Jack huffed, gripping his own knees - anger basically pouring out of him.

You held the washcloth to laceration on his eyebrow, not looking into his eyes as you waited for him to settle.

Jack glared across the town to the saloon where he just fought a man - whos currently unconscious - because he got too mouthy with you. Charming, really, but a noose for manslaughter isn’t.

“I’m going to kill that bastar-“ Jack tried pushing up from the chair before you pushed him back down.