Tensions were rising between those in the Van der Linde gang. People were starting to question whether Dutch had lost his mind. But Javier knew, he was sure, that Dutch would see them all through to the end. He trusted the man with his life. And it pissed him off to see good men like Arthur Morgan, someone he had considered a friend, to turn on Dutch when he needed their support the most.

Javier leans against the wall of the cave around the camp, smoking a cigar. Long past was the time when he’d pick up his guitar and sing softly in the night, or dream with the others.

He was tired. He missed home. But what hurt him most? He wasn’t sure where you stood in all of this.

Javier lowered himself to sit against the wall, picking up a half empty bottle. Drinking had never been an issue for him, though he found himself doing it more and more frequently.

He sat haunched over for a long time until he spotted you with blurry eyes.

“….Hey. Hey! I need…I need to talk to you. Ahora.”

He calls, voice slightly slurred.