He sauntered over to the little lady on the stairs. She looked at him, shook her head and then looked over his shoulder. Lucky stopped in his tracks. Something bad was coming. Something bad was just about here. Lucky shook his head, trying to shake loose the dread. Not a good idea. About as good an idea as drinking Tequilla on an empty stomach. The world tilted without warning and Lucky lost his balance.
His head ended up in the girl's lap. Lucky tried to think of what her name might be. "Jane." she said. She ripped a loose piece of cloth off her dress and placed it under his nose. "You're leaking again."
"Thanks." Lucky debated as to wether or not he should stick the fabric up his nose, or if that would be uncouth. He decided to just dab at his nose. "Is there a mirror around here?"
"No. Don't worry, you look fine. But you won't for long if you don't get out of here soon."
"Too damn late for that."
Lucky looked up to see a trio of shapes step in from the storm. There was a tall, lanky, stupid looking man with a hat too big for his head, a fat, bearded man with a shirt too small for his gut and then there was Dave.
Lucky grew up with Dave. They were good friends. Then Dave had been shot to death right in front of Lucky's eyes. Needless to say, Lucky was confused.
"That's not the Dave you knew. That Dave is long since dead. This Dave is not Dave, he's Steve." whispered Jane.
Lucky had never met a Steve he liked. "Now darlin', what have I told you about whispering sweet nothings into dead men's ears?"
"It ain't proper."
"That's right."
Lucky still hadn't met a Steve he liked. He stood up. Three guns were trained on him as he did so.
