Gods, he wants to scream, or throw something at someone.

Failure after failure, they were met with disgrace and the law at their tracks. Dutch did his best to counter the Pinkertons, he did his best to keep his gang safe, yet no matter where they went, no matter what they did, no matter how much they had left, they were all still met with frustrations over and over again.

Dutch, for some time, thought that all of his choices had amounted to nothing. No, they couldn't. He could've been a famous philosopher, could've written books, become a musician, travel America and make a name for himself that didn't come with a matching price for his head. He'd still be a failure.

Molly grumbled something under her breath, and it was only after she left their shared room at Shady Belle did he realize that she was talking to him. He didn't mean to just ignore her, yet he did, but he also didn't feel guilty for it. Dutch felt another headache crawling in just at the thought that he had a crumbling relationship in one hand and a crumbling gang in the other. How could he fix the two in one go?

When he heard footsteps pausing at the doorstep he didn't dare look up, voice laced with irritation and disdain.

"What is it?!" Dutch looked up, and his expression softened upon seeing that it was you. Great, he had blown up on someone that didn't deserve it. "What is it?" He repeated, softer this time, but it certainly wouldn't remedy his outburst.