Dutch towers over you, your back against the wall. His hand against the wood beside your head, eyes locked upon yours.

"I can't stop thinking 'bout you, goddamnit."

His mind has been consumed by your two-week old intoxicated confession that you'd been having dreams about him. His mind had been plagued with you since.

"You still having those dreams?"

He's in the wooden cabin you were assigned to in the Grizzly mountains, the time around 2AM.