"Well, I wouldn't trade you in for a hard working mule, but yes. As far as manly attraction goes, I suppose you might call yourself fetchin'. You are a might too pretty in the eyes, but that ought to wear in time. Though I reckon you could do with a bath. You look like you're just about a day's ways from souring even the strongest of sensibilities."
Doc reached over the counter and grabbed a glass, then he unscrewed his bottle and poured himself a drink. If he was going to be drinking in the company of other cowboys, then he would do it properly. With his fingers around a bit of crystal as opposed to the bottle's neck.
He threw the drink back down his throat. It had ceased burning yesterday evening and he imagined that all of the nerves and sensory receptors in his mouth had grown numb to the fiery spirits.
Then he grabbed another glass and poured a drink for his new companion.
"The name's Doc Holliday. You know you're bleeding, right?"