The faint crunching of snow wakes Seth up from a deep slumber - branches stripped of leaves, his arms wrapped around a rifle covered in a thick cotton cloth. Nixon rubs his hands together, ears and nose red from the cold, his earrings clacking against the sides of his jaw. Seth takes in the scenery for a while, "What day is it?" In almost a whisper, Seth asks, eyes barely open, tired.
Nixon falls onto the snow-covered ground, quickly rocking himself back into a sitting position. "You've only been asleep for a few hours and you've forgotten what day it was?"
"Shut up..." Seth says weakly, falling onto the snow and letting himself sink into it. Seth slides the rifle from in between his arms over to Nixon who grabs the barrel of the gun and pulling it away from Seth. Nixon clears his throat, placing his rifle near his crossed legs. "I want... a woman..."
"What?"
Seth chuckles, "Where the hell are we?"
"Washington?"
"Alright..." Seth curses under his breath, standing up and patting himself down, snow falling from his coat. "Where are we going?"
"Why are you asking so many questions? We got a bounty in Oregon we have to take care of so we're going there."
"Alright, who is it?"
"You're acting odd."
"Doesn't matter." Seth grabs Nixon's bag, taking out a damp piece of paper with someone's face drawn onto it. A young man with sideburns, eyes drooping and dead, hair slicked-back, the name on the paper read, "Ben Logston", Seth words the name with his lips, "How long will it take to reach Oregon?"
"We're almost there so... another day I believe?"
Seth nods, "Okay."
"What's up with the questions?"
"Waking up."
"Is that all?"
Seth grabs up all of his things and starts heading out, Nixon in a panic, gets his things as well, following.
"What are you doing man!?"
"Just thought we could start."
"Jeez."
"What year is it?"
Nixon raises an eyebrow, "1911?"
Seth stops walking, thinking. Seth feels the left side of his head for his scar... it's not there. Seth takes a deep breath, blowing air out of his nose, pressing his lips together. Seth shakes his head before continuing, Nixon waiting patiently for him.
Seth listens closely to the snow crunching underneath his feet. His brain isn't in chaos anymore, things are cohesive. He couldn't fathom what was going on around him but he thought that it'd be best to play along, walking with his best friend Nixon to Oregon without a care in the world, only a goal. Hours, days. Then, they arrived.
A small town in the middle of a pitch-black night. Nixon and Seth decide to enter a bar, Seth immediately goes to the bartender, asking them for whiskey. Nixon makes his way to random tables, asking them if they had seen the man on the bounty poster Nixon had in his bag. The first table, none of them knew who that man was, second, they recognized him but didn't see him anywhere, third same as the first, fourth same as the second, fifth same as the fourth, and so on. Seth decided to make himself familiar with the people sitting at the counter, getting drunk off of whiskey and ale, faces flushed with red.
More and more questions. A man, full beard, sharp eyes. The man knew that they might be bounty hunters but he didn't expect them to look the way they did, but they also weren't aware that he was actually the one that they are after. The picture was different from what he actually looked like and nobody could ever know any better. He gets up from his stool and walks over to Seth, who looked to be the most naive out of the two. "Nice revolver you got there!" He starts, patting Seth violently on the back, Seth meets him with a cheerful demeanor as well, "What kind is it? It looks old but polished!"
Seth's eyebrows raise as he takes his revolver from its holster, "Colt 1851 Navy Revolver." Seth looks over to another revolver tied to his arm sitting under his coat. He takes it out as well, "And this one is a Colt Pocket Revolver." Seth examines the barrel as if reminiscing. "You like?"
"Yeah, it's very interesting, especially how old they are, how are they in such wonderful condition!"
'He was born in the UK.' Seth thinks to himself, examining the man from head to toe. "Yeah, I polish them frequently. It was also something that I kind of inherited. It's not a family gun but it was definitely one of the many we had so I decided to keep it since it was already in such good condition."
"You could sell those for a pretty penny," The man points at the gun, getting his finger close to see how close he could get - Seth doesn't pull back. "May I inspect them?"
"Yeah, sure!" Seth says joyfully, pointing both of the barrels at the man and firing them both into the man's chest. He falls to the ground, winded, bloodied. "Fool," Seth said with a sigh, putting both of his revolvers away before pulling the man off the ground. Nixon moves in, confused. "Should we save him and bag him up, or kill him. It'll give less of a reward if we kill him but it saves us the hassle, also, the asshole tried pulling a 'Billy' on me so that means he's clever."
"He's the guy?" Nixon points to the poster in his hand.
"Yep, it's him," Seth points to the parts of his beard that are shaven in the picture and then points at the man, "Shave from the middle and he'd look exactly like the picture."
"I see," Nixon kneels near the man, taking a razor out from his back pocket. "Let's save him, I'll shave it."
Seth nods, grabbing at their bag and taking out medical supplies. "Luckily he won't bleed out anytime soon, I made sure of it, shot in between his lungs as he was breathing in. It should've pierced his ribs though so that's a worry."
"True."