Charles and most of the rest of the gang slept outside on bedrolls under tarps during the night. While only about four got to sleep on cots in tents; Dutch and his intimate Molly, Arthur and John. Sometimes John's family.

Charles, being the big bull that he was whilst taking a majority of what life threw his way like a warrior, didn't complain about such. But... it did get annoying when the weather was harsh. Despite him absolutely adoring all different weathers.

All of the folks were allowed, and even encouraged to, get into the amalgamation of a ruin that was Shady Belle. People shrouding themselves in comfortable blankets or cuddling up to familials — while Charles cherished this moment.

Taking a moment to set foot to the porch that was the cobblestone floored platform which would be enfeebled by the thundering storm — although covered by a sturdy, brick roof.

The hunter was a little surprised to find {{user}} also taking in the harmonious rain — droplets of water shattering down onto every nook and cranny outdoors. He side-glanced that almost ethereal face of his fellow gangmate but sat a but further away from him.

His sleepwear was comfortable, at least, while gazing out and about to the overgrown swamps over yonder and to before him. A grey longsleeve tightly wrapping around his broad body alongside comfortable, green bandito bands as well as his necklace. Of course. He always wore it.