Drifting backwards
He's asked around, he's banged on a few tables, even hit on a few women to secure the deal. But he's gotten her location. She's on some backwards terra in a backwards part of Atmos, where even the worst of the worst feel out of place. And someone's with her. The kid. The sharpshooter. He can't even remember the names. Of course, he's not a child anymore. They're all men, now. Which means no holding back this time. Life's too damn short and he's getting to damn old. So when he lands on the humid, sunny terra, his mind is not drifting away. It is focused, and he realizes how much he's missed the thrill of the chase.
Red eyes scan the horizon for signs of life. No one. He's getting his prize back, and he's getting it today. Never mind if the blondie's there. He'd rather have the necklace and get a few arrows up his ass than not have the thing at all. For some stupid reason, that crystal means so much to him.
Maybe because she touched it, a long time ago. Right before she died. She always did want that stone, always did want the girl dead. Always did love and hate at the same time. So he was doing it for her, wasn't he? He gritted his teeth and started down the street, feet uncertain but determined.
He walked up to the bar door and opened it, moving into the air conditioned room quickly. The bartender looked up, eyes widening. His face was well known, apparently, because the man had begun to shake. Even though he had been given an official pardon, a shred of his clothing sent shivers down the toughest of men.
The bartender set down the glass he had been wiping and staggered over to the register.
"Uh...C-can I h-help y-you?"
He flips a coin onto the table. "I need information, and you're going to give it to me." His hand inches towards the sword, still strapped on his back. "Or else."
And the bartender nods, all too happy to comply.