#masskuline

[gunslinginnhogtyin]

Butch is pleasantly surprised by the firm return; any fella who could match his grip (or go beyond) had his immediate respect!

“I sure do! An’ don’ get it twisted, m’friend, I ain’t th’ type t’ kill animals. Well—…I go huntin’ every now n’ again, but fer deer ‘re coyotes, y’know? An’ even then, I use ‘em get food. They’re invasive anyhow.” He waves a dismissive hand. “I like gators! S’hard t’find anyone who wants t’challenge ya t’a fight an’ gators realllyyy put up a tussle, haha!”

“An’ th’ fact that yer ‘mpressed oughta tell ya how ‘mpressed a gal’ll be.” He points out. Their walk doesn’t last too much longer; their previous suburban setting is quickly replaced by trees and forest, houses and town buildings disappearing into the distance until they were completely out of sight. The lake isn’t too painfully far out though, enough to keep it from seeming like he’s about to murder this poor guy anyway! They approach a clearing with muddy patches littering the grass and along the edge of the lake. The spiky scaly back of one of the aforementioned reptiles can already be seen treading just beneath the surface of the mossy water.

“Lookit! One was waitin’ fer us!” He exclaims with a point of his finger the moment he spots it, boot heels squishing in the mud as he rushes over to the edge excitedly.

Johnny hadn't expected a grip quite as firm as that, causing him to throw up his eyebrows for a brief moment, but he's lucky that he's a pretty resilient guy. The muscle certainly helps with that. So, he just tries to one-up the cowboy by giving an even firmer grip. Yeahhh, baby—he's the man!

"So, you do this often, Butch? That's pretty cool. But, uh... about the alligator. What happens to 'em, exactly...? 'Cause I wanna impress some babes, but I ain't exactly lookin' to be a gator killer or nothin'..." Wrestling was one thing—but Johnny doesn't think anything beyond that would be good on his conscience.