DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.
Passing Time
It was pretty basic as towns went – a small piece of space wreckage with just one plant; one main street that held a hotel, a saloon, a general store, a restaurant, and a small thomas coops at the farthest end; scattered residences, all making sure to stay close to the plant.
Vash the Stampede had money enough that he didn't have to stay, but he also had a pretty good head start on the troublesome insurance girls. He felt it was worth it to stick around a bit, see if he could find some work. It was always good to keep the tommy bank full.
He sauntered past the saloon, casually glancing inside as he did. Empty, a good sign at this time of day. Meant people had things to do other than drink. Things like jobs.
Went to the hotel and booked a room. Passed by the saloon again; still empty. Crossed the street and leaned against a wall in the shadow of an awning, waiting and watching. For half an hour, he just waited. Watched.
Nothing moved except the sand as wind blew it here and there.
Looked clear. Head slowly swiveling as he did so, Vash crossed the street and entered the saloon.
The bartender was tall, thin, salt-and-pepper hair with a dark, well-kept mustache. He was reading a book when Vash came up to the bar. Without looking up, he asked, "What'll it be?"
"Beer."
The bartender slid a thin bookmark off the bar and placed it in the book. "Should warn you, what we got is warm."
"Long as it's wet."
The bartender shrugged. Grabbed a glass and filled it from the tap, expertly slid it back down to Vash, who caught it just as expertly, not sloshing a drop.
Vash drank quietly, slowly, making each swallow count. The bartender returned to his reading.
After ten or so minutes of this, the doors opened, boots sounded on the floor. Because of course only after Vash had scouted would someone come in. Vash the Stampede had found many laws, even sometimes laws of physics, to be breakable, but he had yet to find a way to successfully break Murphy's Law.
He turned slowly, casually, to take in the newcomer. The man was short, but burly and weathered, missing a shave by a few weeks, thick dark hair and darker eyes. A hat similar to a sombrero hung back by a strap. But most important was the tied-down gun.
The stranger marched up to Vash. "You come for the bounty on me?"
Vash shook his head. "Nope. For the beer."
"Ha! I don't believe you."
"Your call." Vash started to turn back, only to be spun back around by a forceful grab of his arm.
"You're waiting for me to drop my guard," the stranger deduced. "But it won't work. I'm Colt Winchester, and even if I did drop my guard you'd still be dead as soon as you made a move, because I'm not just the most wanted man around here, I'm also the fastest!"
Jeez. Another guy who thought fast was the same as accurate, or even that skill with a gun was something to brag about.
Vash raised his eyebrows anyway. "You say you're the fastest?"
"In five towns!" Winchester declared proudly.
"Huh. That's weird, because there's a guy in the back room over there that's been saying he's the fastest."
The bartender looked up from his book and over at the door to the back room by the bar. Back at Vash, blank expression but curious eyes.
"He does, does he?" Winchester spat. "We'll see about that! Take me to this man who is supposedly faster than I, Colt Winchester, notorious outlaw!"
Vash shrugged; who was he to infringe on someone's God-given right to be a sucker? "Right this way."
He led Winchester around the bar and to the door to the back room. "You'll find him in there, looking for some whiskey."
"He's about to find some lead!" declared the outlaw, throwing open the door and storming in.
Before Winchester could realize the room was empty, Vash smoothly grabbed a chair in one hand and closed the door with the other, wedging the chair firmly under the knob.
As the pounding began from inside the back room, Vash told the bartender, "I'd appreciate it if you'd wait before letting him out, give me enough time to get to my hotel room."
The bartender nodded; the hotel employed good security and was very strict about not allowing gunplay.
Vash placed a bill on the bar before walking out. "Thanks for the beer."