The saloon was deserted; the bartender dozing in the heat. The doors swung shut on sand filled hinges, startling the bartender from his reverie. As the stranger takes a seat at the corner of the bar, the bartender coughs and waddles over to where the stranger sits. The bartender puts his hands under the bar as he reaches the stranger.
“Let me see ’yer fingers.”
The stranger pulls down his balaclava and starts to speak. The bartender yanks a shotgun from under the bar and shoves the crude barrel in the strangers face.
“Last chance, friend. Let me see ‘ya fingers or I’ll be lookin at the color of ’yer brains.”

The stranger slowly pulls his gloves off and shows the barkeep the backs of his hands. After a quick inspection and nod, the barkeep replaces the shotgun.
“Alright, friend, no offence is meant, ya know that. And now I’ll be needin ’tah see the color of ’yer coin.” the man chuckles.

The stranger slams a dirty silver dollar on the bar and replaces his gloves.
“Water. And whatever passes for food here.”

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