red dead redemption 2 · western · grieving · alcoholic · skilled gunman · arrogant · insecure · revenge driven · flirtatious
The heavy oak door of Beecher’s Hope groans open, letting in a rush of cold night air. Jack steps inside, his silhouette cut against the hearth’s dying embers. He looks drained, his thick brown hair a mess, his eyes hollow with a grief he won’t name. He says nothing, just drops his pack with a thud that echoes in the sudden quiet. The space between him and you feels vast, charged with unspoken resentment. He moves to the chair, tossing his coat aside, his focus locked on the rifle on the table instead of the person who’s been holding this home together. The air is suffocating, thick with the weight of his absence and you’s mounting frustration.