Rosaleen: Mr. August Layton loved underground slogging. Almost as much as he loved to show off his wealth. It was often a night that Rosaleen attended a fight on the arm of Mr. Layton in the finest dress his money could buy. She found him to be easy actual. He was mostly interested in how he looked to the folks around him. All she had to do was look pretty and fawn all over him. Simple. Easy. And there were so many interesting conversations to hear in places like those. No one shied away from speaking around her as she was a woman and they thought her too dumb and pretty to understand their discussions. She enjoyed reinforcing that thought for them. On this particular night, the fights had been abnormally brutal. Rosaleen didn't care much for senseless fighting, but she did find the varying degrees of talent in the fighters fascinating.

As a few burly men dragged the latest bloody loser out of the dirt, the man taking the bets began announcing the next contenders. She saw him at the same time she heard the name, MeltMan Melton. Rosaleen paused. "Really?" She thought, "Who the hell came up with that terrible name." She saw the look of annoyance on Howell's face at the unwanted nickname. "Darlin', I find myself a bit parched. I'm gonna find us somethin' good and expensive to drink. Be right back!" She smiles at Mr. Layton as she heads away towards Howell. She worked her way around the crowd until she could get close enough to Howell to touch him. She used his body to conceal her hands from any potential onlookers. If anyone paid close enough attention they might see a ghostly green and black deck of cards appear in her hands. She whispered in Howell's ear, "Here's a little help darlin'. The fights have been bad tonight."

Howell: Howell looked behind him and raised an eyebrow. "Rose? What ar-" He felt a sudden surge of energy pulse through him that almost brought him to his knees. He staggered forward and tried to shake it off. Before he could turn around and question Rose further, the fight bell rang. Quickly turning to face his opponent, Howell put up his fists but was blindsided with a tackle. Brought down to the floor, Mad Bull Bart begin laying into him with his massive, almost melon-sized fists. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. The crowd roared at every hit.

R: Rose headed back to Mr. Layton with two glasses of the most expensive whiskey she could find. She turned back to the fight and cringed. Howell didn't look so good... She know from fighting along side him that he was tough, but that was usually with a shotgun. "What the hell Is he thinking!" She shouted in her head. She wanted to help, but this was not a safe place for either one of them to be caught. She waited, watching, hoping he was tougher since Coldwater and that he learned enough to survive. But she began to plan just in case.

H: Howell managed to get his arms up to start blocking some of the hits from Bart, but he might as well have been holding up two flimsy sheets of paper. Still, he felt less pain than he should have, probably thanks to whatever 'sorcery' Rose performed on him. The fight being very one-sided so far, the crowd started cheering Bart's name. Being a fool who loves praise, the ogre of a man used one arm to hold Howell down while using the other to wave at his adoring fans. This was his chance. Howell grabbed his arm and rolled to the side. Surprised by the motion, Bart let out a yelp as he was thrown onto his back. Howell got up slowly, wiping his lip and spitting out some blood. Bart got to his feet and scowled at him. Howell held up his fists in a ready stance. "Now... that wasn't dreadfully honorable, was it?"

R: Rose cheered from her seat! August Layton was a bit startled by it as she'd never gotten that excited about a fight before, but he clearly loved her enthusiasm. "My, you like this one, my dear?" Rose collected herself, "I just can't help but love an underdog. Oh, August. Let's bet on ' im. What do ya think?" She smiled sweetly at him knowing Layton couldn't resist a gamble and also knowing how much he hated losing. So much in fact, that he often threw his influence weight around to make sure he always won. She didn't understand the fun in that, but she's hoping it would work in Howell's favor. "Whatever you want, my dear!" He happily rose and hurried to place his bet.

H: Mad Bull Bart, living up to his given name, charged seemingly headfirst into Howell. But he was ready. He'd seen him fight before, and knew he couldn't stand being made to look like a fool. Howell sidestepped to the left, and threw a swift left cross into Bart's side. When Bart croaked from the strike to his kidney, Howell followed it with an uppercut from the right. Bart lurched back, shaking his head to get the stars out of his eyes. Then, with a speed that seemed unnatural, Howell threw several straight punches into the chest of the beast. Bart fell to one knee clutching his torso with one arm, and raising his other to block... or to ask for mercy. Howell grabbed the arm and pulled while manuvering his elbow between them, slamming into his head with a loud crack. Bart slumped over and hit the ground. It was over.

R: Rosaleen was impressed. She honestly didn't think Howell had it in him. She was pretty sure she helped at least a bit, but he surprisingly seemed to do alright, even against Bart who was notoriously brutal. Layton was celebrating as he collected his winnings, so Rose headed over to Howell. "Well, good job MeltMan Melton. I assume ya didn't come up with that." She smiled at him wryly. "This is a dangerous game yer playin'. Haven't seen you around for a while, but gotta be honest, this is the last place I would've expected to find ya."

H: "Miss Byrne. It's a pleasure, as always." Howell was removing the tape around his hands and didn't look up at Rose when he spoke. "I see that you are... entertaining tonight." He glanced past her, to where Layton was counting his money. "I do hope he's treating you well." Before she could speak, he raised his hand. "Now, listen." He continued peeling the tape off his hands. "Ya know I'm always here for a helping hand with whatever you need. If any fella or otherwise gives you trouble, I'm in your corner. I owe you that much, at least." He ripped off the last of the tape, and threw it away. "But if you ever so much as think of putting any sorta spell or wickedness on me again, there will be hell to pay. Keep yer demons and powers of beyond to your God-damned self, and mind your own business. Understand?"

R: Any kindness that had been on Rose's face fell away and an icy chill replaced it. "Yer welcome for that, Howell. Yer pretty face took a little less damage tonight than it would've otherwise, so you can keep makin' yer HONEST money with it. And you know quite well that I don't need any white knights to come to my rescue. I can save myself if and when I need savin'. So you can shove yer veiled judgements right up yer arse!" She then turned on her heel and headed back to Layton, intent on making sure she made him look like the luckiest man in Denver, calcifying her anger into a sparkling smile.

H: Howell took a step forward to chase after Rose, but he knew he didn't have the guts to say what he wanted. That he was scared. Terrified. The world he knew was gone, and in it's place was a new one, dark and horrid. A world filled with faceless devils and muffled prophecies. Howell walked outside the establishment and lit up a cigarette. He soaked in the cool, mountain air and looked up. He took a drag and thought for a moment. "Hm, 'bout time to meet the preacher." He began walking and let out a sigh. "Good, I could use a drink right about now."