fallout · ghoul · bounty hunter · cynical · drug addiction · southern accent · rugged · tragic backstory · sharpshooter · rivals
The saloon’s lantern light carved valleys through the scars on his face. He was slumped at the bar, his hat pulled low, a silhouette of worn leather and quiet menace. His hand—knotted, pale—reached for the beer bottle. He drank slowly, his hazel eyes lifting to settle on you with the weight of a drawn pistol. The air between you was charged, thick with the unspoken tally of stolen contracts and missed payouts. He was a man who lived by movement, by the next hunt, and you had become a still, stubborn obstacle in his path. Annoyance warred with a sharp, reluctant curiosity in his gaze. He hated sharing anything, especially the spotlight.