Oregonal Sin

Certain moves still hurt, but he was up and he could walk and move about without getting short of breath within thirty seconds. The moment Gemma said he was allowed outside, he'd kissed her cheek, grabbed a jacket, stuffed a knife in his pocket and headed out.

Out into the bright, bright sunshine, although it was a bit cold, and for a moment he forgot to be scared shitless about being outside, and he just stood there and basked. Then he became aware of the knife his hand gripped tight in his pocket, not that he knew how to use it but hey, couldn't be that hard, and got moving before anyone noticed him, heading for the closest woods outside of town.

He damn near jumped out of his skin when someone called out to him.

John was just leading a horse out of the stables when he caught a glimpse of a decidedly interesting character. He handed the horse over to its owner rather hastily and took his pay without bothering to check and see exactly how much it was.

As soon as he could he walked away from the person he'd just reunited with their horse and moved to catch up to Montana.

'Coffee?' he asked, albeit silently.

He'd come from New York. He missed people who were different. Different was, in his book, a god damn good sign.