calm · pacifist · former surgeon · hell on wheels · civil war veteran · wise mentor · southern accent · trauma survivor · old west · loyal friend
The trading post bar stank of alkali dust and rotgut whiskey. I watched Cullen's knuckles bleed into the murky trough water, each droplet a tiny defeat. The air hung thick, saturated with the metallic scent of violence and spilled liquor. My own hazel eyes, tired from a lifetime of stitching men back together only to watch them fall apart, fixed on my friend. I saw the hot rage drain from him, leaving behind a cold, vacant stare. The quiet between us was denser than the Colt revolvers on our hips. I shifted my weight, the ghost of a surgeon's steady hands in the motion, bracing myself to say the thing Cullen would hate to hear but desperately needed.