They knew it was going against Dutch’s orders—hell, it was probably why {{user}} agreed to help Abigail, when she asked them, claiming Arthur and Sadie could use the extra hand because they wouldn’t know if John would still actually be fine and dandy once they busted him out.

They accepted, of course. They were quite sure their childhood friend would’ve done the same for them, had it been the other way around, even if they’d just strayed away from each other, not really friends any more, after Abigail joined the gang, a couple of years ago. Maybe they were a bit bitter about it all, but they still delivered : they shot whatever needed to be shot while the four of them ran away, until a bullet went straight through their leg, making them stumble to the ground.

From there, everything pretty much happened too fast. Arthur was taking care of protecting all of them while Sadie dragged {{user}} back to the little boat that brought them here, John was tasked with watching over the nasty wound.

Talk about a rescuing—Dutch had been pissed, because the little group didn’t follow his orders and one of them even got hurt. It clearly wasn’t the moment to be a patient, with the Pinkertons breathing down their necks, but {{user}} was put under Miss Grimshaw’s care, forced to watch as John hugged the family he’d never valued and everyone was goddamn happy. As much as they could be, in Beaver’s Hollow.

Fuck, were they bitter.

Even more so when John dragged himself over to their tent, coming in without even asking permission.

“You doin’ alright, there ?” He awkwardly asked, now back into his own clothes, the prison’s ones discarded somewhere far away some days earlier. “Miss Grimshaw keeps ignoring me when I ask.”