Who, Cerberus: An RDR Undead Nightmare Story [ John Marston x OC ]

xxviii. "I know what you're cooking up in here"

Ruby buzzed around the small room, John's hair catching in her subtle wake. She crossed in front of him, the revolver held aloft in her crooked arm, gathering up her clothing in her other hand; a heavy skirt from the dresser, a blouse with a lace-trimmed collar from the wardrobe, back to the dresser for a pair of dainty white socks. She set the gun down to button the shirt over her bare chest, then realized she was missing her underclothes, stripped back down, started over. She was unfocused and erratic, shaking when she was still, and made repeated, fleeting looks toward the other room, to where Anna was sleeping.

"He can't know that we're there to confront him, least not at first," she said, a repetition of a statement she'd made five minutes before. John felt a pang of concern and stood up, moved to her slowly. He wrapped his long fingers around her wrists, gently keeping her still. For a moment, he'd seen a flash of the Ruby he'd known six years ago; but she had been someone with nothing to lose, then.

John released one of her wrists to cup her cheek, comb her loose hair behind her ear. "How about you stay here, while I pay dear Liam a visit?" He said it intending to sound cavalier, but couldn't help the low growl in his throat on 'Liam.' Ruby's eyes fixed on him. "I have some opinions on how he treats his employees, much less his sister."

Her gaze slid again to the door, a moment of seriously considering his offer, before she shook her head, forcefully. "No, you'll need me to get in. I'll distract Liam while you talk to Mr. West Dickens." John scowled, having forgotten for a moment that Nigel was a piece of this puzzle. "He owes you his life, John; don't let him forget it. Get him to help you get the stock of weapons, maybe find somewhere to take it from there."

"My ranch," John offered, and Ruby's eyes widened. "I can bury it safe, watch over it." Her face was one of gratitude, then, and she embraced him, breathing deeply into his bare chest, finally still.

She fastened her hidden holster to her thigh, pushed the revolver into it, threw the skirt overtop. John held his town clothes out to her, perplexed. "Oh, you can't wear those, Mr. visitin' rancher," she stifled a laugh. "Here." Ruby took the clothes from him, save for his undershirt, proffered her discarded boilersuit. It went as far as his torso but had no hope of going over his shoulders, so she tied the arms around his waist, concealed the second revolver behind his back, tucked into the waistband, and shrugged.

"Do I look professional, you think?" John smirked through his false-sincerity, and she clamped a laugh to her mouth. "I really want this job," he continued, and she batted his shoulders, laughing still. Anna walked in as Ruby was tying John's long, dark hair into her kerchief, snorting audibly.

"What are you doing, mama?" The girl asked, unsure of this playful side of her mother.

"Playing dress-up, my darlin' girl," Ruby replied, tucking a loose lock of hair into the fabric and turning to their daughter, "don't Mr. Marston look fine?" Anna giggled. "C'mon, slowpoke, we've got to dress you up, for school." Ruby left the room to get Anna dressed, and John sat alone on the bed, breathing deeply, galvanizing himself for their endeavour to come.

*

After dropping Anna off, Ruby lingered by the schoolyard fence, her face wistful watching the girl play hopscotch with her classmates. John lay a comforting hand on Ruby's back until she shook herself into focus, then trailed her to the western side of the city, the industrial district. The Dickens and Flannery factory was set up just across the southern bridge into town, rebuilt after all of Saint Denis' undead madness. The same illustrations on the billboard John had seen in Chinatown were plastered over its windowless façade, the smug expression on Liam's likeness - if he could be so generous with the word - igniting a rage in his chest.