Snippet #1220010

Roger peered through the scope of his rifle with his good eye. Concealed between rocks, and beneath an earth-tone tarp, he looked out across the barren Wasteland. He, along with his few possessions, had been using the rocks as shelter for the past day or so. He saw only one thing, the human settlement a half-mile north of his position. He'd been multitasking, resting and staying off his feet for a day, and checking for any signs of a possible trap. It had been around 27 hours of watching, if there were raiders, he would have seen something. No shifty looking guys hiding around rocks, no suspiciously unattended food or weapons, no rotting (human) bodies. He threw the tarp off of his body, rolled it up, and put it in his bag. He did a few stretches with his legs, before heading towards town.

Roger recalled the information he'd gathered from his day of scouting the area and town, as he took a hand rolled cigarette from his jacket pocket and lit it. He hadn't smoked for the whole last day, afraid his smoke would betray his position. It looked like a dozen or so people entered, then left the town. He'd spotted five guys, that he knew of, walking around town. They probably lived there. He figured he'd head for the saloon, once he got into town. He noticed a couple of well-equipped outsiders enter the bar earlier in the day. Roger figured he could maybe trade for some more tobacco, or even some ammunition. As he closed in on the town, he extinguished his cigarette with his fingers, and placed it unfinished in his jacket.

Don't want anyone knowing I'm well off enough to afford smokes. Nobody robs the broke guy. He entered the saloon, suddenly becoming very aware of his eye patch as he noticed the other patrons. He sat at the bar, next to one of the outsiders, who was with either the barmaid, or a whore. His left hand in is jacket pocket, he ordered a glass of water and threw down his caps.