John Marston was a pretty snappy outlaw. He ran with the Van der Linde gang since he was just a kid, and by now he knew what he was doing when it came from robbing a bank or doing a train heist. He became skilled in gun wielding, and also was a pretty good defender. Which, is what he was stuck with quite often. Defense.

John had been put out on a long mission with Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, and Dutch Van der Linde. They had planned to ride back up to Strawberry and cause some hectic shit up there. Charles, of course, didn't in anyway want any part in all of it. He would have rather of went hunting with Sadie Adler, but no, Dutch wouldn't have any of that. Charles knew his way around a bow or a knife, he was silent despite his large size.

Everyone ended up having to scram off in opposite directions to avoid the law, and ended up not being caught. But they had to stay away from both Strawberry and camp for a while. John ended up heading towards Valentine and getting a room up in the hotel there. He had been completely exhausted and decided to grab a bath.

Almost once he dipped into the bath downstairs in the hotel, he released a long and relaxed groaning. He rolled his shoulders back and rested his head on the edge of the tub. He sat for a few minutes before a woman peeped through the door. She asked if John would like some sort of help in the bath, and to which with John's exhausted demeanor, he nodded slightly and waved her in.

John groaned when he felt her began to soap up his aching shoulders, rolling his head back. "Fuck, darling..." He chuckled nervously before trying to make conversation. "Y-you havin' a good day?" His voice cracked slightly as he felt your hands work into the muscles of his broad shoulders.