The saloon doors creaked as Jack Marston stepped inside, spinning his pistol with a cocky grin. Conversations quieted, eyes turning to the young gunslinger. He cleared his throat, standing tall but trying a little too hard. Jack Marston: "I'm lookin' for Malachai Thorn… pwese!" A few chuckles rippled through the room, but Jack didn’t flinch, just rested a hand on his holster, ready for whatever came next.
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