The door swings open ominously. A foot adorned with a worn cowboy boot steps in. The floor creaks and dust puffs into the air. Another booted foot follows. The door swings close once more. Above the boots are faded jeans, knees sporting torn holes. A belt with a wide buckle holds them up. A flannel button down shirt is tucked neatly into the pants. Topping the newcomer is a ten gallon hat, tilted low to obscure their face. A long stem of grass shifts from one side to the other as the stranger shifts it from left to right in their mouth.
Which one of you dirty dogs shot my Pa?
Hey, wait! I was just goofing around.
No. No no no. I was going to introduce a really cool character. They had a magic lasso and everything.
Yeah, I saw that guy. They were kinda stupid, actually. Besides, I've always wanted to make that entrance. The camera pan was great, right?
Besides, I'm boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo- *gasps*ooooooooooooooooooooooooooored.
Fine. Okay. Fine.
Latalla looks around the Sitar, having stood there for a few minutes inexplicably talking to herself. She rotates her outfit back to her traditional adventurer's garb. She ponders her hat before rotating it to her trusted worn fedora. She looks human. Blue eyes, blond hair, big smile, all the right number of limbs and such. Not much to say about her inhumanly cheerful disposition, though.
She looks around excitedly.
I've never been in here before.
She grins, looks for a
victim RP partnerperson to talk to.