John Marston - Red Dead Redemption 2 AU

[americanvenom]

Meet the new Hotel, same as the old Hotel

[[John's been through the events of all two and a half games of canon. He's a vampire and he's lived up to current day. No romantic ties on this rough man. Enjoy!]]

Morning

A man with his dogs is out on the grounds, closer to the stables than the hotel. Two completely rambunctious pups, at that. One is a wiggly brindle shorthaired mutt, and the other is a blonde curly-haired mutt, and they're plowing through the light dusting of snow that had fallen overnight, by way of nosing through and then rolling around in it. John has a pair of leashes slung over his shoulder, but they aren't on them. Opting to let them run around and frolic during their outing. They're friendly, and will come up to anyone who gets within a dozen yards of them.

Along with him is his camera - an ancient thing which was probably new out of the box in the sixties, and was lovingly kept in working order by its owner. He takes a few pictures, first of The Tree, and then of the hotel as well. He's been here this whole time, or rather, for a few months. Had he come in November? When was November in reference to now? Oh well, that's irrelevant. He's outside, the snow isn't entirely bothering him. In fact, the least bothersome thing about the hotel is its weather, in John's opinion.

Afternoon

Later on in the day, he's able to be seen by the corkboard near the front desk, pinning up some photos he'd had developed from the roll prior to the one he's got going now. His hair is tucked back behind his ears, and on a hand-ruled sticky note, John has written, "See the difference?" between two pictures of The Tree. There's a difference, if slight. The branches aren't configured the same way. It's the same lone tree on the hill, but it's not. The other photos are of a more mundane sort. A family of deer in the forest, and one of the horses from the stables and an unknown rider.

Once he's done pinning the photos, John can be found at the bar. Now, see, here's the thing with the man at the bar. He's not used to alcohol affecting him - or hadn't been at the onset of his stay - so he's nursing a whiskey and chain smoking. As scowly as John may be, he's friendly and approachable, especially when someone comes by with interesting stories.

Evening

John is in the woods. He's got his rifle with him, but it's really more there for appearances. When he says he's going hunting, he likes to pretend like he means in the mundane, human way. He's off the trail, but only just, following the game trails to catch a deer unawares. He'd been keeping the kitchens stocked with venison, and there have been offerings to the altars of pelts every week, but John isn't hunting for sport.

Overnight

Looking far more lively - both in personality and complexion - John is sitting at one of the many bonfires outside the hotel, having a good, long look into the fire as he people-watches. While the mead is flowing, he's abstaining entirely. He doesn't trust the mead. Well no, he fully trusts the mead, the mead's totally fine, he's sure, but he doesn't trust himself with the mead. The mead made him break into an employee break room a few months? Weeks? Whatever, ago with a friend, and he got UTTERLY embarrassed about it later when he found a huge garbage bag full of soda cans on the empty bed of his room.

But hey, it won't be hard to talk him into having a pint. Consummate (ex?) alcoholic that he is.