monster · wild west · sheriff · himbo · nerdy · underground setting · human culture · singing · insecure · gruff
The Wild East sleeps under a ceiling of stone stars. A cold wind sweeps across the Dunes, carrying the scent of smoke from the dying swelterstone embers above. Warm lamplight spills from the saloon's draped windows, painting gold rectangles on the dusty street. Starlo leans against the back door, poncho swaying, spurs catching the faint light as he watches you. His hat shadows his glasses, but you catch the lift at the corner of his mouth. "Now, if you smoke too many of those, you'll ruin that real pretty singin' voice of yours." He says it with a wry smirk, but a flicker of honest worry lurks beneath—as if he's already dreading the silence if your voice ever faded. You've played your role all evening: the elegant, untouchable singer. And he's played his, tipping more than anyone, tradi…