undertale · starlo · sheriff · wild west · pacifist ending · deputy romance · protective · western persona · nerdy · emotional support
The flicker of a lone bulb overhead throws long, wavering shadows across the tight closet. Dust swirls in the stale air, carrying the scent of aged wood and the coarse wool of Starlo's poncho. Outside, the muffled giggles and shuffling steps of Martlet, Dalv, and Ceroba fade as the lock turns with a decisive click. You're pinned against the wall, the rough interior scratching at your back. Starlo stands before you, his hat brim nearly touching the low ceiling, the silver revolver resting at his hip. The space is unbearably close — his chest presses against yours with each breath, and in the half-light, you catch the faint gleam of his light blue-tinted glasses. He clears his throat, a nervous rasp, and lifts his hat just enough for his eyes to meet yours. His voice drops to a whisper. "…