#chris mannix

The blizzard has made travel difficult in every possible way for you and John Ruth. You have been partners for many years now, both in the game of bounty hunting and romantically. What started as a temporary alliance grew into finding solace in each other and now the ability to trust in each other with your lives whole-heartily.

Along with O.B., the driver of the stagecoach to transport you to Red Rock for the hanging of Daisy Domergue, your current bounty.

Which should be an easy run into Red Rock, bring Daisy to the noose, reap the reward, pick up another job and travel elsewhere. Has become anything but easy. Dancing on the delicate edge of possible failure, trapped in Minie's Haberdashery for the next three days, with all the strays you and John picked up along the road and the strange men already inside. Becoming paranoid about the possibility of Daisy working with one of them to escape.

The odds couldn't have been more against you.

Minie's Haberdashery has fallen into a lull as the current occupants are concentrated on their task. Sheif Chris Mannix, Oswaldo Modray and Joe Cage are lighting up every candle in the lodge while O.B. and Bob, Minie's supposed worker, have gone outside in the blizzard to dispose of General Standford's body that Major Marquis Warren had shot roughly 20 minutes ago. While Marquis is currently sitting at a table in the middle of the room, drinking alcohol he grabbed from the bar.

Leaving you and John Ruth the task to stand firmly against the door to keep it shut, since someone broke the latch and it needs to be hammered closed, until the two men return. Your spot at the entrance allows you to have eyes on Daisy Domergue at the dinner table.

With a sigh, your fingertips tapping the holster, your revolver is resting in, you try to shift your thoughts to less suspicious ones. Wanting to take advantage of finally having John alone with you, yet find yourself at a loss for words. As your eyes focus on Daisy, a topic of discussion comes easily. Your thoughts quickly shift to the reward money. Choosing to think about the future with John, you can already feel your shoulders untense at the possibilities spent with him.

"What are we going to do with that ten grand, huh?" Your quiet inquiry brings John's attention to you. His hard glare at Daisy softens to an affectionate smile in an instant.

"Not sure. What you have on your mind?" he asks, letting his head fall back slowly to rest on the door.

You let out a sigh as you think on the answer. You rotate your body to shift the weight into your shoulder against the door as you face John. Wrapping your arms around the fur coat more tightly to your chest. The cold sweeping in through the door is impossible to ignore.

"The first thing I reckon we do is we find the nicest, expensive hotel and get us a nice steamy hot bath." You answer as your gaze returns to John's, catching how his eyes flicker up from your chest.

"Yeah?" John chuckles at your idea, eyes crinkling in the corner, "Does that nice steamy hot bath include room for two now?"

"Maybe if you're lucky, old timer," you shake your head at John's teasing, lightly smacking his chest as you shift your back onto the door.

"Old timer?" John laughs in surprise at the name, while keeping his back firmly against the door, he shifts closer. Closing the small gap you created, he leans his head closer to you and drops his tone low. "Oh, for that. Now, you're gon' get it later."

"That's the plan," you wink at John. Playing coy as you meet him with your own teasing.

John laughs softly as he shakes his head. He shouldn't be surprised at your shameless flirt by now. But somehow, it's a talent of yours to make him feel flustered. The familiar back and forth is very much needed as it eases John; he misses spending time alone with you. Before he can continue, a sudden voice cuts through.

"John Ruth," Daisy calls out from the dinner table.

"Yeah," John reluctantly turns away from you, his eyes rolling at hearing Daisy's voice. You chuckle lightly at how his mood shifts as quickly as the winds outside.

"Can I play that guitar over there?"

John looks at the guitar, taking his time to judge the distances and any possible weapons Daisy could try to grab. After a beat, John turns to you and nods his head towards Daisy. Silently asking for your opinion, you take the time to look between the guitar and Daisy, making the same assessment of the layout. Daisy huffs impatiently at the couple, fed up with the act after witnessing it for so long. You turn to John and lamely shrug your shoulders. John nods his head at you and turns back to Daisy.

"Yeah." Daisy gets up, yet as she circles the thick wooden support pole, John speaks up. "You come back with anything else but a guitar. My pistol plays a tune. 'Domergue's death march. ' You got it?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it." She walks off, waving off John's warning. You watch carefully with your hand clasp around your revolver. Eye's trailing her figure as she grabs the guitar by the piano and immediately comes back to the dinner table.

"Hoping for a dance, Mr Ruth?" you tease as you faintly hear Daisy strum the guitar.

"If you want to dance, the honour is all mine. But let's save it for Red Rock, yeah?" John answers, and you smile at hearing the sincerity in his tone.

"Afraid of making a fool of yourself?" you tease, understanding you can't afford to drop your guard here of all places, but still wanting to poke fun at John as Daisy circles the wooden support beam again. As she catches your and John's watchful eyes, she makes a show of emptying her hands before taking a seat at the dinner table.

"Of course not," John grunts, turning away from Daisy tuning the guitar to face you, when any attempts to defend himself are cut short by shouts from O.B. and Bob from outside, ready to come in. You and John step away from the door as snow drifts in due to the strong winds.

John takes note of your shivering and makes sure to stand in front of you while keeping watch of the door. You faintly hear Daisy's folksong, but it gets tuned out by O.B. and Bob as they work together to hammer the door closed. In a matter of seconds, they get the job done.

O.B. rushes over to the stove, seeking out heat, which has you and John following. "Than gone to Botany Bay," You look over as you hear Daisy singing some folksong and catch her staring. You feel a sense of caution for a moment, as Daisy hurriedly looks away until a coffee mug is brought into your vision, casting away suspicion. John is giving O.B. a mug and is offering one to you, which you happily accept

John picks up the blue kettle from the stove and pours out the coffee into each cup. O.B. immediately takes a sip and walks off into his corner. While you allow the coffee in the mug to warm your hands up through your gloves. You wait patiently for John as he places the kettle down, and it's then that you take notice of some snow clinging to his coat. You lift one hand to brush it off.

John looks towards your hand, taking notice of the snow, and your kind action sends a warm feeling through his chest. He nods his thanks and takes a step back to shake his coat, getting the rest of the snow off and allowing you to relax.

Once he's done with his coat, John reaches towards your coat and brushes off the small amount of snow. As he's in your space, you take notice of his shoulder and you reach out again to place a hand on his left shoulder, pausing his actions. "How's your shoulder doing?" You ask, referring to earlier when he was pulled out of the stagecoach. The fear you felt in that moment was one you don't ever want to feel again.

"'M feelin' fine." John nods his head at your concern, placing a hand over yours. "However," John pauses, your concern grows as you feel him roll his shoulder, "It'd feel a hell of a lot better if you were to massage it."

"Would it?" Your shoulders sag at the comment. You raise a brow at John's hopeful look, "Maybe after that nice bath." You roll your eyes fondly and remove your hand. John is quick to hold your hand, unwilling to part just yet.

John grumbles softly under his breath at the decline. Holding your hand, he gently guides you back to the table, where you hear Daisy singing as you follow behind. His slow pace shows he's as surprised as you are at Daisy's musical talent.

"Yet regret they sent Jim Jones

In chains to Botany Bay"

"That's the one you like to sing in the stagecoach, huh?" John asked Daisy as he leans against the support beam.

"Yeah." Daisy nods as John gently tugs you closer.

"It's kinda pretty, got another verse to it?" As John reluctantly admits to Daisy. You pay little attention to the conversation as you shift your hand in John's, to bring your other hand to insert the cup into his hand. Feeling watched, you look over your shoulder to see that Daisy is observing.

"Yeah, lots." Daisy's eyes gleam at the sight of the cup in John's hands. Her eyes flicker to meet your narrow, distrustful stare; she's quick to turn back to the instrument. She feels her heart race in excitement.

"Well, go ahead, sing it." John nods to Daisy and tilts his head towards you. His eyes glance curiously between the coffee mug and you.

"Whatever you say, John. " Daisy, slight smugness is quickly covered by her singing.

John's fingers flex as he recognises your kindness and gently pushes the cup back towards you. "No, you have it, baby." John quietly refuses.

"Are you sure?" you cast him a doubtful look. Too many times has John stolen sips of your drink or bites of your food. Which creates this slight doubt, but the love you have brings the willingness to share, despite how annoying it can be. "I can always make another cup," you offer.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Only need you to warm up." John answers as he drops his hand once you tighten your grip, in favour of wrapping his arm around your shoulder, bringing you close to his side, while the other hand keeps the gun barrel pointed to the ground.

You tuck yourself into John's side as you gaze at Daisy singing. Keeping your hands firmly wrapped around the cup for warmth.

"Now day and night the irons clang

And like poor galley slaves

We toil and toil and when we die

Must fill dishonoured graves," Daisy smiles as she hears a slurp from behind her.

"By and by I'll break my chains

and to the bush I'll go."

You take another sip of the drink, with a satisfied sigh, and you lean your head on John's shoulder. Who places a short peck on the top of your head. The tender moment is quickly over at Daisy's next lyrics.

"And you'll be dead behind me, John." You and John both snap your heads at Daisy.

"When I get to Mexico." Daisy finishes her song. Strums a few chores, you step away, giving John the space as he walks towards Daisy.

"Give me that guitar." John angrily snatches it with his free hand while he blindly holds out the gun towards you. You accept it readily, walking around to get out of John's way, already aware of his next move.

"Wha, hey!" Daisy outcries at the action, and her thought gets cut as she glances at you holding the cup.

"Music time's o'er" John smashes the guitar on the pole that you were resting on not seconds before. Daisy cries out, whatever thought she had concerning the cup are gone as she covers her head from the splintered wood flying off from the impact.

"Turn around," John orders, as he moves to settle on the bench. As Daisy stands, her brows furrow as she sees you place the gun down and sit at the table on the other side of John. Watching obsessively as you place the cup on the table in front of you.

As Daisy sits at the table, John has taken his gloves off and slams them down. He then slams Daisy's gloves on her side of the table. It's only till John grabs the chains that she reacts.

"John, no! No, no, no, no, no!" Daisy panics, fearful of being chained to potentially dead weight.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! Shut up!" John chants as he chains himself back to Daisy.

The room falls back into silence, while at the table, John fumes in his annoyance. Daisy sneaks a glance towards the cup but instead spots your hand squeezing John's. She rolls her eyes. She has met with a lot of no-good bastards in her life. In all of the cruel, pig-headed men she has the displeasure of meeting, John Ruth is at the top of the list of people she hates. With you at close second. You're willingness to follow John, the soft actions she catches in between sicknesses her to her very core.

It isn't long till Daisy taps her whole hand on the table as she waits. Eager to watch John Ruth die from the poison in the coffee and the chance to see you suffer. Finally getting even with her captors.

Yet it seems even Life won't even give her that.

At hearing another slurp, she turns to watch in horror as you take a sip of the coffee. In shock at the turn of events, she numbly watches you place the coffee down, and John leans against you to look into the cup.

"Any left?" he asked.

"I knew it!" you huff as you shake your head. "What?" John's innocent tone sends a ringing in Daisy's head.

"I asked if you wanted some, and you said no." Your voice trails off as you begin to feel strange.

"I didn't wan' any! I was just ask-"

"NO! No, no, no! You stupid whore!" With the answer so clear to her, Daisy roars in a fit of anger as she tries to lunge at you, fingers outstretched, that she's not even sure if they're aimed at your neck or at the cup.

"Hey!" John's outcry is followed by a swift punch to the jaw. "Don't you dare talk to them! You hear me?! Another word, let allow insult, is aimed at them, this here barrer is going so far down your throat you'll be shitin' out bullets! You got that?" John shouts at Daisy.

Daisy is sprawled over the table, weakly lifting her head to run a tongue over her teeth in time to see O.B. putting down the candle he has lit in the space in front of the dinner table. Daisy's eyes are fixed as she waits, watching how O.B. then takes a swing from his coffee. If she couldn't watch John Ruth die, she vows either to do it herself or to make him suffer instead.

John settles down from his protectiveness and turns to you. It wasn't the first time Daisy tried to insult you. However, it was the first time you didn't react to it. John's stomach twisted in concern as you remained staring at a fixed point on the table. John brings his uncuffed hand to your back and rubs circles, his voice softening. "Baby, you feelin'… a'light?"

You lurch forward suddenly, forearms slaming onto the table to brace yourself as you projectile vomit bright red blood onto the table.

"Jesus Christ!" John exclaims.

You stare at the blood in confusion, unable to recognise where it came from. At hearing your name called in a frightened tone, you slowly turn your head to face John, staring at him through a numb daze. Distracted by the pain in your stomach, you bring one hand to clutch at your clothes, unable to understand why John is staring at you so fearfully.

John slowly reaches out to take the cup out of your other hand, making you aware of how you're body is trembling.

When O.B. suddenly vomits as well, the strength of it is so strong that it sends him to his knees. With the cause identified, a metal clatter is heard elsewhere in the room as you feel another urge build up in your throat.

John watches in horror as you rush off the bench, collapsing onto the floor. As his heart races in fear, John suddenly rushes off the bench behind you; his only purpose is to get to your side. Yet John sees from the corner of his eye Daisy suddenly lunging at the table. He spins towards her and is quick to react once he realises she is reaching for the rifle unattended on the table.

A mixture of panic, anger, fear and desperation stirs in John's chest as he can still hear you sick on the ground. He grabs the back of Daisy's coat and drags her off the table before she can even touch the gun. Daisy lets out a cry as she is tossed, stunned for only a moment as she feels her arm being pulled.

Assessing the scene, of you writhing on the floor and John kneeling beside you. Daisy is quick to pull hard on the chain. Determine to not only get away from the mess but to cause as much pain to John and to you. Making you suffer to die without your lover at your side, getting even as you took away the most satisfying death she could have witnessed.

With Daisy's well-timed yank, John falls to the ground and is pulled away from your side.

"No!" John yells in frustration, and Daisy realises her mistake too late. John, now closer to her, wastes no moment, nor is it a conscious thought to punch her in the face. Daisy finds herself seeing stars as she lies on the ground. John doesn't hesitate to pull both himself and her added weight, crawling back to you.

John's heart beats painfully as he sees you slump form on the ground. He hastily grabs your shoulders and pushes you onto your back. Your name is spilling with a desperate panic from John as he gathers you into his arms. As you remain still throughout all the movement, a sinking helplessness weighs in John's stomach.

"Come on, baby, talk to me." John pleads, shifting your weight to one arm as he brings his free hand to cradle your face. Staring anxiously into your unfocused eyes. John's eyes begin to sting as he is forced to accept his new reality.

"No, please no, no." John sniffs as he rocks your body, bowing his head to rest on yours. His last moment of peace before hell broke loose shortly after.

If John were a fool, he could consider himself the lucky one out of the three, for being shot in the arm compared to the areas that the major or the sheriff had been hit. Yet John is no fool and is aware of the lightheadedness he feels. Can recognise that the make-shift tourniquet that the sheriff tied at full strength has come loose, and with the current condition of things, that tourniquet he has is the best he is going to get.

In short, John Ruth is aware he is bleeding out from a gunshot wound in the arm.

His thoughts don't linger on where his soul is going; there's only one place for him now. It doesn't linger on any past deeds or regret. What John Ruth is thinking of as he lies behind Marquis on the bed. Having gained the satisfaction of watching Daisy hang for all her crimes after picking off the men she was working with one by one. Approaching his final hour, his thoughts are filled with one person.

"Hey fellows… if you don't mind, I'd like to spend… what could be our final night here…on the floor o'er 'ere…with my beloved," John explains, but doesn't wait to listen to any response. He heaves himself up off the bed, distracted from the pain to hear a mumble of agreement from Chris and Marquis as they understand the sentiment.

John honestly didn't care if they agreed or not; his heart drowns in grief while his head is clouded with dizziness. Using anything his good arm could reach out to support himself, John slowly inched his way towards the dinner table. Panting hard with each step.

With your body close at hand, John stumbles into the table. His stamina is draining fast as he feels weak from the effort; it's not a surprise when his knees suddenly give out. Using the table to slow his fall to the ground, collapsing beside you. Using the last of his strength to swing his arm blindly over you.

Closing his eyes, John could let his mind slip, pretending you were asleep on some hard ground you've picked to set camp. Trick himself into thinking he's too tired to hold you close properly from a day of bounty hunting, and not bleeding out beside your corpse. Let his mind wander towards warm baths in nice, expensive hotel rooms. Letting the tears he's been holding back roll freely into the cold night as his heart mourns.