Know My Name - a RDR2 Story

Permanent Poker Face

Let me tell you a story about a young woman who fell into two crowds: the good and the bad.
Of course, there are pros and cons to each category, but I suppose it only depends on the way you look at it...

TW!: burn wounds, heart attacks, smoking, use of alcohol
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Brock lived up to his personally given title of the 'most chivalrous man' amongst the four outlaws. If Kam were to choose a suitable man to marry amongst everyone in the world, Brock may just cross her mind. When she woke around 5am, Brock had already been up and running. She groggily asked what he was doing, which triggered a shiver up the older twin's spine. He was leaning over the desk, shoulders hunched, hair frizzed, and he was only slightly dressed.

He wasn't wearing anything extravagant, per say, but his white button-up shirt, leather suspenders, and black dress pants made him seem like the head of a poker table from behind. After he found her conscious, he immediately struck up a conversation with her. He asked if she had slept well, if she was hungry, and if he had, by chance, crossed over the clear boundary she had set when it came to sharing the sheets. Every question was answered with a grunted hum.

Then he disappeared. She blinked for a second and he was out the door. Minutes later, he returned with two bread rolls and a bowl of plump berries. Kam would've kissed him right then and there if she wasn't 'Kam O'Driscoll'. She wasn't the type of woman to swoon over some man bringing her food, but lately, she didn't know. Emotions were... confusing, to say the least.

She thanked him as he sat the painted dishes next to her before strutting back over to the desk. After taking a bite out of a red, succulent berry, Kam spoke. "You look tense."

Brock flinched and turned his head over his right shoulder, making slight eye contact with his black-haired friend. "Do I? I don't feel tense." he said in a calm voice.

Kam stepped out of the bed--despite her body's opposition--and walked over to the tall man. His hands were placed flat on the desk, a large map of Chicago in between them with papers, letters, personal notes, and pencils scattered everywhere. The desk was not like this when she went to bed last night. Kam began to wonder how long Brock had really been awake before she was. If he had even gone to bed at all.
He sure as hell looked like he hadn't slept in hours.

"When's the tournament?" she asked, admiring the yellow-stained map and the suspicious stains amongst it.

"Tomorrow night." he paused. "But, Kam, there's something you should know."

He turned his head to make eye contact, but kept his body firmly attached to the desk. Kam waited for an answer, hoping that it wasn't something about Colm or Dutch. Then, just as he opened up his mouth, a body burst through the door with a smash. Bram stood in the doorway.

"Ah, good! You're both awake. I thought we could go over the plan." From behind Bram emerged Pierce, and he definitely was not a morning person. While Bram had already pomaded his hair back, Pierce's dark-brown hair was curled up into a messy ponytail while darker circles tainted his eyes. Kam wasn't even sure he registered walking into the room.

The moment Pierce made eye contact with the bed, he flopped right onto it and stayed there, his shoulders rising and falling with every breath. He looked so peaceful; Kam would've guessed he was dead, but he wasn't--thank God.

"Me n' Pierce actually planned it all out. Did it while y'all were arguin'." she stated, earning a muffled grunt of acknowledgement from the man on the bed. The twins shared a look that was between humiliation and slight annoyance. Whether the annoyance was from each other or the sentence that spilled from her mouth, she had no idea. What she did know, however, was that they still weren't on steady ground with each other.