Séra waits a beat for the others to introduce themselves before she does so, giving a rakish bow and the appellation you've already heard once ("Seraphine Bellegarde, Corsair de la Nymphe").

"Gretchen Gallowglass, Father." No flourish, no inflection

Gretchen doesn't feel comfortable with this priest, something feels wrong and she wants to get a read on him.

Insight: 14

Gretchen: 

Gretchen will trip (read kick) over the bullet casings and in stumbling try to grab one and catch herself in the pastor, stealing his revolver.

 15 sleight of hand

Reverend Simon Perception check: 9

Gretchen you manage to skillfully and deftly lift the revolver out of the holster without it catching on the belt or the Priests shirt and quickly tuck it behind your back. You now have a Revolver with two bullets as well the casing you manage to snag from the tipped over bucket. 

"Lovely to meet you both, Please feel free to come by the church whenever you please." The Reverend attempts to help Gretchen when she trips, catching her arm and helping her stand back up. "Ooops be careful my child, one should watch their footing around these parts." The Reverend seems slightly agitated that all his work in collecting the casings is now scattered in the dirt once more, He straightens the bucket and proceeds to put the casings back into it. 

"Redfeather from Oawaka tribe. May the spirits of your past be by your side" says the Indian. He then forms a fist and holds it against his forehead, his tribes way of greeting non-tribemembers

Reverend Simon nods at you Redfeather, acknowledging you but is more concerned with his task of picking up the casings that was strewn over the hit dirt. The sun overhead is near unbearable and you all find yourselves a little thirsty, your lips are beginning to dry and crack and the dry air isn't helping that fact. Gretchen and Seraphine, you can already feel your exposed skin burning from the intense rays of the sun. 

The carriage driver finishes unloading the last crate of supplies. "Ya'll got your belongings I trust, I'll be on my way shortly; Try to enjoy your time in Little Rock." He doesn't look at the Reverend as he walks pass the group of you, heading towards the town. 

"I'm right parched, you two care to join me for a drink?" She'll head down toward Lowery's.

"I am...how you say...'already there,'" Delsephine walks alongside Gretchen, keeping an eye out for any more "target practice" happening around.

"Redfeather does not drink, clouds the senses. But likes to make new friends. I will stay with you"

The Reverend smiles as the three of you break away, the carriage driver is already climbing back onto his carriage and does not even both to look in your direction as you move toward the town. First impressions, This place could use some work. Nearly every building looks at least 50 years old and in some state of disrepair. One building you pass as you enter into town is missing a section of wall in the front, You soon realize that this is the Sheriffs station; According to the sign on the front of it. 

There is no one in the single road, not a soul but the three of you walking threw the thoroughfare but the where about of the towns inhabitants are soon discovered by the noises coming from the Saloon. Lowerys is a two story building that looks decent enough on the outside, it has a sheltered porch and a swinging door. Compared to the rest of town, it actually appears to be holding up pretty well. 

Sounds of laughter and glass touching glass can be heard from within, Someone is even playing music on what sounds like a piano.  

At the door, Séraphine bows with flair, gesturing as if to say after you to both Gretchen and Redfeather.

Gretchen makes the sign of the cross as they pass by the broken sheriff station she says a Hail Mary under her breath, but otherwise walks with purpose toward the saloon. When she gets to the door she'll stop and turn to Seraphine. "You strike me as the type that likes to make an entrance, you go in and we'll follow your lead... Right Redfeather?"

"Bien, if you insist," smiles Séraphine. Turning quickly on her heels, she draws both pistols and kicks the swinging doors open. 

She glances around the room from the doorway and does her best to look intimidating before giving her pistols a spin and holstering them. Then she strides in confidently and heads straight for the bar.

The double doors swing violently inwards from the thrust of Seraphine's kick, the wood cracking and one of the hinges popping loose as a result. The noise within the saloon immediately silences as twenty men stand from their separate tables with their weapons drawn, some have a pistol while others draw daggers or a crossbow. All of them point towards you Seraphine. 

The Bartender watches you approach the bar area, A lanky balding man who looks like he is in need of a hot meal or two. A pair of round glasses on the edge of a rather large nose, he seems more worried about the men who are point their weapons at you then at your presence. 

"Ma-Ma'am.....Best not to do that kinda thing round here.....People are a little jumpy lately." He stutters out in a rather low pitched voice, one that does not suit his face. 

Séraphine stows her pistols smoothly, smiling. "Quite jumpy," she smirks. She walks to the bar but speaks loud enough for those around her to hear. "It is a good thing I wasn't a little mouse, or there might have been some screaming and jumping onto tables, no?"

After a beat, she says, "A rum, if you please. Or whatever liquor it is that one drinks here." 

After getting a drink, she says to the bartender, "You probably hear this a lot, but we are looking for Marshall Gray. You will be so kind as to point him out to us?"

Gretchen slips to a nearby bar stool trying to appear casual

The Bartender appears very nervous once you speak to him, Those in the room slowly begin to sit and go back about their buisness but some; three individuals in particular at a table in the corner closest to the door keep a close eye on your Seraphine. 

"It-its whiskey Im afraid Miss, until the supplies arrive All I can offer you is a glass of St.clairs whiskey." He pours a browish liquid into a rather dirty looking glass and hands it to you Seraphine. 

"The Marshall? Why he-" The Bartender is cut short by a man slamming his glass onto the Front of the bar. The Man has seen many winters, a long gray beard hangs from his chin; stained with tobacco smoke. His skin is weathered and aged, the deep wrinkles all but swallow his eyes. A simple badge hangs on the left side of a yellowed shirt, the badge of a Marshall. "Whos Askin?" He barks, his breath stinking of rotting teeth.