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Roxanne Gervaise Marie Lalonde

It was an awfully hot day today, not hot enough to make your heavy makeup melt off, but enough to make you uncomfortable outside. Standing infront of the saloon, wearing a fox fur neck wrap, a blue satin corset with an attatched shorter skirt, a garter belt with dual pistols attached and a pair of black heeled boots, you enter the saloon gracefully, swaying your naturally large hips from side to side, your figure is perfectly framed with the corset you're wearing.

Making your way to the bar, you take out a cigarette and light a match, placing the so called death stick in your mouth, gracefully, making sure to not smudge your lipstick. Anyone can easily tell you're a prostitute, but you are far more respected than a simple one, no you are one of the high class prostitutes, a mistress. But also a feared criminal, any sheriff would of shot you dead if he saw you, but you made sure they didn't. You would like to drink your vodka in peace.

You eye the bartender, idly twirling a strand of your hair with your free hand, waiting for her to ask for your order. You only really have the one strand loose, the rest is pinned up in voluminous curls, making your timeless look even more elegant, it's only the most glamorous hairstyle of the times. You pull a swift toke of your cigarette before blowing rings into the air, they look so pretty.

Wow, this bartender sure is a looker, you curl your mouth into a smile, it's looks quite sinister, but you can assure it is a sincere smiles for this lovely bartender.
"Oui, could I have a vodka tonic vith tvice the vodka, skip the ice, I don't appreciate a vatered down drink." You say this in a thick French accent, having migrated to America as a child with your French parents, you adapted to the accent, and spoke a very broken English, you used to get teased for it when you were younger.

Wow, this bartender sure is a looker, you curl your mouth into a smile, it's looks quite sinister, but you can assure it is a sincere smiles for this lovely bartender.
"Oui, could I have a vodka tonic vith tvice the vodka, skip the ice, I don't appreciate a vatered down drink." You say this in a thick French accent, having migrated to America as a child with your French parents, you adapted to the accent, and spoke a very broken English, you used to get teased for it when you were younger.

You look up at the bartender suddenly placing an ashtray in front of you, smiling before placing cigarette butt in it.
"Thanks darling, but I already took care of my fag, say you mixing up that drink for me sweetness?"

"Never been better," You give off that smile again, extending your long arm towards the drink and grabbing it before bringing it up to your lips and drinking it all in one go, you have been dying for that drink. Slightly dabbing at your top lip with your index finger tip , you lean your elbow on the bartop, leaning in to face the bartender.
"Eh, I come, I go , sometimes I stay for a vhile and get to knov locals, othertimes i come only for business, it's a fun time really."

"It sure is the dream, and i'll be sure to take your advice, I like it hear, I might stay for a while longer than a need to, say vould you like to hear a nice story of my travels?" As much as you oblige to telling personal information about yourself, you cannot help talking to bartenders and telling them stories of your time and travel, it's how legends are told, stories passed on through generations, all through the memory of the simple bartender.

"Okay okay, so about a year back, I'm in a rather sticky situation, the man I vas seeing, turned out to be the most vanted criminal in the entire town. I only found this out , during an intimate moment vith him, so him and I, ve're making fierce love, ve vere dead set being made to be, You could say I loved him. Okay anyvays back to the story, right in the middle, he tells me 'Mon Cherie, I love you so , so I thought I vould spend my last hours vith you, the sheriffs police are raiding our house as ve speak.', At the time, I vas riding him like he vas a horse, so this was a rather shock to me, just then the bust down the door, literally catching us vith our pants down, vell alot of things down, and yeah, they shot him in the head and left me there, alone covered in blood. It vas a rather funny story, because I managed to get dressed, and steal everything valuable mon chou-fleur had stashed avay, I vas on of the only people vho knew vhere everything vas, Talk about a bloody affair though." Your story took a rather grim turn and you let out a dry cackle, you did love that man, but you were in love with wealth alot more than you were him, some people would call you a gold digger, your call yourself a lady of power.

"Merci mademoiselle, so, you have a name sveetness?" You say this, pulling a smoke out of the packet in your corset and lighting it with a match, everyone you know used to say 'Roxanne you're so pretty, smoking will rot your body', 28 years strong and your still going strong and keeping your ageless beauty.

"Merci mademoiselle, so, you have a name sveetness?" You say this, pulling a smoke out of the packet in your corset and lighting it with a match, everyone you know used to say 'Roxanne you're so pretty, smoking will rot your body', 28 years strong and your still going strong and keeping your ageless beauty.

 You cock and eyebrow at this man, how does he know of your name? What does he want with you?
"Vhat's it to you, sveetheart." You have no desire to be in any form of business with this man, especially if he's going to say your name aloud, a sheriff could be around, and you aren't exactly liked by them.

"Vhoever told you that, is going to get a quality visit from me, I'm not taking any clients in this town, I am laying lov, So if you vould kindly." You do a shooing moment with your right hand before spinning around on your stool back to facing the bar, how did this man even learn about you being a prostitute? Who told him?

Wait, holy fuck, he.. he doesn't mean that. Oh god. You may of just gave out very bad private information.
"Nevermind, Vho are you, vhat do you vant and vhy are you here. Tell me, oui." You already don't like this man, because he knows too much about you, no one is allowed to know too much about you, and your name is not a thing you want anyone from around here knowing.

 Did this man just tell you, the gunslinger herself, that you don't know your way around your gun, you're insulted.
Oh really nov?" You just pull up your skirt, showing your garterbelt, dual pistols strapped to your thighs and your panties, classy Madame Lalonde, you just flashed a strange. "They call me the gunslinger for a reason, and I will not stand to be insulted."

Did he just say that and leave , what, what does he want you for, your guns? Your skills in conning people out of tons of money with great acts of sexual pleasure? Your accent? You've haven't been so confused since you somehow ended up in the middle of a native american camp hungover as fuck and missing both your guns.

You guess you're gonna tailgate the man to his location see what he was all about, you get up, strutting out of the bar, not even paying for your drinks, because you have boobs and guns, and no ones gonna mess with that combination, especially at the cost of a drink. Making your way to the location, you see the doors wide open, and follow up the stairs to where you presume shouting is coming from, your take out both your pistols, in case you are walking into a trap, only to see. Well whatever the fuck you just walked in on.
"Oh mon dieu! The ONE time i leave the bar with a strangers instructions I valked in on some veird shit, amazing."

You just kind of, pull a very confused expression, not sure what to make of this whole shitfest of a situation, how did you get involved with this, what the actual fuck is going on.
" I don't even knov vhy I am here, Don't question me, Uh, I think I might just leave." You sort of, tuck your pistols back into their straps on your garterbelt, still pulling the same confused expression.

You move fast, being caught up in that whole facade made you escape from that house quickly, you could see things were either gonna get messy, or weird. Hell they were already pretty fucking weird. Anyways, you're currently sitting at the bar once again, enjoying an ice cold vodka tonic, and having a smoke. It's peaceful at the bar, not dead silent, but there isn't a bar fight per usual, someone trying to hit on you or someone asking for your services. You like the peace. It's nice to drink your drink in dark silence.

You just kind of , sip at your drink, idly nodding at Cal, he's a nice guy and criminals gotta stick together. [br]"Oui, I didn't
see anything, but you knov the drill, steal any of my shit and I'll murder your faster than you can say jawohl,  Sauerkraut." You take the hand fulls of money , stuffing them into your corset top, it's a tight fit, but you manage to conceal them, you're up some more cash now, thank you Cal.

"Bite me," You smile, going back to sipping at your drink, as if nothing at all happened, hopefully you won't have to do anything, because being caught right now would suck, but then again, the town sheriff is pretty crap, he couldn't catch you if you were a disease. You idly play with a loose strand of hair, growing board of drinking alone.

"Thought you'd never ask." Saying that you throw your glass on the ground, jumping up almost from the bar stool and strutting cautiously on over to join Cal.

You follow the smaller man, keeping your distant, but at the same time trying not to seem like you a possibly avoiding getting close to him, you know his crimes, don't blame him for them, hell you would probably eat someone, not like right now , but , if you had to you would. He isn't [i]that[/i] bad.

You just, sigh at Cal, facepalming gently from afar before strutting over to the scene. You are actually amazed at how immature some criminals can be, like you're causing radical crimes, at least act and or look sinister. Gosh.

There is that loud sigh, these fucking children, really a gun shot. You don't shoo you enemies at point blank RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE SHERIFFS OFFICE. God. You need to take action over these kids before they get fucking arrested. Taking you dual pistols of your garterstraps , you hold them up, in a shooting stance. [br]"Okay, everyone, Calm the FUCK DOWN! DO YOU VANT TO GET ARRESTED? I SURE DON'T. SO CALM YOUR SHIT, PUT YOUR WEAPONS DOWN AND LEAVE BEFORE THE FUCKING SHERIFF SHOWS UP." Actual first time anyone has seen her lose her shit. This is why you work alone.

"Speak of the fucking devil, motherfucker put your hands up before I shoot up this fucking place." You just, aim your gun directly at the sheriff, You won't ACTUALLY shoot him, but that's better then having to explain why your tits are half popping out of your shirt from piles of cash in your corset and why you are even here.

Oh, trying that hey, you point your other pistol at him, aiming it right at his crotch, he will be in alot of pain if he tries anything. [br]"In the office, nov, or you vill permanently lose your rights to reproduce son." Fun fact; the angrier roxanne gets the thicker her french accent gets.

Curling your lips into a smile, you turn back to the utter morons that you cal other criminals. [br]"Get the fuck out of here already! I just saved your sorry asses, you owe me one. I von't forget about this." You glare at them, you swear these kids don't know how to be criminals, they're too, involved with their own shit to even bother with bribing, the sheriff and his police, and anything other than themselves really. It's ridiculous.

Sighing, you take the Vodka bottle of the Strider, before strutting away from the scene, yeah theres a kid lying on the ground shot, but he's irreverent to you, you have a bottle of a vodka and a shit ton of money, you don't need anyone right now, or want them, this is the last time you join the Strider's on a fun adventure. Friggin Sauerkraut and his English brother. Bicker bicker bicker.

The last day or so has sure been a fun one, you've done nothing but drink and pass out , sure you have a raging headache, but you  did drink a whole bottle of vodka in a night alone, and then there was the other drinks, all you can say is, don't mix drinks. Ever. So what are you doing now you ask? Other than nursing a killer headache, nothing in particular. You think you may be out a bit too far from town, the deserts a deadly place, and wandering it without a horse or even water is a terrible idea. Thankfully, you shouldn't be out in the sun for two long now, The hideout should be right about he- Ah there is is, the old Strider hideout, memorized it's location off heart. Sure invading someone else hideout is against the rules, but what are they gonna do about it, you saved their asses not long ago and your the roughest toughest gunslinger this towns ever' seen.

Creeping all so cautiously through the door, you find your way walking through a long hallway like plane of land, illuminated softly by a few wall lanterns. You take every step with precision, in case there's a trap laying around, you never know with these other criminals, not one is alike. You know that for a fact. Emerging from the darkness of the hallway to a lit up room you blink a few times looking around, you definitely have the right place.

Ah you did get the location right, and you're favorite crazy German is there to great you, wonderful! You wave back at Cal, curving your mouth into your signature smile, strutting over to him. Knowing that you're in the right place fixed your posture instantly, seeing as you wouldn't be caught dead creeping around in the company of people that could fear you, you need to keep a tight form of fear around you friends and foes. [br]"Ahh, I found the right place, Bonjour Monsieur Strider."