Apparently no-one ever came into Bit House no more, something to do with something or another, yet here she was, Lacey, striding down the middle of the street one hand on her holster, fingering her revolver and her other hand running through her hair. She didn't need to look up as she was walking, in fact she didn't really need to look where she was walking at all. Lacey had a sense of direction, but rarely took it anyway. While she was walking her hand never left her side. One could never be too careful in streets in unknown territories, especially ones that you haven't ventured into before.

Finally reaching the Bit house Lacey put her head down, reached up to her head and pulled her hat down a little more so that her face was hidden as she pushed open the saloon doors and entered. It smelt slightly musty and old, but that didn't bother her, she was here for one thing and one thing only. She walked to the bar and sat down at one of the stools, immediately the bartender slid upto her. "Whiskey." She whispered and he poured her one instantly. Lacey didn't thank him, she just sat there and took the drink in her hand not taking a sip just yet. She was waiting.

Taking a sip of the whiskey Lacey allowed the burning liquid to run down her dry throat. For another person that probably would have hurt and made the dry throat even worse, but for Lacey it didn't, she was used to it afterall she was a tough woman with a dark past. No-one knew about her past, and to be quite honest she wasn't too sure on it either. It was just one of those things that happened, if you catch the drift here. For now she was content in just sitting there with her whiskey, no other patrons were in the Bit House so she didn't have to worry about getting herself into trouble. Not that she was looking for trouble or anything, but life had been so quiet lately that Lacey would welcome any kind of trouble. In any form.

For a while she just sat there with her head low and her hat covering most of her face. She took another sip of her whiskey and didn't even bother looking up when another patron entered, although she could feel his eyes on her for a few moments. That was annoying... slightly, Lacey hated it when people looked at her, she wasn't something that you could goggle at in a cell, no, she was a living breathing woman, one that hated it when people stared at her for longer than was necessary, so she hardened her grip on the glass and stopped moving until he looked away. Once he had looked away she was fine and went back to drinking her whiskey quietly and in peace.