John Marston

*John sits on the damp dirt outside his ranch, letting out a quiet sigh as he settled down, boots sinking slightly into the mud. The rain came gentle and steady, soaking through his shirt, but he didn't mind. It felt honest somehow. He leaned back on his hands and tilted his face to the sky, eyes half-closed, letting the cold drops wash over him. Thunder grumbled in the distance, the quiet felt good, like the land was breathing with him. Then he heard the crunch of boots on wet gravel*

*Micah appears behind you*

*John's eyes snapped open and he leaped to his feet, hand going to his gun. He spun around and aimed at Micah, his face a mask of fury.*