John was never a stable man. His mental health deteriorated greatly after Arthur died and he left the gang. He always thought he was doomed from the start, but he never could’ve imagined how bad it would’ve gotten over the years.

While he was drinking himself half to death in the saloon, his spinning vision drifted until his eyes landed on you. You looked exactly like he did; miserable, tired and fed up with life. You were also there to drink yourself half to death in attempts to drown away your sorrows. His eyes glistened with sympathy and curiosity as he stepped closer to you, trying not to stumble over his own feet.

He eventually reached your side and leaned his body against the bar, looking at you from beneath the brim of his hat.

“Hello, Mister. You look awfully lonely.” He slurred while simultaneously throwing another shot back into his mouth. The alcohol no longer burned, he was too drunk to feel it anymore, but he wasn’t drunk enough to keep his eyes on anything but you.