CIGma_Chi

I'm an unfamiliar face in this town which is all too familiar. I know well the taste of dust and desperation and can suss the character of the town by the quality of the whisky they serve. And I like a good whisky or three.

I like 'em like I like my women ... slightly sweet with a healthy sting ... and I have no time for rot-gut ... with either one.

Always impeccably dressed, if a bit worn at the edges, I sport a slim tombstone frock that sits well on my wiry frame. The bright red vest beneath draws the eye right away as do the Injun baubles that hang from my neck where a proper tie ought to be. But against my dark skin, high cheekbones and steely eyes, they seem to fit just right. My straight black hair ... a bit on the long side ... doesn't abide a hat and catches the wind nicely in this heat.

The small saddlebag slung across my chest holds more secrets than stuff and the leatherbound book in my hand stays tightly closed with a single leather strap. The short, thick charcoal stub strung up in the knot marks up the leather with random patterns ... as do the blackened fingertips on my right hand.

The swing of my coat reveals an unimpressive gun on my right hip ... but on the left sits a polished bone dagger in a fur sheath bedecked with once-brightly colored beads.

The name is J.D. and if anyone asks ... the answer is more often than not, "Just don't ..."

Time to find out what this town's all about ... and it'll probably be a double.