This wasn't the first time Chip had been surprised, but it was definitely the first time he'd been surprised by something like this. The ferret's throat tightened - Well, so much fer blowin' him t'Kingdom Come, he thought, wryly. He took a step back. "How come you ain't dead?" He hated that his voice sounded so unsure - sod all this roleplaying, anyways. He had to warn Rango.
"You any good at footraces? 'R do yer legs not grow back when ya use 'em?" He snickered, spunk returned. "Ya want Melander? Catch me if ya can."
(And that's why Chip is not Sheriff XDD)

Chio couldn't help but throw an extra dose of theatrics as he strode out of the saloon. He was enjoying this too much. He planted himself in the middle of the street, mere paces from the big lizard. inwardly, he cringed, almost second-guessing this scheme.
Knock it off! He told himself, harshly. Jus' give 'im what-for, then let those blowhards figger out th'rest!

"I reckon you wanted t'see me? Though in all seriousness, I'd much more 'preciate a little handwritten note, 'r a bouquet. Standoffs ain't really my thing." He shrugged, exaggeratedly. "Sheriff Addison Wilder. Might I have th'semi-pleasure of inquirin' YOUR name?"

(Ooh! Conflict :3)
Chip growled as he slid off his stool. To hell with this headache- that shouting wasn't doing any good to help with that- and the sooner he shut this newcomer up, the sooner he could have peace.
"Hold it, Sheriff," the ferret pulled up smartly in front of the chameleon. "This calls fer a diversion. Get what's-his-name someplace other'n here." He turned to Bill and the rotter. "If yer as any good with a gun as ya say, bet ya wouldn't mind showin' off, huh?" He smirked, pulling on his hatbrim and reaching for his blade.
"Showtime." He was looking forward to this.

Chip swiveled around to face the lizard. He paused to consider his words. "I'm... currently retired," he replied, casually. He examined his glass. "An' I'm a blade kinda guy. Guns 'draw' attention, pun intended,"

Chip grunted as he slumped to the floor, not quite out, but more than a little dazed. His head pounded ever harder than before. This meant war. "Oy runt!" He snarled. "Never turn yer rotten back on someone who ain't out cold!" Chip grasped the stool behind him and swung viciously, kicking out at the lizard's feet to upset his balance at the same time.

That done, Chip swayed a little as he turned towards the stranger. "If y'all wanted pure intentions, don't go announcin' things like 'treasure' in a saloon, mate," he spat.

(That last part had me in stitches )

Chip snickered. "I don't fight with guns... duels end too quickly. Pick up a blade, an' then let's talk," he turned a rather impatient huff to Buford. "Prairie oyster... 'member? Hangover an' all?"
And then his ears pricked. "Hold the damn phone," he muttered, surprised. He swung around on his barstool, eyes settling on Melander. "An' who's this?" He demanded.

(I'm having waaaay too much fun makin' him angry )

Chip tilted his head, and sneered. "Didn't know you were takin' surveys. What's with this?" He gestured with a paw. "If that's s'posed t'be a disguise, you blew it like... now, actually." The ferret snickered. "Next time, try keepin' yer mouth shut."

Swiveling towards Stirrup, Chip folded his arms and smirked. "Chip is who the hell I be. Chip Ferret, former Outland Boy. It'd be about the time t'start shakin' in yer shoes, boy." He snorted, derisively and mosied over to the bar counter, a stool away from the Gila and the Zebra-Tail. "Prairie oyster, an' make it snappy," he murmured at Buford, rubbing his temples.

"So, now who the hell you be?" Maroon eyes flickered to the Gila's companion.

Chip came to with a headache the size of Nevada against the side of the old Mayor's office. Well, the late-Mayor's office. The ferret groaned as his head sort of lolled to the side. Gads, he could barely move. What happened last night, anyway?

Chip managed to force himself up to a more-or-less 'no, I didn't just wake up with a massive hangover' position and squeezed his eyes shut. Waffles. He remembered Waffles, alright... Suddenly the sound of gentle snoring caught his keen ears and the ferret whirled to face a snoozing Waffles laying just beside him, a nearly-empty bottle of cactus juice still clenched in his claw.

Hangover momentarily forgotten, Chip scrambled backwards and then onto his feet, bracing himself against the side of the building. "Waffles! Wake up!" His voice sounded little better than a dry tap, but it did the trick. Waffles grunted and blinked once, bleary eyes red in the early light.

"Wha... happened?"

"That's what I'm askin' you, brainless! What's th' matter with ya, anyway? Don't you got a room?!"

"...Don't you?" The reply wasn't irritated, merely confused. "...Ya live here, don'tcha?"

Chip grabbed around for his hat and stuck it hard on his head, ignoring the question. Of all the times he'd woken up in a strange situaiton... this little ringer took the cake! "Get up," he growled, "an' get cleaned up." He started off for the Saloon.

(Sorry, probably should have asked if anyone was playing Waffles.... O_o)

I use paper and pencil more nowadays, and then I just scan it in, lol. I use my tablet for touchups mostly :3

Oy vey! The time, where does she go?! O_o
Congrats on the anniversary, Nahla!!