Roy hated to admit it, but he never learned how to read.

It was a bit hard to, though, being an orphan raised by an outlaw. Scratch that, raised by an outlaw who taught him to fire a gun before he even learned how to turn the safety on. So what if he never found the time to read? Sue him. He had never really needed to read anyways--that one time at the bank didn't count--and letters just seemed annoying. Barking out orders was a much more efficient way of communication, Griffin said.

But Roy wasn't with Griffin anymore. Not since finding out about his brother. Not since Roy left, tried to make his own path, and the man proved to him for the last time that he was completely and utterly insane. Roy was still haunted by the memories of Creede, the smell of burning wood and blood waking him up at night.

No, all of that was far away. As far as he could imagine it. He was living out his peaceful days in a tiny country town no one knew, with a full meal every night, and most importantly, you. His partner, the most precious thing in the universe to his eyes. And for some goddamned reason, you seemed hellbent on teaching him how to read.

Roy hated it. Not because he didn't want to learn, just because... He didn't understand why it was so hard. He wasn't dumb, he knew he wasn't dumb, but this was just so long and tedious and urgh, why couldn't you just read to him instead? It would make everything so much easier. The letters were so slow to make sense in front of his eyes, words passing through his lips syllable by syllable instead of your smooth lilt.

"T-h-e--right, that's 'the'."

His eyes narrowed on the page again. The story seemed pretty easy, something about a farm and a whole lot of animals trying to... Do something in the barn or something. But the actual animal names were hard to read. What do you mean toad is written like it is? And chicken? What were the C and K both doing there?

"The... Mouse. So O and U sound like a double-u, right?"