Pale as death and twice as toxic.

“Don’t like the thought of the Lone Ranger saving your hide?” He shot back, snorting in mild amusement. “What, am I too predictable for you?” A heavy brow lifted in anticipation of her response.

"... what?" She frowned, her brow furrowing in confusion. Where on earth did that come from? One minute, she was talking about cowboys, and the next, he was accusing her of utter nonsense. "General, you are hardly making any sense."

Arguments were not his forte. They often left him frustrated and irritated. He was much more apt with charging into battle or flinging petty insults at his targets.

“Yeah, well. Thought I could ward her off with your presence since you’re as white as a ghost. Looks like my plan back-fired.”

The last comment made him bristle.

“Don’t tell me you want that bag of bones.”

"Hardly." She shook her head, her mouth curling into a strange cross between a smirk and a grimace. "I have never been a fan of westerns. Cowboys are too... unpredictable."

“You’re acting like an insolent child, Commandant.”

A warning edge crept into his voice. If she wanted to act like a foul-tempered youth, then he would resort to proper discipline. Indignant, he lifted his head. The frown on his lined face deepened.

“This might give the Lance the proper advantage it needs. It’d be helpful if you weren’t a jealous, little bitch.”

"Need I remind you that you were the one that called me here." She tilted her head back ever so slightly, cocking a brow indignantly. If he wanted to play rough, she'd play rough. The siren wasn't above getting a little dirty. "It seems to me that you are the jealous one, General. 'You will not touch what's mine'? Tch. Please."

A bitter laugh. He looked down at her, less than thrilled.

“Listen: don’t go pinning this on me, Commandant. The Lance will not suffer from this. The only one doing the suffering will be you, if you continue to behave this way.”

"Behave what way? You are the one talking to bandits, General!" She scowled up at him, red lips curling into a sneer. How dare he try to turn this around and make her out to be the bad guy... With a scoff, she crossed her arms, hips jutting off to the side in a displeased stance.

“A crying shame. You could’ve been a valuable asset.”

A tired sigh. “Turns on the right ladies. And that bulimic won’t quit bitching at me. So, yes.”

"There is a fine line between 'bitching' and 'instructing', General." Her eyes narrowed, the pale gray orbs focusing on his face. "If you wish to associate with this... bandit scum, I can't stop you. But if the Lance suffers as a result... it is on your head."

“Hey, don’t get me wrong. You’ve got a great ass. Now’s not the time or place for that. …I am not scared. I just don’t need another woman pining after me.”

"... I will choose to ignore that first statement. Tell her off! Do not stand there like some awkward teenager; it's not becoming at all. What happened to that commanding presence...?"

#Commandant: you’re needed.

Da? What is it now?

“There’s an anorexic cowgirl on my doorstep. Oh, and put some goddamn pants on.”

#grizzledgeneral #sketches

"... d-da, general." =//n//= "Perhaps you should ask her to leave if you don't like her company? Surely a man like yourself is not scared of her..."

damnedcowgirl started following you