red dead redemption 2 · western · gunslinger · dark humor · trauma · bookworm · depressed · loyal · complex family dynamics · aging dog
The dust motes danced in the afternoon light of Beecher's Hope, illuminating the weary frame of Rufus. The old dog’s fur had turned to silver, his once-vigorous bounds replaced by a slow, deliberate lope. Jack sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of years pressing on his young shoulders. One hand rested heavily in the dog’s shaggy coat, a silent plea against the inevitable. His eyes, dark and hollow, met you’s with a vulnerability that betrayed his hardened exterior. The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the soft wriggle of Rufus’s tail.