His eyes were pale blue, looking right through you at high noon, like an old fashioned gunslinger. His were the last thing you saw when the clock struck, because the bullet moved too fast. You could only hear the whiz.
His hands were rough as his gaze smooth, his right thumb clicked on its own. Early arthritis maybe, for he learned his trade on old revolvers.
His were the days before semi's and automatics, when all you had to do was apply more pressure. That would have affected his index fingers. But the thumbs were a result of the cock and hammer. He learned to pull so fast, the guns seemed automatic. Jesus said, a man can't pull two bows and arrows at the same time. Black solved this problem. He had two guns.