicorn. Putting together his question and how he had revealed earlier that he had some kind of weapon under his duster, Wesson now knew he had a firearm.

"How'd ya know I ain't just really good at playing Horseshoes?" he joked, chuckling to himself a little. "Nah but seriously, I think we both stand on common ground there."

Whilst keeping his friendly vibe, Wesson dove straight into the serious business "I get the feelin' that there's some tension between you two. Care to share?"

Silver silently took his glass and drank from it. He appreciated that the tension had lessened somewhat, but it was still very much there. As for Wesson's question....

Silver offered no explanation. He kept focused on his drink, paging through some memories of their affiliation. There was plenty between them. Good and bad.

(I apologize for my poor attendance to posting. Been in a slump lately. Should pick up with season 3 coming out at least. Ill try to be more vigilant.)