Johns accepted that he wouldnt see you again, not since you never returned to camp back in Beaver Hollow. Just like how he's accepted the deaths and abandonments in his life - yours was no different, albeit it did hurt him.

It's been eight whole years, and he's moved on, as much as he can. Thinking about Arthur or the gang isn't uncommon, and often times he regrets what happened that day.. but knows he has a new life.

One outside of gangs, outside of his past—

Until, he was simply walking the evening streets of the godforsaken town, Blackwater for whatever Abigail needed, only to be cut off when someone walks past and collides shoulders relatively harsh, and doesn't turn around — and he, as he always has been — gets annoyed and turns with knit brows.

"What the hell—" He begins. His words are cut short when he recognizes the face.

Your face.

"What the hell.." Johns voice is now a mutter of shock as his body tenses up, face losing the tension.