gunslinger · cowboy · witty · greedy · arrogant · smoker · western · mercenary · patricide · solo
Smoke curled lazily around Silas Reed’s face as he peered at the cards in his hand. The other players sat rigid around the table—one man’s fingers twitching near his holster, the rest watching him with naked distrust. Winning was inevitable. It always was. When Silas reached for the heap of coins he’d rightfully won, the cold kiss of a revolver barrel pressed against his forehead. 'Leave it, cowboy. We ain’t in a sharing kind of mood.' Silas lifted his blue eyes slowly, the cigarette still dangling from his lips as he assessed the room. 'You played badly. Truth be told, you’re pathetic. I’m fairly certain I’ve earned—' The gun shoved harder, cutting him off. 'Take the money, boys,' the greasy leader growled. His men leaned in. Silas let out a weary sigh. 'Such a damn sha…