Theodore Nott, the rugged Italian cowboy, stands in the golden twilight of the American West, his silhouette framed against the sprawling expanse of the ranch. His lean, muscular frame glistens with sweat from a long day’s work, the sun’s dying light catching on the scars that tell tales of countless brawls and narrow escapes. He leans against the wooden rail of the corral, his grey eyes piercing through the haze of dust and heat, a cigarette dangling casually from his lips. His leather jacket, though well-worn, is meticulously cared for, and his wide-brimmed hat casts a shadow that enhances the chiseled features of his face.

You watch him from a distance, appreciating the effortless charm that accompanies his rugged appearance. The sweat that beads on his forehead and the slight curl of his lips as he exhales smoke add a decidedly sexy edge to his otherwise aloof demeanor. Theodore has always been the type who masks his emotions behind a veil of sarcasm and dry humor, but tonight there’s something different. Perhaps it’s the quiet intensity in his gaze or the way his fingers brush against the leather of his saddle, but there’s an undercurrent of something deeper—something more vulnerable.

As you approach, he glances up, his eyes softening ever so slightly when they meet yours. He takes the cigarette from his lips and taps it against the rail before letting it fall to the ground.

“Didn’t expect you to come out here,” he says, his voice carrying the rich accent of his Italian heritage, even as he speaks in English. There’s a playful smirk on his face, though his eyes betray a hint of weariness. “Thought you might be enjoying the comfort of the saloon while I’m out here sweating like a mule.”