McCree finishes a shot of bourbon when a body slides into the chair next to his. His hat rests on the bar besides the bottle of amber liquid. Checking its placement on the worn wood, he’ll need to grab it quick if whoever this person is turns out to be unsavory.
“Mr. McCree,” a feminine voice raises his gaze to a dark skin, short haired woman beside him. A strange tattoo decorates her right eye, mostly curving outwards underneath her eyelid.
“Sorry, not interested for company tonight,” he rumbles into his glass.
“I’m here because of your kind of business, Mr. McCree.”
Her firm insistence causes him to tuck his elbow upon the bar. Turning to face her, he drinks again. His business is not light or for the faint of heart. Few even know of what he does, much less who he is. In a lowly bar in Georgia, this woman has found him for business.
He goes over her features and body language, looking for any signs of her being directly a part of his business. Not pale nor seemingly hiding pointed teeth. There are plenty of other signs of even deadly things.
“My business, ma’am,” he asks, holding her hard, determined gaze.
“My name is Pharah. There’s a village down in Mexico, a little ways past the big cities and hidden in the jungle. My mother and I live there.”
She jerks her chin upwards, conveying her absolute intensity.
“Mr. McCree, a terrible thing is plaguing the people of our village. I alone can’t kill the monster harming my home, but I know you can.”
Either she’s crazy, or honest, either way, McCree knocks back the rest of the bottle.
~My Tumblr Back-Up And Stuffs~ 