#but i felt it’d be more recognisable if i didn’t draw them in camp clothing

[kreinvulon]

this dialogue option will always be dear to me.

original tweet

[tahitianmangoes]

When George Met Clementine

Pic by @vanderlindeee​​  💕 Clementine met George only a few months ago. It had been a mistake, a stupid mistake on Clementine’s part. ‘You shouldn’t drink the night before a job’, Black Belle had taught her that. So why was she in a saloon, too many whiskeys deep the night before she planned on robbing a banking stagecoach?

Maybe it was nerves. She’d never done a job this big on her own before. Sure, she’d held up many a stage but this was different: six riders, the driver and a gunner beside him and however many men would be inside the stage - perhaps four. That was twelve men. Clem knew she could do it. She was strong, agile and smart. Not to mention she was a quick draw and a sharpshooter should it come to it. She was sure it would, these things usually did…

The whiskey made the doubts and the worries a little quieter in her head and maybe would help her sleep better.

The stagecoach came through the pass every Sunday, Clementine had been watching it for almost a month now. She knew the route, knew the riders - the same men every week, knew how long it would take-

“You drinkin’ alone?”

The voice ripped Clementine out of her thoughts. She’d been staring at the bottom on her glass, rerunning her plan through her head for at least the ten thousandth time.

A man stood beside her at the bar. Clementine took her time in looking him up and down; he was big- brawny - his chest and shoulders broad,  at least double the width of her. He was youthful looking, his face was adorned with freckles and boyishly handsome. He wore fine clothes, a crisp white shirt unbuttoned to reveal the swell of his large chest just a little, form fitting dark patterned pants that were held up by matching suspenders. His light eyes met hers. He seemed to be enjoying the way she studied him, a careless smirk across his lips.

“I was.” Clementine answered, not returning his smile. This didn’t seem to faze the stranger at all.

“You weren’t thinking of leaving, were you?” He asked.

“And what if I was?” Clementine shot back.

The man’s smirk stretched wide as he said, “I’ve been thinkin’ about how to speak to someone as pretty as you all evening. It’d be a shame for you to leave now.”

“I’m sure that’s what you say to every girl.” Clementine said to him, turning back to her drink and sipping coyly now.

She felt her lips curl into the smallest of smiles. She never saw herself as someone outwardly attractive - not like some other women. She didn’t wear fine clothes, style her hair or use make up. She had no need for those things. So it was nice to get attention, even if it was from a stranger in a saloon who was most probably going to try his luck with every woman in there - like fishing and just waiting to hook something.

“Only the prettiest girls.” Came the stranger’s smooth reply.

“Maybe you should have come over here sooner and you might not have missed your chance.” Clementine said to him. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks a little as she spoke, not used to flirting, if that indeed was what she was doing.

The man laughed softly, he moved his head closer to Clementine’s, “so you admit I did have a chance?”

She could feel the heat coming from him. It was a hot evening regardless and that was only amplified by the man standing so close to her, his head next to hers so that all she had to do was lean into his lips… But that wasn’t Clementine. She shied away from him. She had already allowed herself to get distracted with the whiskey and now the handsome stranger.

His smile was unrelenting, even as Clementine moved away from him.

“What’s your name?” Clementine asked him.

“George,” came his swift reply.

“George what?”

George smirked, “just George.”

Clementine didn’t want to admit that she wouldn’t mind seeing what Just George had to offer but she couldn’t. Not tonight.

“Well, Just George. I have to go but it was nice to meet you.”

George sighed theatrically, clutching at his chest as if he had been shot in the heart, “would you really do this to me?” He asked her, “I don’t even know your name!”

Clementine stifled a laugh. “Wouldn’t you like to know, big boy George?”

With that, she downed the rest of her drink and she moved past him, out of the saloon.

She regretted it as she mounted Thaddeus, her sorrel Breton, and started her way back to her camp. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been intimate with anyone. Even if it was just one night with the handsome stranger, it was better than nothing...

She tossed and turned as she tried to sleep through the nerves of the upcoming morning, the heat of the night and what could have been with Just George.

****

Clementine woke up as the sun rose. Her guns were cleaned and ready - two semi-automatic pistols that she would hide under her dress. She didn’t usually wear a dress but it was necessary for today.

She had decided that the best way to do this was to perhaps fake being a damsel in distress who had twisted her ankle after her horse bolted. It was brazen but she knew she could do it. The safer option was to take cover on higher ground then pick the riders off but there was too many things that could go wrong - the stagecoach would be able to make a getaway while she sniped the riders and she only had the time it took for the stagecoach to go through the pass where there was enough cover to shield them from prying eyes…

Clementine made it out to the trail in good time. She shooed Thaddeus and tried to make herself look meek and weak, sitting on the ground and holding her leg as if it hurt.

She felt like she was waiting for hours but probably not. Her palms were slick with sweat and she could see herself shaking with anticipation as she heard the stagecoach rumbling towards her.

Sure enough and right on time it appeared in the centre of the pass where she was sitting, cradling a “sprained” ankle.

"Oh! Excuse me, could you help me?" She called up to the driver as the stage approached her and came to a halt. A couple of the riders came around front to look at her. She felt them eyeing her suspiciously and saw one of them scan the hills above the pass - that's where any sane person would have their backup hidden but Clem realised in this moment, that she was far from sane.

“What you want miss?” The gunner who sat beside the driver asked warily.

“Oh… Sir, please…” Clementine said, trying to sound soft unlike her usual blunt self, “my horse bolted and I’ve gone and hurt my ankle… You don’t think you could help me, could you? Just take me to the next town?”

One of the riders peered out at her from beneath the brim of his hat. “This ain’t no passenger coach, missy. We are on official business.” He put unnatural stress on the first syllable of the word ‘official.’

“Come on now, Clinton. She’s jus’ a girl. A pretty girl stuck out here on her own.” The driver said, greedy eyes not leaving her as he spoke.

There was a moment while the driver, the gunner and a couple of the riders all conferred before agreeing that Clementine could get up onto the coach with them.

“Can you help me up please, sir?” Clementine asked the closest rider. “My ankle’s twisted real bad.”

The rider dismounted his horse and went to help Clementine up. She moved as quick as a fox, grabbing the rider and twisting his arm up and around his back to disarm him. The other rides opened fire and Clementine used his body as a shield while she removed her guns from garters under her dress.

It all happened in a flurry, gunshots rang out clearer than a bell and the horses began to buck and tried to bolt.

Clementine made short work of the driver and gunner beside him - headshots were the most efficient. The riders were trickier and soon she had to let go of the body and take cover by the rock she had been leaning against a little earlier. As she reloaded her dual pistols, she heard commotion inside the stagecoach: “what’s going on out there?!” “It’s an ambush!” One of the riders was shouting.

Clementine popped her head over the rock when there was a gap between gunfire for her to shoot back. Two more riders down. She hunkered down though the following gunfire. They’d have to reload soon and then she could make her next move.

That was when there was a shout from down the other side of the pass. Clementine looked back to see a man approaching fast on foot. She was about to cock her gun at him, thinking he was part of the stagecoach but she soon recognised him to be the stranger, Just George, from last night.

“Don’t worry!” He called to her, “I got you!”

It happened in slow motion to Clementine. George barrelled towards the riders, shooting wildly with his repeater - Clementine wasn’t even sure if he was aiming because none of his shots landed. He shot the side of the stage coach and two of the horses threw their riders and bolted past George who ended up losing his balance and face planted heavily in the dust of the trail.

Clementine swore under her breath and she darted out, grabbing George by the shirt collars and dragged him back to the rock where they continued to take cover. Clem whistled for Thaddeus.

“What the hell are you doing?!” She snapped at George.

“Im savin’ you, ma’am!” Came George’s earnest reply, his light eyes confused as they met Clementine’s.

Clementine clenched her jaw and popped her head back over the rock again to shoot at the men left guarding the coach before she popped a bullet in George instead.

The large brown Breton was galloping into sight now. “Get up and get on the damn horse!” Clem growled at George who must have realised that it was in his best interest for him to do what he was told.

George hopped onto the back of the horse, holding onto Clementine as she kicked the sides of Thaddeus and they sped away.

Clementine didn’t stop until they reached her camp.

Never had she done a job that had gone so wrong so quickly before. She slid down from the saddle and stormed away from George angrily.

“Aren’t you going to thank me?” He asked as he got down from the horse.

Clementine rounded on him, her eyes ablaze with fury. “Thank you?!” She repeated loudly, her voice echoing off of the surrounding cliffs, “what the hell for?!”

“F-for saving you..?” George offered but Clementine could tell by the look on his face that he knew this was the wrong answer.

“You owe me big time, George.” Clementine hissed. “That was a bank stage and I was doin’ just fine robbin’ it on my own. I don’t need no knight in shining armour - especially if they’re as incompetent as you!”

“How much..?” George stammered, his cheeks burning red now.

“Four thousand dollars.” Clementine replied, emphasising each word.

Clementine held George’s gaze, glaring at him before turning on her heel and marching into her camp.

George hesitated before following her sheepishly.  “I can make it up to you!”

“Oh yeah?” Clementine scoffed.

“Yeah. I-I’ll work for you… For free of course! Anything I make will go to you.”

Clementine sat down heavily on a small canvas chair outside of her tent. She looked up at George again today much like she had the night before only she didn’t have the benefit of the whiskey to skew her judgement. Aside from being so very handsome, he was muscular. Now, Clementine was strong but she definitely could do with someone else to do all the heavy lifting and manual labour… He seemed fit, too. There was no doubt that he would be able to work.

But Clementine had been alone for so long, just her and her horse camping all over the country… The thought of another person being with her made her nervous but it was also oddly exciting.

“Ok.” Clementine said finally. “You work for me now.”

“I won’t let you down, ma’am, I swear!” George said enthusiastically.

“Hmm, we’ll see about that.”