“Howdy partner.” the purr echoed from her lips. Spinning the pistol back into its holster snugly, amber eyes fixated on her claim. Licking the blood off the side of her maw, a wicked grin replied to shouts of irritation. The gunslinger didn’t respond, merely sauntering over to the distraught male before her. “Then you’d be dead-” Her fingers reached out, thumbing at a splash of blood staining his skin. “And I’d be outta a job- not to mention short of one mouthy boyfriend.” Her laugh was sultry, amused by the notion; what was his definition of amazing, anyway?
“It’s your own fault for wearing a suit to a duel, sides-”Her voice trailed off, grabbing his jaw roughly between her index finger and thumb. “I think you look better covered in blood.” Fingers pressed themselves tighter into his false flesh. “Wouldn’t let you die just yet, cowboy. After all, we still got people to hurt. So ditch the jacket or something, all those layers are slowin you down anyway.”
She knows his hangups to leaving being any of his “precious” suits, many a time she being scolded for dirtying them up with mud or whatever else caked onto her fingers after a nice brawl. This is no different, and yet she can’t help but crave to drive the nail under his skin. What could she say? She liked getting him hot and bothered in more ways than one. “Or are you too scared someone’s gonna put a bullet between those handsome eyes of yours to finish the job~?”
Jack pulls his lips into what is most certainly not a pout and squints a glare in her direction, leaning down when he’s grabbed so he’s slightly more eye-level with the cowgirl.
“Well what else am I supposed to wear–” He says, exasperated and under his breath. He suddenly has the mental image of himself in her outfit, and he quickly quashes it down. He’d stick his tongue out at her, ever the petulant child, but he doesn’t want to get bandit blood in his mouth.
He smirks, lost in the thought of ‘Why yes I do look amazing covered in blood, don’t I?’ until he remembers that they are indeed in the middle of a bandit camp and there are indeed more people to murderize. Jack’s already feeling hot and itchy from his little strangling session, and the Pandoran heat isn’t helping matters, so he takes her advice and starts to strip off his ruined jacket, leaving streaks of gore as he struggles to get his other arm out.
He yells triumphantly when he gets it off and makes a show of tying it around his waist and posing for her with his hands braced on his hips, bloodstained face held high. The distant gunfire is still rampant, and he can hear bandit screaming and gun loaders and he’s just– he’s just so happy.
“Scared? Me? Psssssh. I’m not scared. I’m far too important to die.” This time he does stick his tongue out at her, as he readies his gun and saunters past her towards the raging battlefield. If she notices him slow down to let her pass to go first, he’ll never admit to it.