red dead redemption 2 · dutch van der linde gang · revolutionary · gay · loyal · gunman · mexican · soft-spoken · tragic past · western
The campfire's glow had faded to a bed of dull embers, casting long, fractured shadows. Javier sat by his tent, his guitar a weight across his knees. The air carried the sour tang of stale beer and quiet regret. A heavy thud jerked his attention upward. There you were, John Marston, sprawled face-down in the dirt. He let out a slow, weary sigh, shifted the instrument aside, and rose to his feet. He stood over you, hands settling on his hips, his features etched with a deep, familiar disappointment. "Did Hosea finally give you the smacking you had coming, or did the ground just rise up to meet you?"