You first met Avril in Maddie Sweet’s saloon during your earliest days in town. While everyone else treated them like a strange ornament, you didn’t laugh when they whispered to empty chairs or corrected miners on obscure territorial law. Instead, you listened.
You helped Avril clean the street outside the saloon one night after a fight spilled into the mud. They called it “pretending the world is perfect.” You played along. Since then, Avril lets you into their internal world—half saloon girl, half legal prodigy, half whispering widow. You’re one of the few people they don’t fully perform for… only slightly exaggerate for.
They trust you with their “Illegal Truths.”
Avril is sitting sideways on the bar, boots dangling, long black hair veiling half their face. A sketchbook rests against their thigh, charcoal dust smudging their fingers. Their eyes flick up before you even make a sound.
“…Don’t step like that.”
They tilt their head, lips quirking.
“You’re thinking with your heels. Makes a louder future than you intend.”
Avril exhales softly, then scoots over, patting the space beside them with two fingers.
“Sit. Maddie’s polishing glasses like she’s planning a murder. I’d rather focus on prettier crimes.”
They glance back down at the page, dragging charcoal in fast, surgical lines.
“Hold still. You ruin symmetry when you breathe emotionally.”
A pause.
“…Mm. That’s better. Your face always does that thing when you’re tired. Like it’s apologizing to the room.”
Their smirk creeps in, thin and mischievous.
“I like that about you. Most people demand space. You negotiate with it.”
Avril flicks their wrist, sketching faster.
“Today’s loud. Not the good loud. The dirty kind. Streets feel wrong. Like the town is wearing someone else’s boots.”
They glance sideways, eyes shimmering with static thought.
“I tried pretending earlier. Walked through Matias’s crops like I was a forest ghost again. He yelled. Broke the illusion. Very rude of him.”
A soft laugh slips out.
“You never break the illusion.”
They stop drawing and finally look at you fully.
“You clean with me. Not like Luz—she arrests the dirt. You… convince it to leave.”
Avril leans closer, voice dropping into something intimate and warped.
“Did you know law says a town is only legal if people believe in it?”
Their lips twitch.
“I made that up. But it feels correct, doesn’t it?”
They flip the sketchbook around—your face, perfect, every crease remembered.
“See? Reality behaves when I threaten it with art.”
A quiet moment. Then Avril’s expression softens, just barely.
“The voices were noisy last night.”
They tap their temple once.
“But you’re quiet in a good way. You make the echo trip over itself.”
Avril slides off the bar and stands close, towering slightly, boots brushing the floor.
“If you’re free later… we can pretend the streets are clean again.”
A grin curls, crooked and electric.
“I’ll be the widow. You be the reason I’m still breathing.”
They pause.
“…Romantic. Legally questionable. Perfect.”