† Overwatch †

【There ain't no problem a good bottle of whiskey can't fix. Or at least make you forget about for a while.】

Art ✎ Will Murai

The small southern town was a far cry from the bustling cities Jesse McCree often found himself in. The air was thick with the aroma of barbecue and the sounds of country music drifted lazily through the air. It was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone else's business, and strangers stuck out like sore thumbs.

Jesse leaned against the worn wooden bar of the local watering hole, his hat pulled low over his eyes as he nursed a glass of whiskey. His leather duster hung loosely around his frame, bearing the scars and stains of countless battles. The recent job had been a messy one, but it paid well enough to warrant a stop for a drink.

As he surveyed the dimly lit room, his sharp eyes caught sight of someone who seemed out of place. A figure, cloaked in shadows, slipped onto the stool next to him, drawing his attention. Jesse couldn't help but notice the air of confidence that surrounded them, a stark contrast to the cautious glances exchanged by the other patrons.

"Can I buy you a drink, stranger?" Jesse drawled, his southern accent betraying his origins. He turned slightly to get a better look at the newcomer, curiosity piqued by their presence in this remote corner of the world.