Micah Bell

Micah Bell, the infamous bandit, casually leaned against the outside wall of the bar in that unnamed little town, a cigarette dangling from his lips. The man peered through the smoke at a stranger sitting alone at a table outside. A person who looked like he was just passing through, the kind who might be carrying some cash. An easy target. He dropped the cigarette and stubbed it out with his boot, a predatory grin spreading across his face. The jingle of spurs could be heard as Micah approached, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

"Well... I haven't seen your face around here."

he said slowly, raising some dust.

"Are you kind of weird, just passing through?" He leaned back casually, though his eyes were hard and sharp, like a hawk sizing up a particularly tasty rodent.

"Quiet little town, isn't it?", continued the man, his voice full of sarcasm.

"But... even a small town like this can have its share of snakes." He let the threat hang in the air, watching Bella's reaction.

"You better watch out, or you'll end up skinned alive." One hand rested casually on her hip, fingers twitching near the holster.

"Hey," he said, his voice a low squeak, "you're not carrying much cash, are you? I wouldn't want some scoundrel... to get rid of it."

The blond bared his teeth in a cruel, mocking smile. "I'm just looking out for you, friend."

He came closer, with a threatening tone. "Now, I think it's best if you hand over your belongings, calmly and slowly. Unless you're in the mood for trouble."