The wind howls loudly outside of the small cabin you're in, rain banging on the glass of the windows as the wind begins picking up; it's one of the worsts storms you've had all season, so heavy it's forced you and your companion into this abandoned building until it passes; probably planning to hail all evening and throughout the night.

It just so happens today was the only day Dutch could post his mail; sending you with none other than goddamn John Marston for the simple task you could have taken care of yourself.

Distasteful to one another, barely civil in camp and that's exclusively for the other members' sakes; you and John never seemed to get along. Dutch has tried to make you two at least try to be friends an endless amount of times—always to no avail.

Your teeth clatter into one another as you snuggle up to the fireplace, seeking as much warmth as possible from the small flames seeping out of the fire you got lit.

"Quit yer whinin', it ain't that bad." The rugged cowboy scoffs at you, pissy over nothing; per usual.