#( 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 ; rdr2 verse (( Charley ))

[sharp-teeth-and-archived]

( NIAMH )·:

The wait was anxiety inducing. Niamh crossed her arms to conserve warmth as she stood with Robert. She could see better in the dark than either of them, due to her being a selkie, so she was able to make our Charley’s outline as he crept around the house and barn. She didn’t notice any other movement. No farm animals. No dogs. The windows seemed empty and calm.

When Charley returned and told Robert about what he’d seen, she felt her brow furrow. Dark eyes turned towards her friend, then towards the house. She felt he wanted to go in even more because she and Charley weren’t so keen on it. Chewing on her lower lip, she thought it over.

“As long as we’re careful,” she said finally, giving Robert a pointed look. She had a penchant for getting into trouble, but she usually didn’t do so intentionally. Robert, on the other hand…

“And if anything strange happens or anyone shows up, we leave. All right?” She normally wasn’t so bossy, but the entire situation made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. 

        ❝ Niamh has a point. ❞ Charley made a momentarily glance over at Niamh before retreating his eyes back to Robert. ❝ What if this travels back to camp? We aren’t far. Even if no one’s home, who knows what else might lie inside. The house leaves an ugly feeling inside me, Bob. ❞ Charley could come up with any excuse in the world, write a whole paper on all his assumptions about the house, including the farmland that surrounds it, but none of it made Robert rid of the idea. A vacant house in the outskirts of town fared better with a high chance they could go unnoticed. 

        ❝ First you say you don’t believe any of these rumors, now you’re telling me different. Which is it, Charley? ❞

        ❝ You know my thoughts on these matters. Just because one house has an eerie feeling don’t mean the rest of the town is plagued. It’s just this one house. There are plenty of others worth picking off of. ❞ Charley spoke in a softer tone than Robert, who started to become more agitated by the prolonged wait time. It would’ve been quicker if they were closer to the homestead so Robert could get a sense of whatever Charley was feeling. Charley appeared to catch onto this feeling and decided it was best if they just checked it out, downplaying his own feelings for this one look over. 

       Robert would’ve been tight-lipped if Jesse was around, quick to side with whatever his thoughts were on the matter. But for this, Robert was stuck in that leadership role. With this new-found authority, he decided to try to mimic Jesse’s reasoning the best he could. He saw Jesse as both harsh and joyful, ready to make sport of this curse ordeal, but Robert’s temper had a shorter length on the burning match than Jesse’s tended to be.

       Robert remained mute in his response, watching as Charley decided to direct his choices for him. He pulled at Robert’s sleeve and started to sneak back up on the house again. Once they settled there, Charley sticking to the grass and peering back through that dreary sight of a kitchen, even with the light fixture in the corner. Robert cupped his hands and peered his eyes into the darkness of the bedroom, his ears not perking up any sounds. Just the wind of the light breeze ruffled through his eardrums. He’d have to step onto the porch and open the door, in the comfort of the four walls to get a source of any inner noise.

        ❝ You two have enough pocket room? ❞ Robert came back to the front, not yet stepping down from his initial plan. His eyes remained on Niamh, already knowing Charley’s dismissal. The older brother’s eyes still held that weary gaze, that feeling not emptying out of his stomach, but he tried to suppress it as much as he could.  ❝ Would you rather be with Charley and empty out one of the rooms? I can check the bedroom. ❞

[sharp-teeth-and-archived]

( SAMUEL )​:

Minding his business, sat alone, nursing a whiskey, Samuel sits surveying the bar. It’s a dirt town like any other, but with working man wealth provided by the mines and while the saloon isn’t exactly cosy, he’s found himself drinking in far worse places. Admittedly he’s only a visitor to this town, forced to slip into the saloon when the heavens opened up and caught him in a downpour. Having now dried off considerably, admittedly he’s ready to move on once his glass is empty, but as another is placed down in front of him, apparently free of charge, his eyebrow arches. Usually when a stranger buys him a drink, it means one of two things; either they’re looking for information or they’re looking for a lay – something discreet with no strings with a man clearly just passing through.

Hearing the question, he glances up to look at the stranger; he’s looking for information, at least that much is clear; pity. The comment about Sam’s hat prompts a side smile from him, there’s something innocent about it, something that against his better judgement has him moving a few seats along to join the man.

“Well your Ma’ certainly sounds like a smart woman, but I’m afraid I’m just passin’ through and the work I’m involved in, well let’s just say not all consider it good.”

Extending his hand, he offers the fella a smile. “Samuel Silas…pleased to meet your acquaintance Mr…?”

           𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐮𝐩, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. Charley could think of a couple professions, but he wondered -- was the man an outlaw? it piqued his interest more than any other lead he could find.

           If anything, the day was still young, Wood could’ve found something. If not, they could take a trip down to Saint Denis if they really needed a lead. Charley wasn’t too worried about it. He was more interested in hearing Samuel’s tale.

            ❝ Charley Evans, ❞ he answered with a grin, showing a hint of teeth, as he shook his hand. Even though it was a high possibility that nobody knew his name here, too focused on the mines, he still thought it was smart to keep his identity a secret. Sooner or later, the paper would pick up on his name, on all of Jesse’s gang members. With their involvement with the van der Lind gang, the newspaper would have a frenzy. It was only a matter of time.

            ❝ But... what- uh, what profession do you have? Do you work on the railroad? The mines, perhaps? ❞ it was the best guess he could give. If he let it be known to him that he believed the man lived a criminal lifestyle, it might give the opposite effect. He didn’t want to deal with someone boiled over with anger.