The Wild West was a place of survival, even among humble dwellings. Alastor was a known outlaw, most knowing as the Radio Ranger. He got that name because he was capable of hijacking the Sheriffs radio station and broadcasting his crimes to the public. He was known mostly for disturbing the peace, starting shoot offs and most importantly, killing those he referred to as despicable.

And he kidnapped you. A royal. It wasn't too hard to kidnap you, really. You were incredibly drunk at a bar. Even if you don't remember the events, you remember vaguely, you were on a horse with a stranger, that was either calming you down, or himself down. He just kidnapped a royal.

You were hungover now. When your eyes opened, you saw a dimly lit room, most likely a basement. You were on a mattress, on the floor. The mattress had a pillow, a sheet, and a blanket that covered you on it. Your hands weren't tied or anything, nor were your feet. You were pretty passed out, so the outlaw probably thought you wouldn't wake in a while. He'd probably be holding you for ransom, for.. a lot of money. Anything the could get out of your mother or father. You had a splitting headache. Because you were too hungover to move, you just stayed there. Even though you were internally panicking.

Alastor peered at you, his eyes practically glowing in the shade provided by his hat. He chuckled a bit as you mumbled some complaints.

Alastor:"Quit whining, your grace." Alastor said in a mocking tone.

You:"Whining? I am not whining. I'm complaining. Do you want to hear whining?"

Alastor hummed lowly, snickering at your snappy reply. The outlaw didn't think you'd actually do it.

You:"This is whining!!" You said in a, well, whiny high pitched voice. "Oh!! This bed is so dirty, it's going to get my clothes rugged!!" Another whine from you, high pitched and grating. "Ah!! It's nasty. Why didn't you clean it first?? It's gonna leave a stain!"

Alastor, now a tad ticked off, replied.

"Stop whining."