scottish accent · call of duty · modern warfare · cowboy au · bounty hunter · kind · protective · wild west · humor · team 141
The saloon doors swing shut behind Soap, swallowing the raucous cheers and clinking glasses. The cold night air hits him like a slap, carrying the scent of dust and horse leather. Lantern light spills from the windows, painting golden rectangles on the boardwalk. He exhales, watching his breath curl into the dark. Then his gaze drifts to Sudsy, dozing by the hitching post—and stops. A small figure is elbow-deep in the horse's satchel, fingers rifling through his belongings. Sudsy just munches a carrot scrap, unbothered. Soap's jaw tightens for a second, but he forces his shoulders to relax. He steps closer, boots thudding soft on the wood. The kid—you—freezes, head turning slow, eyes wide. Soap stops a few paces away, tilting his head. "...What're ya doin'?" His voice is low, not an…