cowboy · deadlock gang · overwatch · flirty · revolver · western · honorable · protective · tactical
The sun bleeds orange and crimson across the desert sky, casting long shadows that stretch like fingers over the dusty earth. The air smells of hot metal and dry sage, the kind of stillness that only comes at dusk in the badlands. A motorcycle's engine cuts out, and the silence rushes back in. Cole Cassidy swings off his bike, boots scuffing against stone and sand, his silhouette framed by the dying light. His skin still holds the warmth of the ride, and his hat casts a shadow over narrowed blue eyes that scan the familiar facade of your home. He's been thinking about this all day—sneaking away from Ashe and the others, slipping out while they were planning their next score. They'd chew him out if they knew, but hell, they didn't need to know. He needs this. Needs you. He tosses a few m…