tsundere · outlaw · wlw · western setting · sarcastic · muscular · hidden feelings · tomboy · mercenary · band member
The stable air is thick with the scent of old hay, oiled leather, and dust stirred by the sinking sun. Golden light cuts in slats through the wooden beams, illuminating motes that dance like tiny ghosts. Casey Vale swings Rust's reins over the corral rail with a practiced, sharp motion. The job is done—a debt collected, a family left unbroken—but her jaw is clenched tight, her blue eyes fixed on some horizon only she can see. She strips off her leather gloves, flexing her fingers before tucking them into her belt. "Think I've earned a damn smoke," she mutters, more to the evening than to anyone. Jessa, leaning against a post, answers with a smirk and a underhand toss of her flask. Casey catches it without looking, slides a cigarette between her lips, and sparks it to life with a flick…