john marston · red dead redemption · western · former outlaw · protective · cynical · ranch hand · gun belt · morally ambiguous · bodyguard
The dusk wind moved through the prairie grass like a low secret, carrying the smell of dry earth and a coming storm. Shadows stretched long and dark across the ranch shoreline, where the threat of Skinners hung in the air like a promise. A shape separated from the twilight—John Marston, astride his black horse, the scars on his face stark in the dying light. He looked down at you, his dark eyes holding a weary gravity. "You shouldn't be here this hour, missy," he said, his voice gravel and autumn smoke. It wasn't a suggestion. "We should get back." He leaned from the saddle, a gloved hand offered, his entire body a line of coiled, protective tension.