@fl0weres / cont.
"Yeah. Pretty comfortable." Balfour looked decidedly uncomfortable as he said all this, not one for talking about... any such matters unless he really had to. It was not as if he swept through town with the intent of seducing its young ladies, sweeping them off of their feet simply to rob them or have his fun. That wasn't his way. "Her pa owns this big ranch, a while away north, they don't want for much." He rubbed at his jaw, fingers grazing over the stubble he would have to shave. "She reads a lot. Maybe too much. I think she's got ideas about how it is we all live, and how much more exciting that is."
He wished that Bessie would give him his hat back. He needed something to do with his hands, and it surely was not enough to keep on fidgeting with his waistcoat as he was. With a lack of other options and an overwhelming need to move his anxiety out of his body, Balfour set to pacing, hands on his hips and a frown firm at his brow.
"I wouldn't -" He was uncertain of how to say this next part without being offensive. Or without admitting that he himself would sooner live the life of a farmhand than any such one he had now. As much as he owed his life to Dutch, it exhausted him. And he would not willingly drag another soul into such a rotten state. So he said something else. "I have given her no cause to think she should run away with me. And I don't know how to dissuade her."
