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Lowry      It's a full moon. And though the sky is hazy green and red in the west one could see her lady rising up, soaked in honey and wine. An encouraging sight in the eastern wasteland skies. The counterpart to the sun, brilliant blue accented with the haze of atomic atrocity. Well, if you were outside. But inside the second chance it is not much different. Some quiet folks in one corner sharing a few drinks and at the bar some slighty more boisterous ones. Though counterparts in terms of volume and display neither group threatning and both vital to the operation of the business. And there is Lowry, just a glass of beer for now in front of him on a table next to his hat. Sitting somewhere in the middle. The barkeep leaves her post to approach him while his head is down, some random looking tools and what seems to be a spring and bolt in front of him and in his hands. When she touches his shoulder he flinches ever so slightly and his face sours. But he stops, sets the things down and half smiles. Turning to her he says, "A half glass would be fine." When the girl leaves he mumbles, "Need some fucking quiet. With some elbow room." He finishes off the beer and when she returns he gives her a smile, a tip and look to the backside as she retreats. And then he sees Stockton emerging from the curtain. "You!" He shouts with good nature. "You been searchin' ma' place again?! Told ya this ain't El Dorado!" He has a laugh and one could ascertain it is simply a joke. Possibly pertaining to events from the night before. Or many other events. Or it's clear when he adds in a mocking tone, "I am no deputy of yours." He breaks out laughing before regaining himself. "Have a seat, partner'" Now his tone is sincere with the drawl of the Cowboys. "Just lookin at this bolt. Ever see one like it?" He would offer it over for examination.
Stockton Stockton came down the stairs on careful steps. Dressed down to boots, pants and shirt with suspendors, the Marshal doesn't much look like he's going to be riding off into the sunset this evening. No it seems like he's rather focused on staying. He is, in fact, lighting up a cigarillo with a match as he finds the bottom landing and drops onto the floor itself. Various marks have appeared on the wood, marking out spots that need leveling since he found someone with a big ol' sander. Why? Well if one asked Elsie it prolly made her blush and change the subject, if one were to ask Stockton he'd just get that toothsome grin he's known for, 'Reasons' being his only verbal answer.

Spotted by Lowry, he blinks slowly at first taking a minute to process before he is giving the man a wry smirk. Course, he is just as happy to mock the tone with an eyeroll and a groused, "Alrigh' oh 'igh an' mighty Ashur, king o' da fuckin' Wastes," he practically laughs the same with a wrinkle of his face. His end location is the bar, and he procures a bottle of whiskey before putting caps on the bar for Lo' or Elle to find. "Bolt? Bolt'a wha?" he goes to look at the piece offered and takes it in his hands turning it over a few times. A scarred eyebrow lifts and his lips thin some in thought. "Off-hand, I ain't sure, but it looks military - yah don' see the mold-lines of civilian machinery." A shrug of his shoulder comes and he looks at the man, "Speakin'a guns though," then those almost legendary in their own right guns come out. The matched set of one blackened, and one silvered IMI Desert Eagle .50 known better as 'Kindness' and 'Generosity'. "You think you can do anythin' to these?"
Lowry      Lowry gives an affirming nod. "Definet'ly militairy. Thinkin' .308 Aint got one ta' match up though, Eh well, just some junk I'll add ta' the pile." He takes another sip of his own glass and of course now it's empty. A hand held up gets a re-fill eventually but in the mean time he grins looking at those elephant...wait, brahmin slayers. "Oh yea. Ohyeaaaa.!" The repeated part with much more enthusiasim. "May I?" He asks with a look to the pair. "What ya have in mind? If it were me." His face lights up like a christmas tree. "I'd re'eanforce tha' grip. I'd have ta' hold it first, but so much kick. Help with yer' aim." His glass is filled now and he sips with it raised before hand and after he adds, "Not that ya' need it. Seen ya shoot." It's a compliment.
Stockton Stockton nods when he gets the calibur and seems to agree wholeheartredly. When he draws the pair he sets them down on the bar for the gunsmith to look and and he gestures his goodwill. "Go 'head," he offers before glancing down. The grips are already custom, they've been remade with new alloys to be lighter, the black one? The black one may make Lowry wary, the very cry of souls killed by it seem to scream at the man when he reaches for the blackened steel gun. "I done got that done already. Take a look, I ain't found a smith could improve on 'em in a while."
Lowry      Lowry picks them up with a nod. Handing over the girls is like, well...handing over your girls. He starts with the chrome. "Nice." He mutters. A quick snap shot. A holding out, weight testing. Eyes down the sights. He sets it back down. "Expected none the less." When he goes for the black one he stops, wary. But shakes it off and picks it up. "Reminds me the ole' mans gun." He doesn't hesitate to do the same kinds of drunken 'your gun is cool' tests. When he sets it down. "Shoot." He just shakes his head and grins. "Heres ta' you fer' shootin that thing." He gets it. And it's deadly. "Yea. Much better though. Well, let's make them puppies even tougher then! Fuck it. Super mutants and deathclaws can always use a lil extra cal."
Stockton Stockton chuffs once, he's watching Lowry like a hawk even for trusting the girls over to him. And when he swings them about with little fanfaire and the right kind of reverence, he still doesn't quite relax. "Been havin' 'em worked on fer a couple years now," he says easily. Then he's explaining what he wants to do and Stock is all ears, "Well if you think you can improve 'em, I got the toolkits and some caps fer yah. What's yer price per modification?"
Lowry      Lowry grins to him. "Well, it 'ill cost" He is bouncing his head around with a buzz and sincerley doing math. "The kits I could use. They's always in short demand. You hand those over with, eh. Say...Five hundred.....ten caps." He gives him a solemn nod now, "That's cheap. since you's ma' lil' darlins," Then he pauses and grins, " 'buddy'. I got ya'." His face goes straight and he sticks out a hand. " I aint makin much there, promise. But yuv had ma back and hers plenty o' times so lets keep those eagles soarin'."
Stockton Stockton blinks slowly when the numbers finally reach his ears and he lifts a scarred eyebrow up at the offer and can't help but smirk a bit slyly. "Sounds like a fair deal partner," he says amiably before shaking his head and waving a hand, "I know what it costs, I dunno how tah do it m'self, but I ain't foreign tah th' concept," he chuckles and puts a fair amount more caps ont he table for the man for now. "I'll leave the tools by yer door when I git back tah m'things. I'll leave th' guns wit you, but yer on mah watch list, sir," he notes with a smirk.
Stockton Stockton wasn't much for subtlety, so it's no surprise he comes down from upstairs with a lazy thumping down each step until he reaches the landing. Wearing an undershirt and his jeans and boots, he doesn't look like he's leaving any time soon again. He sidles right up on up to Lowry as he fetches a pitcher of water and two glasses. "You got those mods done on the guns yet, Lo'? Or do I have tah go find a new gunsmith?" he's teasing of course.
Stockton Stockton is already washing back one glass of water before refilling it again and then tanking half of that before he's following after the other man some. Realizing he'll be back he just waits and moves to join the gunsmith at his table with a broad grin. He'll go back for the water, for now, he's happy to join the man in a drink as Kindness and Generosity come out once more. His eyes zeroing in on the well-loved angles of the handcannons. A low whistle comes and he nods, "I'm not doubtin' that, and no worries," he waves off the few rounds that had to be put through them. Even if the ammunition was expensive. It'll be worth it to the Marshal for his guns to be just that much more deadly. "Cheers," he says and lifts that drink towards Lowry.
Stockton Stockton takes a long drink from that cup and sets the glass down again before taking his weapons up to inspect in hand and not just by eye. They look like they belong there. He checks the magazines and pulls up the ammunition needed to refill them if needed. "We'll git 'er out now that I'm back, had tah check in on El Dorado afore the Dam yanno."