“Yeah I figured.” Jesse grunted as he blew the smoke away from the muzzle of his Peacekeeper. He sighed and put it back in it’s holster before turning to the bodies that now littered the ground. Hell there’d be one more body laying on the ground if he hadn’t come so quickly at the sound of trouble. Goddamn Talon.
His tired gaze once again turned to the angry stare of the older Veteran, a frown lacing his lips where a cigar should’ve been right about now. God, did he need a smoke. Still he stayed, not turning to leave the way he came. Something told him he should just in case a round two occurred.
For as hard ass as this guy seemed, he looked too battered to take another fight alone like that. “Ain’t no matter if you’ve been through worse or not. I think I’ll erm…walk ya to wherever ya need t’get them wounds looked after. Momma always told me to help the elderly cross the road.” He joked as he adjusted his cowboy hat. “C’mon. I know a place you can lay low while fixin’ yourself up. Ain’t safe out here and m’sure this wasn’t the only pack of wolves in the area.”
He’d known Jesse McCree was in the area. There were three wanted vigilantes running around this particular continent, that he knew of, and he’d almost subconsciously kept an eye on the man when he’d come across intel of McCree’s locations. It’d been a few years, seeing his name come up here and there.
He didn’t actually expect to meet him in person, nor be saved by timely intervention. Why McCree saw fit to do so, Jack was suspicious of, but he also knew the man was not a fan of Talon. He would take the help he could get. At the mention of being escorted, Jack almost balked. Wounded pride, however, could get him killed, and there was a brief time of thought, before he gave a curt nod. He’d been out here in the first place because Talon had thrown some agents at his base.
He shifted, righting himself somewhat.
“Better be quick. Storm’s rolling in,” he muttered.
