Oregonal Sin

Richard hadn't only just arrived. He'd waited, ordered a drink, taken a table on his own with his back to the corner to watch Alec for a while, observe the people around, watch the game. When he saw the telltale drop of a hand under the table Alec was playing at, he stood, walked over with apparent casualness, and set his untouched whiskey on the table in front of Alec.

One hand on Alec's shoulder, the other keeping his coat clear of his draw, his eyes steady on the man across the table. "Reconsider. Now."

It wasn't unusual to see Adelaide in the saloon, sitting at the bar and nursing a drink. It was unusual to see her there so early in the day. She looked up when someone new entered, nodded and subtly tried to keep track of where they headed.

Alec had come back to the apartment and managed to get the place warmed up once the wood had been delivered. Then he'd settled on the chair, taking his hands off and started to warm them against the heat, despite the fact that his fingers were not so happy with this state of affairs. They still stung, and he glanced at the salve Harry had added, hesitating for a few minutes. He finally gave in and got about trying to apply it.

By the time Richard came home, Alec had managed to get salve onto those fingers and was trying to put the lid back on.

This time of year, Harry was seen around town even more often than usual. Normally, he had a bundle of carefully (if plainly-wrapped) packages in hand as he made deliveries he figured the few boys who worked at the store shouldn't be trusted with.

Packages delivered, he rambled slowly back to the store, hands in his pockets and whistling a merry tune.

Being sick did absolutely nothing for Alec's temperament. That is, if you called making him even more irritable and pissy nothing.

He stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket with an irritated sigh and pushed the door to the shop open, bumping into someone as he tried to enter. He looked up and scowled at them.

Richard had discovered that Alec was not a patient patient. Apparently Alec was not a patient anything, but he was oddly fascinating, continuously compelling, and a complete mystery.

Richard was impatient with injury, but stoical with sickness, taking time to rest quietly until it passed, and it had passed, even with the time he'd spent caring for Alec. Now, though, Alec was improving enough to be demanding, and Richard had dressed himself, settled his guns into place, knives into their sheaths, and headed out into the town, slow pace across the square towards the store.

He paused as someone came close to him, and touched his hat to them. "Morning."

Richard had given up on the delaying tactics. He'd sold the majority of the game he'd brought back, stored the rest, and stopped looking for the stranger.

Instead, he looked for the saloon. Easier to find, and stocked with good whiskey and company keen to keep on his good side, which meant all manner of friendly company who knew to keep clear of his draw.

Opening time on another day. Didn't make much odds if it was a weekday or a Sunday, save some of the girls started shifts late on Sundays but this one was a weekday. Heavy bars lifted away from the doors to let people in, Jax behind the bar, Gemma's girls ready and willing for company or custom. Or both.

Open for business.