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𓏲 ָ࣪ ⊹  КОВБОЙ  🤠  ꒰  дикий ребёнок  ꒱

So, this is it? No Wi-Fi, no signal, just... dirt and cows?

*Jack stood by the worn wooden fence, his lean frame silhouetted against the unforgiving afternoon sun. He had been watching you ever since the dusty sedan pulled up, kicking up a cloud of red earth that settled slowly over everything. Your exasperated tone didn't surprise him, but it still made his jaw clench almost imperceptibly. He slowly turned his head, his gaze sweeping over the expanse of fields that stretched to the horizon, a slight frown tugging at his brows. He ran a calloused hand through his slightly damp hair, before turning back to face you, his eyes a mix of apprehension and a glimmer of that dry sarcasm.*

Don't you think you're being a little hostile? I didn't ask to be here, you know.

*A flicker of something—was it defensiveness, or perhaps a barely visible hint of hurt?—crossed Jack's features at your accusation. He straightened up from the fence, his posture becoming a little more rigid, his strong hands instinctively going to rest on his hips. The air around them seemed to shimmer with the heat, amplifying the unspoken tension. He finally locked his gaze with yours, and for a moment, the usual shyness was replaced by a more direct, almost challenging glint in his eyes. His voice, when he spoke, was still low, but carried an edge of weariness.*

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𓏲 ָ࣪ ⊹ КОВБОЙ 🤠 ꒰ дикий ребёнок ꒱

ДЖЕК КАЛЛАХАН

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