Within seconds Jed was on the ground, the Marshal standing over him and glaring down at him.

"There's one thing you need to learn, and you need to learn it now," she said softly, quietly, menacingly. "That is you never. Ever. use something that made someone mad enough to kill against them after they've had a glass. You're very lucky that I have the slightest interested in your continued well being. Very lucky."

The sheriff grabbed a chair leg and pulled himself to his feet, except, when he was finally standing... Well, he was still holding the chair. Then just like that, the chair was swinging towards the Marshal's head.

The Marshal held up her arm to protect her face and ducked, catching half of the weight of the blow on her arm, then kicked Jed in the kneecap as she grabbed the chair and wrestled it away from him before throwing it across the room. It shattered into a mirror.

"So now you're brawling, like some drunk Pole. You realize that, as Sheriff, you're supposed to break up fights, not start them, right?"

"My grandmother was a Pole, yah jerk." He yelled from his bent over position, after determining that his knee was most certainly going to bruise, he said heck with it and rugby-tackled the Marshal over a poker table, sending cards everywhere before they slid off the other side in a heap of chips.

"No wonder you're fighting like a drunk Pole, then," the Marshal grunted as the back of her head smacked on the floorboards. She glared at Jed, who was now on top of her, and jerked her knee up into his groin. "Get off me."

"Golly gosh darnit! That hurt!" Jed dumbly exclaimed as his writhed around among broken pieces of the table, eventually sliding off the Marshal. "You know, if I was stone drunk right now. This would be a lot different!'

"You are stone drunk, you idiot," the Marshal said, shoving Jed over, rolling onto her stomach and then pushing herself up from the ground. "You wouldn't try fighting me if you weren't. Now get up."

The sheriff hopped to his feet. "Yeah. Because then I'd be smart enough to know that you'd woop my butt. Gladly. I'm feeling pretty dumb at the moment." And with those words of wisdom, he took another swing.

"Apparently," she muttered. The Marshal ducked, then whirled around and clocked Jed in the face with her elbow. She skittered away, still ready to strike, but waiting to see how well Jed would react. She was beginning to get annoyed with his obvious fascination with getting his clock cleaned.

Jed was promptly knocked to the ground. "I probably deserved that." He hopped up again, this time though, he grabbed his whiskey bottle and promptly left the establishment.

"You..." the Marshal grit her teeth and said nothing more, and threw some coins on the counter for Hugh. She turned and stepped out, trailing behind Jed.

"Jedediah Avery Moyer!" she shouted. He didn't turn or acknowledge her.

"Oh for pete's sake," the Marshal muttered, drawing her pistol and pulling the hammer back. The pop of the compression system made the gun fairly quiet compared to most weapons, and a second later, the Marshal heard the wonderful sound of shattering glass. She smiled grimly, twirled her pistol around her finger, then holstered it.

As he stormed back to his apartment when suddenly his hand was assaulted by glass from the shattering whiskey bottle. Jed stood their for a few moments as his hand began to trickle blood. "Gosh dang it, Marshal. Why don't you just freaking leave?" He didn't turn around, he didn't want to give her the satisfaction. The sheriff then proceeded on his way back to his apartment.

The Marshal watched as Jed made his way back to the jail, then followed, stopping outside to listen to the clomp of his boots to ascertain that he was, indeed, upstairs. After a moment, she slipped in herself. Caldwell looked up at her, but she held up her finger and glared at him.

"Not a word," she said, taking her coat off and throwing it on the desk, then unpinning her hat and laying it next to her coat. Her utility belt followed a moment later. She kicked off her boots, then hopped up into Jed's sheriff chair, tucking her feet beneath her. After curling up and making herself sufficiently comfortable, her small fingers stretched out and grabbed the coat again, and she wrapped it around her. Then she blew out the lantern and sat, waiting for sweet Morpheus to wrap his arms around her.

Unfortunately, on that particular evening, he wasn't a very ingratiating lover. She spent most of the night sleeping fitfully, or alternating between staring at the one bloodstain she hadn't been able to remove from the floor and studying Caldwell, as if she hadn't had enough time to do so over the past few days of travel.

First light was welcomed by the Marshal, moreso than any other being. Still in her stocking feet, she quietly scaled the stairs to the apartment, skipping the steps that she knew would complain the loudest about being stepped on. Jed had apparently fastened the latch, but that did little to stop the Marshal from entering, since he had also kindly punched a hole in the door for her to reach through and let herself in. The room was empty, and all of her things were left untouched, so it did not take her long to gather them up and retreat down into the jail. She arranged them on Jed's desk and slipped out, on the hunt for water to at least wash her face with, which sometimes could be quite the feat in Sagebrush Crossing. She finally returned, the hair around her face slightly wet, and began sorting through her things, casting a sideways glance at Caldwell every now and again.

Caldwell had spent one of the least restful nights of his life in his cell under the eye of the Marshal. She had at least attempted to sleep in the sheriff's chair, but every time Caldwell had ventured a glance over at the woman, she was staring at him. It gave the outlaw leader more than a few unhappy twinges in his stomach, especially with some of the late Abraham Lincoln's blood on the floor still.

He finally drifted off to sleep, utterly exhausted, when the sun started to rise. It was later than he was used to, since the massive metal wall surrounding the town blocked the initial rays of the sun. He didn't rest long as the Marshal slipped back in, looking like she'd refreshed herself a bit.

The Marshal finished arranging her things, then began to arrange herself for travel. Her utility belt, freshly repacked, went on, as did the boots, with perhaps a few more weapons than usual stowed inside them. She slipped her coat on, then walked over to stand outside of Caldwell's cell. This was, perhaps, the first time that she was seeing him without her hat hiding her face. She wondered if that would mean anything to him or not, but shrugged off the thought. Instead she just stood there, arms crossed, and stared at him.