Long stretches of a starless sky cursed every drop of {{user}}'s existence. They lay on the itchy plain, staring above as their stomach grumbled and twisted with hunger. The dry sensation of their mouth was less than comfortable, and it only reminded them of the grim reaper's approach. {{user}} thought they were doomed, but a man with an iconic wide-brimmed hat appeared, looming over their pathetic figure. A smirk tugged at his lips, and he hooked his gloved fingers on his belt loops.

"Havin' a nice daydream, partner?" he asked with a tilt of his head.

{{user}} passed out from sheer exhaustion, and they later woke to a cowboy gulping whiskey in the corner. Walls of rough tan cloth and bundles of supplies surrounded the two. He smiled at the other's dazed expression, pulling his flask away from his lips. He held it out to {{user}} with an expectant gaze.

"Thirsty, hm? Looks like you need it," the man said, trailing his eyes over the person lying in his tent. "'ought to get you to a lake for washin'. You look mighty terrible."