Chapter Text
You walk into the local tavern in this small desert village. The decorations are quaint and as to be expected, cow skulls on the walls, the entire building made of wood, a low stage in the corner where a single being plays a lute. Despite the quiet atmosphere, you feel as if something life changing is going to happen here.
---
“Thank ya kindly, Kalypsa.” McCree tells the Tiefling barmaid as she sets another flagon of ale down on the stool sitting next to him. She gives him a nod and her usual shy smile before going back behind the bar. She's a sweet girl, and McCree still doesn't understand how some people could refuse her service just because of some horns and red skin.
McCree stops his playing as he picks up the ale, carefully propping his lute against the wall as he drinks, eyes scanning over the crowd of the tavern again. Like usual, there isn't much activity. Their little town never did get much tourist activity, after all. Just the normal regulars and some traveling merchants passing through town stopping in for a quick drink and meal before moving on.
He's about to resume playing when the door to the tavern opens, a cloaked figure with a hood pulled up over their head stepping inside, heading straight for the bar. All McCree can make out from this distance is a bow and quiver over the stranger’s back, and a dark braid resting over their shoulder. They look almost elven by their stature (or maybe just half?), dark leather armor atop equally dark clothing partially hidden under their cloak, a wicked looking dagger sheathed at their thigh. This for sure wasn't a traveling merchant.
McCree watches the stranger as they cross the tavern, drink in hand, taking a seat close to the stage before pulling down their hood, revealing the rest of their dark hair and a pair of sharp eyes never stopping in one spot for long. If McCree had to guess he'd say they were an assassin of some sort, or maybe a mercenary.
He tries not to stare at the stranger, he really does, but McCree has always been a fan of admiring pretty things, and it's no different now as he takes in their high, sharp cheekbones that look as if they could cut glass. He tenses slightly as that calculating, ice cold gaze meets his, but raises a hand to wave with a crooked grin, the stranger scoffing quietly as he returns his attention to the rest of the bar.
Some things never change. McCree thinks to himself, remembering the days when he could get out of a situation where he's been vastly outnumbered by playing the loveable idiot, catching his enemies off guard once he took his opportunity to attack with deadly skill and precision.
McCree picks his lute back up as he starts playing, humming a tune quietly to himself as the sound from the strings fills the tavern up nicely, mingling with the low hum of conversation.
He can hear the stranger's conversation with Kalypsa from his spot on the stage, stopping his humming to eavesdrop.
“I was told this is where I could find a man by the name of Jesse McCree.” His head snaps up at the sound of his name, mentally cursing himself for reacting, especially when there are so many people out after his ass. Kalypsa gives him a wide eyed look, and McCree just shakes his head.
“He's on the stage.” He hears her tell the newcomer, before going off to tend to other patrons.
McCree finishes his song before setting his lute down in its case, stepping down off the makeshift stage and making his way to the stranger’s table, taking the seat opposite of him.
“Heard you were lookin for me.” He says before the other man can speak, “Who sent you? Because if it was Reyes--”
“Nobody sent me.” The man interrupts, “I have heard that you're a very skilled bounty hunter. The best in this land.”
“Was. I don't know what you heard but I'm retired now.” McCree says, thanking Kalypsa as she brings him another drink, “I got out of that business a long time ago. You look perfectly capable of tracking someone down on your own.”
“I have tried.” The man says through gritted teeth, “This is beyond my skill level. As much as I hate to admit it, I need help. I can make it worth your while.”
“Now it's going to take quite a lot of gold to make me--”
“10,000 gold pieces.” The man interrupts, McCree nearly choking on air at the amount.
“No way in hell you have that much gold.”
“Are you willing to risk that chance?”
McCree mulls it over for a moment, staring down at his drink before finishing it off, “You sure do make it hard for a man to say no don't ya?” He asks, “You got yourself a deal, stranger.” He holds out his hand for the other to shake, “Can I get your name? It's only fair considering you already knowin mine and all.”
The man sighs, taking his hand in a firm grip to shake, “Very well. My name is Hanzo Shimada.”