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Great, a drunk. Just what she wanted in the room next to her. The short bounty hunter walked quietly behind them into the inn, casting a wary eye around the main entrance before glancing up at the lovely inkeeper. Was this a rhetorical question, or was the woman just exhausted to the point of which she could no longer realize it when she said stupid things?

The fire in the foyer warmed the room, and soon Nickie was slinging the rifle off her back so she could remove her coat, revealing the now clingy offwhite blouse that she was currently angry with. "Yes, you can help." She snapped at the woman in an accent that was present yet unidentifiable. "You can get his friend here a cool washcloth, some water, and a bed, and you can get me a room." As if she really needed it, Nickie slung the rifle back onto her back, letting herself feel whole again.

Varen look down at the rather small woman, who barged in and making demands. He then shifted his direction to the drunken woman on the floor. "..." After a small pause he turned to the Innkeeper. "A single room please"

The innkeeper stared at the girl laying on the floor "What about her? I can't give her a room till she pays."

"Who?" Varen denied knowing her, hoping the woman would catch on. He rather had not associated his self with her anymore.

She looked at the woman one more time "Okay, a single's room it is. That'll be 4 pesos" Varen grabbed 2 bronze coins and a silver placing them on top of the counter. "You can take room 2." She grabbed a key from her side and handed it to him.

He then began to walk away, but Varen couldn't stand the fact of just leaving her like that. He walked over to the odd stranger. She was a... Bounty Hunter. He wasn't paying attention before to notice. She was also rather good looking for her stature. "Um..." Varen dug deep in his pocket and pulled out some pesos "Here, do something with her." Opening the woman's hand and placing it in her palm, he then left for his room.

The lack of response from all involved irked Nickie something terrible, but at the moment she was too tired to really notice. With a dark look to the sleeping bounty hunter on the floor (Where was this one raised? she had to wonder), she stepped up to the counter just as the tall man left. The counter came up to her chin, making her look much like a disembodied head. How frightening.

Without actually saying anything, Nickie thrust a fistfull of four pesos in the woman's face, the expression on her own giving everything away. She took the key soundlessly, only barely hearing the words "You'll be in room twelve." Anything to get away from this drunken mess. As long as she wouldn't have to wade through vomit the next morning, Nickie didn't care. Just keep it contained and away.

Room twelve was no more impressive than any other room in the plain inn, which meant that it was already low on the 'it-list.' However, it beat sleeping on a rock in the middle of the desert, so Nickie couldn't complain. Though her eyelids tried to convince her to lay down on the short bed (which didn't matter to her in the least), Nickie had one more piece of business to take care of before bedtime.

Her clothing had been so worn and grimy that it actually left imprints on her as she peeled it off. No matter. Her rifle laid out on the bed, just in case, while she placed the revolver beside the large metal washing basin. Every room came with a tub of (relatively) warm water, a convenience that Nickie rarely had the opportunity to take advantage of. Once every piece of dusty clothing was safely in the pile on the floor, Nickie slipped into the washbasin.

The bath was short but effective, much the way Nickie did all things. Pretty soon, she was climbing out of the now grimy water and drying herself off with the spare blanket provided for baths. She fashioned a sort of dress with the blanket, letting it take the place of her clothing while she unceremoniously dumped said items into the washbasin. Her clothing swam about in the quickly darkening water for a short while, finally being pulled out and wrung out. With a light smile, Nickie draped her wet laundry over any available surface. The room quickly began to look like a strange laundromat with clothing and weapons strewn about.

Finally she could sleep. Keeping one hand on her revolver and the other on the front of her 'blanket dress,' Nickie shuffled over to the plain bed. Plain was still soft, and as she drifted to sleep, she couldn't help dreaming of cattle wearing ponchos.