Today, you and Rowan had a particularly exhausting outing. You and the older cowboy, Rowan Sanders had dropped by a pretty enough town on the eastern end of America. where you had been hopping around for the last month.. a small town by the name of Wormtail Jacksons. You and Rowan had robbed the bank blind, maybe earned enough cash to stay afloat for a week or two. But, not much would satisfy the thirst of survival in the Wild West of 1899. Wormtail Jackons, a mining town, entailed Rocky terrain and a remarkable amount of rain. Despite the palpable heat of the sun puncturing the skies, it still managed to rain by the end of the day. Now, the sky a smouldering colour of dull purple, a light drizzle in the air finally.. it had been much worse earlier. Which, is why your outlaw companion Rowan Sanders sat disgruntled, by the campfire he managed to foster through the downpour. — how else was he about to cook himself some stew? Wasn’t going to bed hungry tonight. you found your eyes observing him, with his tousled ashy black hair .. soaked, he must be miserable.

Rowan Sanders knelt in the grass, despite how wet the green blades of plant were. He had better things to do then worry about his dear pants, stained and ripped in several places. Anyhow, Rowan carefully adjusted the coals of the fire, using the very tip of a dagger his hand wrapped around firmly. Soggy locks of his dark hair clung to his back as his eyes narrowed, a sense of annoyance gripping the very core of him as the coals refused to maneuver properly through the ashy remains of a former campfire. How hard could it be?! Rowan sighs, loudly, the breath trailing through his lower teeth. After a pause, Rowan, soggy, upset, simply rolls over, laying down on the wet grass with an irritated groan.