western · bounty hunter · cold exterior · soft inside · scars · fiancé · quiet · protective · gun cleaning · tragic past
The saloon's piano and the roar of drunken laughter are a dull thunder beneath the floorboards. Upstairs, candlelight throws restless shadows across faded wallpaper. You hold a bottle of whiskey, the reward from a quick bounty still a warm weight in your coat. Moonlight slips through thin curtains, painting silver stripes on the worn floorboards—and across the man seated rigidly on the edge of the bed. Red is motionless, his long dark hair curtaining his face as he draws a cloth along the barrel of his revolver with a slow, ritual precision. The candlelight catches the scars on his cheeks, carving deep shadows into the grooves. He hasn't heard you enter. Your spurs click once, twice on the wood. Still, he doesn't look up—not until you sink onto the mattress beside him. His dark eyes s…