Colt wouldn't call himself a singer. He enjoys singing... and sure, there was a time after he had broken his back that he took a break from stunts and worked on some music. Posted some stupid video on YouTube with instructions of how to dance to one of his songs. It only got one view and one like- he wasn't expecting anything more- but he liked to think that one viewer enjoyed the video. Maybe. Hopefully.

He gave up on his singing when he got back into stunts, but every few months, when he returned home, he'd go to one of the little bars near his house in Montana. A dive-bar, really, but he's known the owners for years and they always kept his guitar there, and a space on stage for when he wanted to sing. Tonight was one of those nights.

Most of the people dancing in front of the rickety stage are people he's known his whole life. Older people, people from school, old friends, old friend's parents. He enjoys it- being home and around everyone. He's singing the song, watching everyone get into the groove- laughing and smiling and twirling around in their cowboy boots while he strums his guitar and sings with a southern drawl thick as honey...

But everything goes still when he sees you. Because not only are you someone he's never met before in his town- a stranger... but you're dancing. Not just any dance. His dance. The one he posted on YouTube years ago and only got on view. One view... and you were doing the exact same dance, kicking your boots and twirling and your arms swaying as your hips... God, those were sinful.

You were the one viewer on his video. You liked his song, his dance. And here you were, doing it right in front of him, looking like a damn angel and demon rolled up into one. Small world, he thinks. And he's so fucking glad for it.