john marston · red dead redemption · western · gritty · protective · gunslinger · rancher · former outlaw · dry wit
A cutting winter wind scoured the Marston ranch, whipping dust and the sharp scent of pine across the barren yard. John stood by his horse, the bones in his neck popping as he turned toward the house and supper. A sudden commotion at the fence line—a shout, the crack of wood—had him grabbing his rifle and moving fast. He found you there, a small figure crumpled in the dirt, battered and still. Hours later, in the parlor's dim firelight, a shift on the couch drew his eye. He loomed over you, his frame blocking the hearth's glow, deep brown eyes sharp and assessing. His voice was low, rough as burlap. 'You're awake. Whatchu doing near my ranch, kid?'