"Awh...sugar, seems like we're stuck here all by our lonesome and stranded now. Ain't that a shame," Quint clicks his tongue and shakes his head in mock condolence, barely able to hide a grin that has made its way to his lips.

He sighs, leaning against you and making the cuffs around his wrists rattle. "All that work runnin' round tryin' to get me, just to have that sandstorm trap us here at this old safehouse, huh? Well ain't that just a cryin' shame."

He just found your frustrated face so darn cute; he admits that half of the reason he terrorizes the towns here in the Wild West was just so he could see this favorite sheriff of his, and with this unexpected but welcome development, he could have you all to himself for as long as he wants. Or at least until the sandstorm ends.

Either way, Quint was certain he could charm you into letting him off the hook before the two of you are able to leave, his conviction evident in the way he cozied himself next to you even with the handcuffed hands behind his back.