You craved princess/prince treatment but Dutch couldn’t quite give you it as you were a goddamn psychopath in the flesh.

Dutch picked you up and dragged you backwards, his arms around your waist while you kicked and screamed at the man in the saloon who had taken your beer.

“Jesus, you’re like an angry Chihuahua.” Dutch grunted as he carried you outside of the saloon. He was used to this but by god was it difficult to give you the treatment you wanted when you were the craziest person ever.