(Untitled)

[patchyatbest]

Who: Mikhail Bakunin and John Marston.
Where: The North Wing.
When: Backdated to before the end of port.
What: In which Mikhail proves himself to be a douche, buuuut John (unintentionally) proves a bigger one.
Warnings: UHHHH swearing because I'm terrible at not including it, and character death.

Comments

SORRY I'M SUPER LATE. :C And with a super lame tag. :cccc

[aintnothingfair]

John looked up from where Abigail sat next to him, her face a mix of disgust and worry. She'd been talking to him about Dutch and Bill for the longest while until Mikhail's arrival. The cowboy quickly stood to regard his inmate with a little bit of confusion but mostly angry.

"You sonuvabitch," he glared at who he thought was Bill standing at the door. "Bill, I ain't never thought you was this fucking stupid."

His spurs jingled against the floor of his cell as he moved toward the door and gripped the bars, teeth bared and gritted.

FFF, NO APOLOGY NEEDED. Take your time bb girl - my internet is still fucked.

[patchyatbest]

Bill?

Mikhail's eyes narrowed a little. His internal alarm bells gave their usual ring, and he found himself automatically brushing the tip of his finger against the gun trigger. What if this wasn't John Marston, but yet another phantom? What if---

No. It was John. It had to be John. Besides, it was dark, and without that fused hole where his right eye should be, Mikhail looked considerably less... distinctive. Not everyone can see past an eyepatch, after all. Added to that, if, like Mikhail, John had been enjoying the company of personal ghosts, then a little case of mistaken identity should hardly surprise him. Still, Mikhail's brow furrowed all the same as he stuck the key in the lock

AND PAINFULLY LATE. Sorry, trying to get the John muse going.

[aintnothingfair]

John stepped back from the door, his spurs jingling, as Mikhail stuck the key into the lock, eyeing the other man with suspicion. Why would Bill be letting him out of his cell? Hell, why would Bill even be here and trying to help him? Carefully, the cowboy drew back a little further, hands at his side and ready for a punchfight if necessary.

"Mr. Williamson," he nearly growled, "I ain't got nothin' but time."

Well, maybe that wasn't true, as John had certainly noticed an increase in the presence of the people around him, Abigail, Jack, and the persistence of Bill unsettled John in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on.