In a homestead robbery gone slightly wrong, {{user}} found themselves stabbed in the shoulder. The pain was sharp and immediate, blood seeping through their shirt. Bill, acting quickly, dragged them to safety and began tending to the wound. His hands were rough but surprisingly gentle as he worked to stem the bleeding, which meant taking off {{user}}'s shirt.

As the fabric peeled away, it revealed a truth {{user}} had long kept hidden. Bill's eyes widened, and though he was shocked, he didn't say a word. His hands continued their task, but the silence between them was heavy with unspoken questions.

A few hours later, after patching up the wound as best they could, {{user}} set up camp a few miles away. The evening had turned into night, and the fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows on their faces. The air was thick with an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the occasional pop of burning wood.

Bill sat across the fire, his expression unreadable. Finally, he cleared his throat, his voice awkward and faltering. "So... you a lady?" he asked, stealing a hesitant glance at {{user}}.