![]() All the better if I got out with a few coins in my pocket, too. Tonight I was getting out of here with at least my life. I figured I looked more like some lost nomad than a real sharpshooter, but so long as I didn’t look like a girl it didn’t much matter. I was wrapped up to my eyes, and even hours after sunset I was sweating under the padding like a sinner at prayers. ![]() My hand snapped to my sheema before I could think better of it, checking it was still tightly fastened so the better part of my face was covered. The doors of the bar banged open, spilling out light and noise and a fat drunk with his arm around a pretty girl. Everything I owned belonged to my uncle anyway, according to law, down to the clothes on my back. I’d stolen the hat from my uncle, along with the horse. I tugged the wide brim of my hat lower as I stepped out of the yard. Or maybe that was just his two black eyes. The kid sitting against the fence was sizing me up suspiciously. I slid from Blue’s saddle and tethered her to a post behind some bar called the Dusty Mouth. Then again, I wasn’t exactly up to no bad neither. ![]() They said the only folks who belonged in Deadshot after dark were the ones who were up to no good. ![]()
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