by Hydrargentium

The bullet ricocheted off Miles’ shoulder, tearing a hole in the stretch fabric, and buried itself in the brick wall.

“That was just a warning, mister. Next one’s in your thigh.”

Miles cocked an eyebrow at the anachronism pointing a Colt at him. The man held the gun loosely, with extreme ease. It sure looked like this cowboy would hit exactly where he threatened.

“Yer… not from around here, are you?” Miles tried to sound like he was trying to act like he wasn’t scared. He wasn’t sure it was working, but he thought it might be a good idea. Put the man at ease, and stuff.

 

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