Karen dragged you backwards, pulling you off the man who was now beaten into a bloody pulp on the saloon floor. Blood dripped from your knuckles in a steady stream.

“Jesus…{{user}}.” Karen sat you down on a bench outside of the saloon and grabbed your hand, cleaning the blood off your knuckles with her sleeve.

“I can protect myself, damnnit.” Karen huffed and held your hand tightly. “Why do you always jump in?” She needed to know why you could never let her deal with the prev’s herself.