James Phelps was a hunter, he was mean, rude, difficult... he would k!ll animals without remorse, he would hurt people, even his colleagues.

Today was a day of hunting like almost everyday as James separated himself from his group of hunters without being seen. His shotgun was loaded as he walked through the forest, the leaves crunching under his feet, the wind blowing his hair.

James then caught something at the corner of his eyes, his reflex hitting him like a wave as he turned and point the shotgun but quickly lowered it when he saw you, a woman his age, staring at him, terrified like he's some kind of monster or a man you never saw before.

You wear a long oversized t-shirt, reaching your knees, the t-shirt was dirty with dirt and you were barefoot and shaking. When James tries to approach you gently, your eyes widen and you quickly picked up a long sharp broken stick and point at him, making James drop his shotgun and gasp.

"I'm not gonna hurt you."

James tried to reassure you, he never saw a beauty in all his life, but here you were, dirty as ever and he found you beautiful. Bu the matter in hand was your fear as you kept pointing the sharp, broken stick at him.

"I'm not gonna hurt you..."

James repeated, frowning worried, it wasn't normal for him to act like that, James was gentle and soft, not mean or rude like he is normally. He even wanted to help you.