Nebtho: Western thingie

[mooshlovely]

Here

Nebris walks into the salon, back straight and chin high, feral grin spread across his face. He has two guns on his hips and another tucked into his vest. The partial doors swing shut behind him, the bustling room falling silent as glasses were lowered slowly to the table and all eyes shifted from him to another man, leaning comfortably against the bar with a lazy smirk.

The crowd is nervous, hushed voices whispering about Etho and the newcomer, fearful warnings to run and hide. Tension curls through the air and Nebris just keeps walking, straight up to this 'Etho.' The man in question turns back to the bar, motions the stunned bartender to him and in soft voice that echoes dangerously through the room, he orders a water.

The murmurs increase in volume and from the corner of his eye, Nebris sees patrons leaving quietly, eyes glued to the scene as they shuffle out. But Nebris is focused on the back of Etho's head, platinum blonde hair poking out from under a fedora. Nebris sees red. Etho turned away as if he was nothing, not worth his time, not even worth a second glance and it sparks something in Nebris. How dare he.

Without a second though Nebris draws his gun, arm out and steady, lined up with Etho's head. A sharp intake of breath from the brave souls who stayed. Then Etho has spun around, crossing the room in an instant and a gun is pressed under his chin, a strong arm tight on his wrist, pointing his own gun to the floor. The click of the safety vibrates the cold metal pressing on his neck and pushing his head back. He can't see Etho anymore, only the wood of the ceiling and a rickety old chandelier, but he can feel warm breaths fanning out on his neck. A shiver rolls through his body, shooting tingles through his fingertips.

There's fear for a second, unannounced and uncontrolled, but instinct and adrenaline kick in and his free hand slowly and silently reaches for his other gun. Carefully and oh so slowly he slides it from it's home on his waist. Nebris takes a deep breath when it's free and then with the smallest tilt of his head, aims and clicks off the safety. He grins, wide and powerful.

"Your move." Etho steps back, gun lowering fractionally and Nebris can see the smirk that still hasn't left. Etho's gun smacks him across the temple before he can process that the blonde has moved. The ground rushes up to his face, flickering in and out of focus, black spots dancing across his vision. He's blinking as he feels his guns wrenched from his grip.

Nebris slides his hand under him, head throbbing and blood trickling down his face, running into his beard. Damn, thats going to be a pain to clean later. His fingers wrap around the grip of the gun in his vest, because this guy may be good but no one beats Nebris. He waits catching his breath until he hears footsteps trailing away before rolling over and pointing the gun. His head protests, vision tunneling, but he manages to make out Etho's form at the bar. Startling blue eyes lock with his as Etho takes a sip of water.


"Not bad."

Comments

[kappa77]

... I feel kinda bad for saying this, but I've forgotten how I like your writing, cause this is really good!

[chemrepnacl]

This was really sweet :D

[dragongirl810]

yes, just yes.