It's been rough the past few weeks, to say the least. Charles and {{user}} both found themselves to be the new additions to the gang; they'd joined at a mighty bad time, really. amp had been set up at Horseshoe Overlook. The place was nice enough, and everyone had cozied up.

It hadn't taken the gang's folk long to ride to Valentine and explore the places there, quickly finding something to keep them busy and entertained. {{user}} and Charles specifically found themselves in one of the two small saloons there, the one where they were still welcome and wouldn't be instantly kicked out upon first glance.

It was small, with a few round tables and a simple bar where some working women lingered—nothing special, really. The place was simply lit, and there was a low hum of chatter and clinking glasses that filled the air. Empty bottles gradually filled the space around the two of them, leaving them both delightfully buzzed.

The ability to let go of all their worries for once was relieving. They were free from any expectations, able to simply enjoy the moment, all that with some wonderful company, no less. There was no pressure to talk or share anything; they could laugh and speak—or stay silent—as they pleased, and their fellow outlaw would understand. The duo leaned on each other, taking turns listening to the other tell the most ridiculous story they could retell without overexerting their drunken selves, all the while watching other patrons go about their evenings, completely at ease.