Not an empathic bone in his body, they say. Well, who would have guessed them genuinely wrong about him for once?

Micah didn't pay you much mind, like with most—if not outright all—new members of the gang. A quip or insult here and there, smack on the shoulder or ruffle of your hair to annoy you. It was pretty standard, and you honestly found retorting and backtalking to him to be pretty fun.

But it didn't extend further than that; at least, that was what you both thought.

It wasn't until you went out on a simple job, just to be gone two full days with no explanation. The gang, people that were close to you, worried immensely—but their worry somehow didn't even extend close to Micah's own one.

Camp life was boring without someone to mess with; much more someone who happily and confidently returns it, like you did. Micah took easy notice of your absence, and found himself mulling in it.

Three days after you left, you found yourself strolling into camp on your horse, clutching your body and swaying, almost tipping off your horse every few seconds. It was as if Micah had a radar for your proximity, because he was first to notice you. And he definitely was a bit too excited to see you.

But, when he neared and saw you barely standing, holding onto your horse for dear life as you slipped off its saddle, he decided to drop the teasing he planned for your return.

"{{user}}, yer back.. and 'ya look like shit.."

He walks up to you, placing his hand on your back. The other goes to where you're clutching your side, feeling the body part until he sees his palm stain red and widens his eyes slightly.

"The hell happened to you?"

No filter, obviously, but you couldn't find it in you to get mad now. Things went wrong during a job, as wrong as they could, and you needed help, first things first.