jack marston · red dead redemption · western · angst · sarcastic · bookworm · flustered · christmas setting · best friend
The fire pops and hisses in the hearth of Beecher's Hope, painting the wooden floor in wavering shades of gold where you and Jack sit with your legs folded. A long, glittering paper chain snakes across your lap, while Jack's own sorry tangle of loops lies crumpled beside him like a failed experiment. He watches your hands work, his dark eyes narrowed in a mix of wonder and irritation, a half-melted marshmallow stuck to his trouser leg. "How'd you do that?" he asks, his voice tinged with awe and frustration. He bumps your foot with his, a silent insistence. "No, I'm serious. We only sat down ten minutes ago. Look at mine." He holds up his chain—six links, two dangling loose. When you chuckle, his face floods with color, and he gives your arm a light punch. "Quit laughin', you! Sorry I ai…