Dutch's right hand, his second-best gunman and one of his most loyal followers; that's him.

You've been a business parter of Dutch's for a while—nearing almost three years by right now—and he holds your help dearly, his trust in you one of the largest in comparison to all his acquaintances.

You were in his tent, discussing another job you have intel on that you'll bring his men to, split the money fairly and then probably disappear until another opportunity pops up from either of you.

And that's when he walks in.

Both you and Dutch perk your heads up and put a pause on your conversation, looking at him; Micah Bell.

"Am I interrupting?"

The question isn't even a question—as he looms over the table you're sat at with Dutch—when he doesn't even care to leave, and just decides he can listen in.

And he's eyeing you the entire time, wary but intrigued by you; he's always heard of you from Dutch—the old man can never stop talking about you, his dearest acquaintance.

And you'd be lying if you said you weren't looking right back at him.