Eric Krieger stepped into the Stardust in the early afternoon, freshly returned from his 'fishing' expedition.  The trip to Oakdale and back would only have taken four days under most circumstances, but he allowed himself to be seen vacationing there for additional days, and made several inquiries there about the best local fishing spots before buying a rod and hooks and bait and setting out.  He'd even eventually caught something, which he'd spent some time preparing so that it could travel without spoilage.

He found an unoccupied table at the saloon and laid a cloth bundle upon it, which he slowly unrolled.   The bundle contained a salted and dried fish, which had been cleaned, but whose head, scales, and fins remained intact.  It was somewhat uncouth to bring outside food like this into an establishment which served its own meals.  Doubly so if that food was fish.  Although this example was not particularly odoriferous, the whole maneuver lacked a certain degree of tact and consideration.

After laying out his fish, and awaiting the approach of a server, he took a letter from his coat pocket and set it before him so that he could read it.   

As he did this, another customer entered the saloon and went to the bar.  Eric recognized him at once, but made no indication of it.

@Open

The man who walked into the Stardust was, by now, well known to the employees there.  But he bore almost no resemblance to the figure who'd arrived in Kalispell in late August.

His face sported three days' worth of stubble, such that it threatened to sprout a full-face beard before very long.  His eyes were downcast, not meeting the gaze of anyone who looked in his direction.  His face was vacant of the smile which usually lived upon his lips.  His clothes had the look of having been slept in, with the concurrent suggestion that he had not recently bathed... though at least no aura of stink was yet about him.

He walked up to the bar and slumped there, as though there was no strength within his body to hold him up properly, and only the structure of the bar itself was doing the job.

Roland Smith was feeling very, very low.

"Bourbon," he muttered to the barkeep.

It was the only word he shared.

@Open

Roland turned to look at the young woman who'd come up to the bar beside him.  

He'd only seen her once before, and under less than ideal circumstances.  The memory of it almost brought a smile to his lips, but it just as readily threatened to bring tears to his eyes.  

After the bloody affair with Maura Walsh, and their bittersweet affair in the middle of the larger quest, Roland had returned to Kalispell determined to put a finger on his romantic future.  He was as surprised as anyone to find that he enjoyed Zenobia's mercurial company, and he'd decided to make a go of it. 

But no sooner had he made up his mind than she herself had closed that door.  And while he was still lamenting it, all hell had broken loose.  Even then, as she was mending on a borrowed bed from her beating, he dared to think they might end up together.  That somehow, this terrible tragedy would culminate in an impossible happiness down the line.

But that, too, had been self-deception.  That was the problem with being a romantic soul willing to fall for a girl on the turn of a moment.   The optimism of such an outlook did not gel well with the real world.  Love was not a game to be played at frivolously and with reckless abandon.  If one was to be a cad, it paid not to actually care about any of the women you embraced.

He did care.  Easily and often.  And so he felt like the fish on the table yonder.  Gutted.

Accepting the drink with a nod to the barkeep, he returned his attention to the woman beside him.

The wounds and pains of his recent days were tied inexorably to his warm regard for the fairer sex.  And so he managed a sad smile now, the pathetic state of which she could not see, and conjured kind words from his darkened mind.

"You were clearly pretty before the spectacles, Miss Grimes.  I'm glad if they frame the picture of you well enough, but rest assured the picture was already a delight to behold."

It was kind of her to speak to him at all, given his tarnished reputation.   He could do no less than return that kindness.  Easier still to do so when his words were true.

Picking up the glass, he downed its contents in a single gulp.  Then he set the glass down and nodded to the barkeep for another.

This would not be a one drink day.

@Open

Between singing on stage and spending time at various tables chatting with customers, both duties she excelled in, Caroline was also expected to wait on tables. The saloon only served stew, good stew it was too, but most of the time it was taking drink requests and serving said drinks. As she now approached this man, she couldn't help but notice he had a fish skeleton displayed in all it's deadness. What the hell?

"Well, hello there! So what can I bring ya?  You n' yer dead fish," Caroline flashed one of her best customer service smiles.

It also did not escape her notice that another fellow had come on in about the same time, one she knew. Roland Smith and he didn't look good. She knew why too. As a matter of fact one of the men at another table said just a bit too loudly, "He's the one behind that crazy woman who kilt her Pa in cold blood."

Caroline glared for just an instant at the speaker but duty came first, she was taking an order from a customer.

"More astonishing, I think, if it were still alive," Eric said, smiling and winking at the server who'd approached.   

Another customer spoke loudly about Mr. Smith at the bar, and Eric's gaze slid momentarily in that direction.  Some people took a hobby of poking bears.  It seemed like a dangerous past-time, and one unlikely to win friends.

At the bar, the man there stiffened appreciably.  Which was perhaps an improvement, as he'd previously resembled a human noodle.

Returning his attention to Caroline, Eric resumed his interrupted smile.  "I would be grateful of a coffee, Miss.  And if you have a piece of bread hiding somewhere in the back, doubly so."

The server here was five shades more beautiful than Eric considered typical.  

The wages must be very good to attract that kind of help.

@Open

"More astonishing, I think, if it were still alive," Eric said, smiling and winking at her.

"Well, we can both agree it ain't that," Caroline shrugged bare shoulders.

"I would be grateful of a coffee, Miss.  And if you have a piece of bread hiding somewhere in the back, doubly so."

"Bread?"  did the man think this was diner or restaurant?

"Why you plannin' on that doing the old loaves and fishes miracle? Cuz somebody else did it first or so it's written," Caroline pointed out with a smirk.

"Actually we don't sell no bread. We do sell beef stew and it's good and I ain't just sayin' that. But sure I can get ya a coffee then."

This was apparently gonna be a cheap customer alright.

Eric barked a laugh as though he was a big dog.  

"Well, I can't promise a miracle," he answered her, "but I can share some of my fish if you're hungry.  I'm back from Oakdale on a fishing trip.  This is the last catch I made.  People say you can't eat salted fish without cooking it, but those people have never been on a long march, I say."

His face fell somewhat when he was notified that there would be no bread forthcoming.

"You make stew, but not bread?"  He tried to imagine enjoying a good stew without sopping up the bowl's remains with a piece of bread.   No matter how he imagined it, it seemed unsatisfying.  "Well... just the coffee."

He paused, thinking, before adding, "and if you're not busy, I'd buy you a drink as well in exchange for the news of affairs while I've been out of town."

@Open