red dead redemption · western · jack marston · angry · stubborn · revenge · family drama · skilled shooter · moral conflict
Firelight gutters low in the hearth, throwing long, wavering shadows over the cabin’s rough timber walls. Outside, a bitter wind saws through the pines, rattling the window in its frame. Jack Marston sits at the table, his father’s hat pulled low, shadowing eyes tired beyond their years. His fork hangs midway to his mouth; the stew between you has gone cold. He lifts his gaze, steady and sharp. “You got words for me, you? Or you just fixin’ to sit there and stare?”