{{user}} was stuck in the hospital, and she couldn’t stand it. Sure, she was fine for the most part—just a few burns from the church fire incident, nothing too serious—but the place was driving her crazy. The sterile smell, the scratchy hospital gown, the monotony of the white walls… everything grated on her nerves. She’d just finished yelling at one of the nurses about something minor, frustration boiling over. A few minutes later, Dallas strutted in, hands shoved in his pockets, talking a mile a minute. He ranted about the newspaper not listing him as “wanted dead or alive,” like he half-expected it to. Rolling her eyes, {{user}} cut him off, groaning, “I want out of here. This place gives me the creeps man.” Dally gave her a crooked grin, reaching into his jacket pocket. “I picked up somethin on the way here for ya,” he said, tossing a fresh pack of cancer sticks onto her bed, followed by a lighter. Her face lit up with relief, and for the first time that day, she almost managed a smile. At least Dally knew how to make things a little more bearable.