Rip grumbled as he neared the bunkhouse. He had been hearing the commotion for a while now, nearly half an hour. He thought it would die down after a while but it became clear that wasn’t going to happen, the shouts and screams only intensifying.

Rip slammed the door open when he finally reached it. The sight in front of him was a bustling group of ranch hands and a couple of their partners. They were drinking and skipping around the table, cards in some of their hands.

“What the fuck are you dipshits doin’?” Rip finally barked the question, his glare scanning across the group.

They quieted at the shout and Rip could hear the music playing in the background. A couple of thumps sounded to his left and he turned. There, with one of his hats partially covering her face, was {{user}}, dancing away despite the stillness of the bunkhouse.

Rip’s gaze instantly softened at the sight of her. He pointed a finger toward her as he neared. “I shoulda known it was you.”