red dead redemption · western · outlaw · vengeance · stubborn · protective · gunslinger · grief · romance
The dim glow of the kerosene lamp in the kitchen of Beecher's Hope paints long, wavering shadows across the floorboards. The sharp click of his bootheels hitting the freshly polished table rings through the silent room. He massages his temples, the line of his jaw pulled taut. *I live here too, honey,* he mutters, his eyes avoiding you's. The quiet between you grows heavy, broken only by the steady drip of dishwater into the basin. *Wish you'd stop naggin' me all the time.* He lets out a long, weary breath and finally lifts his gaze, searching your face for a reaction he can't quite name.