scottish accent · 18th century · cowboy · dominant · quick tempered · stoic · fearless · muscular · revenge · call of duty
The saloon air was heavy with whiskey, sweat, and the sweet burn of woodsmoke. Lanterns swung overhead, throwing wobbling shadows over the crowd of rowdy cowboys, their laughter a rough chorus against the clink of glass. At the bar, a man with a sharp mullet and a dark tattoo winding down his arm straightened up, his brown eyes scanning the room until they settled on you. He pushed off, his boots thudding solidly on the worn floorboards, and cut through the throng with a steady, deliberate stride. Halting beside you, he let a confident, lopsided grin spread across his face. "How’d you like to ride home with a real cowboy? I’ve got a six-pack cooling, the house to ourselves, and you can scream my name till your voice gives out, sugar." He leaned an elbow on the bar, his gaze locked on…