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Cooper Winston

A good-for-nothing, womanizing, drunk asshole to the men, yet a rugged, smooth-talking, seductive bloke that makes the bodice tremble to the women.

0 · 251 views · located in Splitcreek, Arizona

a character in “Way Out West”, as played by InvisibleSoul

Description

Given Name: His name is Cooper Winston.

Nickname: Eh, it gonna be Cooper or, maybe even Coop.

Gender: Of course, he got that male-like… *sly Cooper wink* facial feature.

Age: Twenty-eight-and-never-counting.

Good Guy or Bad?: It depends on how you view a drunk womanizer who knows how to work a gun. Of course, Coop is just gonna shoot at any damn ol’ grouch who tries to mess with him and get in his way.

Position/Occupation: He is a well-trained hedonist. Why would’ja have all work and no play?

Personality: Coop is a good-for-nothing, womanizing, drunk asshole to the men, yet a rugged, smooth-talking, seductive bloke that makes the bodice tremble to the women. He gets content pretty easily if he’s got a woman on each limb (that makes five, right?) and bottles of whiskey, rum, or vodka in his hands. Through experience at after hours in saloons, he grew to become a man who knew how to get exactly what he wanted. Typically, he is friendly, is (maybe a bit too openly) sexy, and sure loves his alcohol. He uses his charms to get out of most troublesome positions – even going so far as to use them sexually on the men if he needed to – though he isn’t afraid to get in a brawl every so often. He loves to talk about himself, so if one genuinely asks him about good ol’ Cooper, he’ll go on and on….and on (and on). In the modern world, he would be one of those provocative, arousing, jock-like, party-hard, unemployed, woman magnets.

Skills: Getting drunk and getting the ladies. :3


History: Before turning into the covetable fellow he now behaves like, Cooper actually was a rambunctious young child. He had all the top qualities of a Tom Sawyer; he was curious, rebellious, and just all-around boyish. His long-term family consists of an oppressive, no-nonsense father that had a blacker heart than Blackbeard’s beard. His father wasn’t very friendly to anyone he met, and how Cooper’s mother ended up with him was a mind-blowing notion to everyone. Cooper’s mother wasn’t around very much; she often left the house for weeks at a time. Though, no one could blame her because of the emotional abuse Cooper’s father always placed on her. Cooper grew to get used to the strange way his father behaved. He never was physically abusive aside from harsh spankings when Cooper got in trouble; however, because Cooper got into trouble, one could consider the amount of spankings he received abusive. Due to his mother’s constant invisibility, Cooper never grew close to her and never really had anyone to teach him how to treat a lady aside from his father – whom always treated them like property. His friendships always would come and go, so he started to develop superficial relationships with others while still maintaining his friendly persona. Once reaching puberty and learning the ways of women and various related things, he realized that women were precious. Although he treated them as if they should all provide pleasure for the men, he treated them less like property. Once he left home, he pursued learning how to become a womanizer (though he never would admit to being one) and soon turned into the man he is today.

Courting anyone?: Every goddamn gal he sets his eyes on! Well, I suppose flirting with them really isn’t the same thing as courting….

Married?: Ain’t going to get into that ol’ crap.

Appearance: Cooper’s skin is a light bronze from days of playing or working outside shirtless. Of course, he just has to show off his body any time he gets. It’s one of his best features. (No. It *is* his best feature.) His straight, black hair is always in a sexy, shaggy mess, accentuating the light stubble he always seems to have around his beard/mustache area. His eyes are a deep brown, and occasionally make one want to just float into them due to the curious twinkle they always have. The eyelashes framing them are long and gorgeous - just adding to his attractiveness. Cooper’s lips are slightly thin-but-plump and always seem just right for smoothly transmitting the correct words from his mind to the world. His muscles in his arms and torso are not completely well-defined, though he is obviously fit. In a way, he has the body of a construction worker; he sure has the hands for it – they are just the right amount of rough-yet-soft to have qualities of a hard worker. He has the ruggedness and bad-boy-ness of an outlaw though he isn't one. This just makes him even more irresistible. His daily attire is always something like a half-long-sleeved button-up shirt that’s never buttoned up (though sometimes he’ll button up the last two buttons if he feels like it) and regular ol’ black cowboy jeans with typical black boots. His hat is a charcoal gray cowboy hat that he habitually is always adjusting. Lastly, he wears a small leather choker necklace with a mock animal tooth on it (like a small saber tooth tiger or something). Supposedly, this additional accessory makes women swoon over him. "One should also note that Cooper Winston coined the term "washboard abs", has a smoldering, 'come [hither]' gaze that can melt the coldest heart, AND has a really sexy tush" (Luv).

So begins...

Cooper Winston's Story

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Character Portrait: Cooper Winston Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Cooper was on his way into Splitcreek from what seemed like nowhere. His feet shuffled against the dirt on the ground as he followed the road into the unfamiliar town. In his hand was a dry vodka bottle – obviously recently emptied considering Cooper’s balance was unsightly. Under his breath, he muttered constant swears and slurs that really had no true meaning. After stumbling for the umpteenth time, Cooper spat down on the ground in front of him as if he blamed it for his inability to walk straight. Spitting seemed to cause him to lose more of his already-lost balance, so he figured batting his hat would make him look more suave. Of course, his hand never made contact with his hat because it was tilted too far back on his head. This was probably why his face was pinkish with a developing sunburn; the brim of his hat wasn’t properly shading his face from the sun. Like always, his shirt was wrinkled, dirty, and unbuttoned. Though being hopelessly drunk was a great injustice to him, his appearance made up for it. He had a rugged quality that seemed to fit his looks just right.

Anyway, it was apparent he had been stumbling through the sweltering hot desert for at least a day by how the dirt and sweat caked all over his skin and clothing.

Eventually, after several hopeless attempts at trying to walk properly, Cooper staggered his behind over to what was obviously the saloon. He paid no notice to the people passing by through the town or to the groups of people in the large, main street he gladly shared his presence upon. Though he was normally friendly and talkative to those that speak to him, he was being abnormal this time around. Evidently, it was due to his dehydration and unstable mind. If anyone said a single word to him, his brain would filter it out as random noise not worthy of processing. It was capable of thinking, however, because he had one word on his mind: saloon. His first attempt at walking through the doors to the saloon ended tragically with him running into the horse posts and falling hopelessly to the ground. While he lay there, he angrily chucked his vodka bottle up toward the sign to the saloon. Luckily (for the saloon owner) the bottle completely missed the path it was supposed to take and actually just lamely floated in the air four feet above the ground before crashing down next to Cooper’s head and breaking into glass shards. He flinched a good handful of seconds after he realized the glass had shattered so close to his beloved skull.

"Oh damn." Cooper slurred, rolling away from the glass shards and attempting to get onto his knees. His hat had fallen off, showing the matty and messy hair perched upon his head. He cleared his throat, squinting his eyes as he looked at the ground. "You gon'a 'elp me up, no? Jus' gotta push. Make lik' a wom'n an' push."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan "Doc" Crowe Character Portrait: Damian "Nomad" Kovacs Character Portrait: Jack Westfield Character Portrait: Bonnie Bohannon Character Portrait: Cooper Winston Character Portrait:
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Bonnie smile at the Doc before turning back towards her drink, which today was a great glass of bourbon, she took Damian turning away from her an indication that he didn't want to talk, not that she blamed him, poor fellow looed exhausted "well if you need anything I'll more than likely be at the school house" she smiled offering him the friendly gesture for him to take or leave as he pleased. Bonnie didn't know how long he was planning on staying for in Splitcreek but she figured it would perhaps make this town a little less daunting for the man, though she figured he had probably seen worse places.

Emptying her glass, the blonde frowned before rubbing her throbbing head, today had been so long but at least everything at the school was completed, now all that was left to do was inform the children of the town and try and persuade their parents that it was a good idea to let their children get an education. For her that would be given, but you'd be surprised how many parents discouraged the idea, shaking her head she shook those thoughts away, they were for tomorrow. "Jack can I have another bourbon please?" she asked with a small tired smile, sliding a silver dollar across the bar.

With a sigh, Bonnie ran a hand through her hair as she observed the people around her, people chatting idly as they played games of cards and drank heavily. She knew she didn't belong here, people quite often told her personally but she would smile sweetly and tell them to shove it where the sun don't shine, she wasn't as fragile as people assumed, the war not only changed men but women too.

Waiting for her drink, Bon drummed her nails on the bar only to hear the shattering of glass coming from outside, startled she jumped slightly before going to see what had caused the noise, frowning to see it was a drunken man on his knees amongst the glass, she picked up the hat that was beside him, holding it out for him "this yours?" she waiting for him to take, her eyes quickly searching for the sheriff, he he saw this the man would spend the next 24 hours in jail.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wildcat Kate Character Portrait: Bonnie Bohannon Character Portrait: Cooper Winston Character Portrait: Lucilla Winter Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Kate looked out at the main street from under the shade of the Alhambra Inn, swirling the toe of her boot in the dust. She had every intention of marching right over to the Silver Spur and having quite a few drinks at other people's expense (the money she had was, after all, not really her own, but stolen off various persons, businesses, etc.), but first needed to ensure the coast was clear. The issue of the stolen gold looked to have quieted down some, but the men were still hanging around the gunsmith's. Unfortunately for the murderous Hass, the miners had long since grown bored and were now thirsting for liquor rather than blood. To pass the time they were taking turns seeing who could spit the farthest, and none of them were doing particularly well.

A little further down the street sat a woman in a sapphire dress that, to Kate's untrained eye, looked both incredibly uncomfortable and highly impractical. Though a pair of trousers and a button-up shirt didn't make a particularly good disguise if you were trying to blend in as a female, they certainly made good riding clothes, and they were infinitely more practical for bank robberies and stage coach hold-ups and such.

There were other people about, but the woman on the bench and the group of miners looked to be the only stationary groups/persons, and lucky for Kate, neither had any idea of her presence. The marshal was nowhere to be seen (though she was certain he'd noticed her absence by now), and there seemed to be a general lack of action in Splitcreek. That is until three riders tore into town, shooting and hollering and making a scene. Some poor soul was being dragged behind them, and the gruesome scene cleared the streets in a hurry. It happened fast, too fast for Kate to process much anything, but she did know for certain that she was no longer the only outlaw in town.

When the screams of terrified women and cries of children had finally quieted down, Kate stepped out into the street and headed for the Silver Spur, taking care to avoid the mangled body now lying in the street. Christ, where was the town doctor when you needed him?

Kate heard Cooper before she saw him. He was, of course, cursing quite loudly, and creatively, too, filling the air with an impressive amount of colorful language. She stopped some thirty feet before the saloon and watched the unkempt man totter down the street, empty vodka bottle in hand, Stetson tilted at a rakish (and completely useless) angle. When the dust-caked man could no longer tackle the incredible challenge presented by walking, he fell/sat, in his very suave way, on his ass.

Eventually, the determined drunkard got to his feet again and made a valiant attempt to walk into the saloon, which ended with a broken vodka bottle and a very cross looking blonde woman standing over him. She made an attempt to return his hat, but with the alcohol-induced double vision, the poor cowboy didn't know which hat to grab. The blonde woman (who was also very fashionably/impractically dressed) looked to be at her wit's end with the man, and was looking around, presumably for someone to haul his sorry ass off to jail.

And Kate just couldn't let that happen. As someone who had enjoyed many a drink, it didn't seem fair to let the poor fool suffer for his inability to hold his liquor. Cue the charming (and definitely not an outlaw, don't mind the wanted posters) Kate, who hustled over to Cooper and Bonnie and flashed her biggest smile. "So sorry, Ma'am. This here's my brother, Virgil. He hurt his leg real bad 'bout a week ago, ain't that right, Virgil?" she asked the nearly incoherent Cooper, who mumbled another string of curses. "Anyway, he's been drinking to help the pain, and sometimes he has a little too much and just...wanders off." She gave Bonnie a "what're you gonna do?" shrug and hooked her hands under Cooper's armpits, attempting to haul him to his feet.

"Anyhow, I'll make sure to get him back to the house so he won't cause any more trouble." She smiled once more, and, before Bonnie could get in a word, proceeded to drag Cooper away from the saloon, huffing and puffing as she hauled him out of the sight. The minute she was sure the school teacher could no longer see Cooper's drunken form, she dumped him unceremoniously in the dirt and dusted off her hands, slumping down against the wall of the nearest building. She hadn't the slightest idea why she'd done what she had, but hell, if you were going to rescue a drunk, it might as well be a good looking one. And how lucky that the womanizing Mr. Winston should run into the one female Splitcreek who wasn't dressed as a female.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wildcat Kate Character Portrait: Bonnie Bohannon Character Portrait: Cooper Winston Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Cooper’s gaze dazedly glanced straight in front of him as he raised his eyebrows as if it would help him focus. The question this lady asked him didn’t process in his mind, though he did notice a string of hats in front of him. They were all the same color and shape, and - hey, didn’t they look like his hat? He chuckled drunkenly and batted out to the side in an attempt to grab it back. When his hand came back empty, he focused in on his hand and frowned.

Cooper took a few minutes to stare at his palm before suddenly pointing to his head and snorting, “My hat jus’ happ’ns to be on my he’d, now. I’d like d’rections to the saloon ‘nd to ‘yer bed.” His words half-smoothly exited his mouth as his head jerked up so he could see Bonnie’s face. Though he tried to grin his famously sexy grin, he couldn’t seem to figure out how to move his mouth in the way he wanted it to. Confusion immediately crossed over his face for the second time in this conversation.

Suddenly, he heard someone talking about this “Virgil” guy and something that he broke. His…clegg? It took him a long time to process where Kate’s voice was coming from, but once he realized where she was, he wasn’t happy. That name didn’t sit well with him. Virgil was a name of a fellow he met a while back whom was a lying, cheating con; he owed Cooper money that he would never see again in this lifetime. He provided a series of colorful curses as he looked down to the ground blearily. Then again, Virgil broke his clegg – whatever that was. After being done remembering the grudge he held, Cooper laughed at the thought of Virgil in agony and pain.

Unexpectedly, he felt Kate’s arms scooping under his, causing him to flinch immediately. “Touchin’ me in the wro’g place, sweeth’art. ‘Yer hands go down ‘ere.” He pointed down to the ground near his feet, but clearly meant to point to his lower body. Though he was trying to step away from Kate so he could give her a good look, he kept lumbering off to where she was taking him. His legs weren’t working correctly as they kept lurching out in uneven strides. For some reason, he couldn’t find his balance enough to fight back. After a few lopsided steps, he suddenly remembered what it was he was saying before. “Ahh,” he laughed, “th’s the way to ‘yer bed?” His slurs only made sense half of the time, though he thought he was being as suave as ever. He felt proud of himself for happening to pick up yet another gal, though his abductor then threw him on the ground not too long after he said that. His moment of floating about in his pride shattered, then, as he squirmed around in the dirt.

“This ‘ere is one uncomfy bed.” He finally, successfully, rolled over onto his back and laughed yet again as he squinted up to a nearby building.

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Character Portrait: Wildcat Kate Character Portrait: Cooper Winston Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Kate watched Cooper the way one might an adorable, retarded puppy, laughing as the man rolled around in the dirt. He was kind of cute, in a sleazy, seedy way. In any other "rescue" this would be the point at which Kate rifled through the pockets and personal belongings of whatever drunken man she happened to be in the company of, but the cowboy didn't look to have anything but the (sexily unbuttoned) shirt on his back. Still...

She scooted closer and, upon closer inspection, noticed the animal tooth dangling on the length of leather around his neck. "You shoot this yourself, tough guy?" she smirked, rolling the tooth over in her hand. It was a canine tooth, good and sharp, but not one of any animal Kate could identify. (Which meant it was probably fake). She briefly considered its value, wondering if she could sell it to a superstitious fool who believed in mythical beasts, but decided against it. "So," she continued, "what's it for? Good luck charm? Conversation starter? Tool of seduction?" She continued her search as she spoke, unabashedly rifling through his shirt and pants' pocket. This, of course, provoked another string of crass and immature comments, which Kate, for her own childish reasons, found ridiculously amusing. She wasn't sure the man could even understand her with all the liquor in his system, but looting a man's pockets without having the decency to make small talk seemed terribly rude.

To her dismay, the cowboy had only a few coins in his pants' pocket, which she was sure he would've used in the saloon if he'd been able to walk in the door. She would've lifted them from him, but she had money to spare at the moment, and taking petty cash from a drunk man wasn't nearly so fun as robbing banks and such. "Where're you from?" she asked casually, squatting at his side. She wasn't particularly interested in conversing with the comatose Cooper, but she was sure he'd been out in the desert, which meant there was a slim chance he might've seen Tuesday. If Tuesday's coming really was just a rumor, then hanging around Splitcreek was all risk and no reward.

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Character Portrait: Wildcat Kate Character Portrait: Cooper Winston Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Cooper’s head rolled over to look in the direction he figured Kate was. His eyes weren’t too far off from where she was; this meant he’d gotten a little bit better at focusing in on things since his arrival at Splitcreek. His brain also decided that processing in a little bit more of what this girl said would be useful, considering they were alone together – though he didn’t realize it was an alley. At the mention of his necklace, his shoulder twitched only slightly out of laziness; he didn’t want to lift up an arm to poke and prod at his necklace. “Darlin’, this ‘ere is my dog’s tooth.” He explained his fable, lifting his upper body up and resting on his elbows. He moved slowly, not wanting to provoke any dizziness again. Once he was comfortable, he continued speaking. “’er name was Veigha. Good dog, she was. You ev’r feel the love of a dog? She gave ten times m’re th’n ‘hat. Too bad she de’d.”

His eyes attempted to glance over her arms down to her hands to where he could feel someone – soon noticing it was Kate - touching him. Cooper gave her a sly smirk, raising an eyebrow sloppily as he tried to woo her in. “While y’re down th’re, you wanna g’ve us’selves a good time?” He chuckled when she pulled her hands out of his pockets almost as quickly as she put them in; empty pockets don’t take much time to search. “Y’re too scar’d to do much? I do und’rstand. Not lots’a ladies can handle all I gots to off’r. If y’re still want’n to play, give it a few minut’s and it’ll grow into m’re than m’re than you can handle.” Cooper chuckled, leaning onto his right elbow to reach his left hand up toward her face. “I can see that smile on y’er face. It means you fancy me, don’t ‘cha, babe? Or what’s it they all say? You like me. Can’t blame ya.” He pulled his leg further from her up to attempt to make himself look just a bit more attractive. Cooper Winston made a good model, posing there seductively for Kate.

Disappointed she didn’t answer his question right away and instead carried on with her search of his pockets, he watched her blearily. The watching seemed to have bored him, though, because he soon was dazed. His head rolled back slightly as he glanced up to the bright sky. While he would rather not look at the blinding and painful brightness, he couldn’t really find much energy to roll his head back forward. Instead of doing much, he just swore under his breath and closed his eyes.

“Where’re you from?” Kate’s words trailed off into one of Cooper’s ears and directly out the other, seeing as he never responded. All he seemed focused on doing was calming down from his alcoholic high. Maybe reaching serenity would be nice. After all, he’d just spent hours beyond hours wandering around in the desert with only a bottle of vodka and a few worthless pieces of coins in his pocket. Dumb bunch he hooked up with several towns back decided to abandon him smack dab in the middle of nowhere. They didn’t even have the kind notion of giving him his horse so they could fend for themselves together. Surely, Cooper deserved a moment to feel happy that he wasn’t going to die alone after all. Probably should be a moment of silence for his horse, though, considering he was probably dead or lost by now. Why would a small-town gang keep an extra horse around?

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Character Portrait: Wildcat Kate Character Portrait: Cooper Winston Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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There was a story behind the tooth (something about a dead dog?), but unfortunately articulation is not in the drunk person skill set. Between Cooper's slurred words and general drunkenness, Kate had a fair amount of difficulty trying to discern exactly what Cooper was telling her about Verna or Vegas or whoever it was. Whatever the story, it was clear Mr. Beer-for-brains wasn't nearly as suave or skilled as he would lead to believe.

She was quite amused by the drunk cowboy's come-on's, and she did she make an honest attempt to take him seriously, just to see what would happen. Finding it near impossible to keep a straight face, she grinned, which Cooper misconstrued for a lustful gaze. She reared back as he moved to touch her face, surprised the drunken man could even manage to lift his hand. "Hold your horses, cowboy," she laughed, taking hold of his hand, "the only thing I fancy is money, and you ain't got near enough of it to be fooling around with me."

She released his hand, which Cooper apparently couldn't be bothered to support on his own, and the appendage flopped onto his chest. The incredibly smooth Mr. Winston proceeded to adjust his pose, angling his smexy body towards Kate, and she shook her head as she watched the poor cowboy go half-blind as his head rolled skywards. How on earth had this fool made it out of the desert? (Actually, it was probably the vodka, and it must've been good stuff, too. She'd have to get some herself.)

She waited expectantly for an answer to her question, or at least another come-on, but Cooper seemed to have forgotten her presence entirely. Heaving a sigh, she joined Cooper on the dirt, her annoyance evident. It seemed she'd be getting no help from her drunken friend, which meant she still had nothing to go on but the rumors and whispers of Splitcreek's terrified townsfolk. "Can I at least have your name, cowboy?" asked Kate, tracing lazy circles in the dirt with the tip of her finger. "Of course, if you don't wanna tell me, Virgil works just as well."

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Character Portrait: Wildcat Kate Character Portrait: Cooper Winston Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Hearing Virgil’s name again seemed to snap Cooper back into his drunken reality. He immediately dropped all silent respects for his trusty steed and switched over to brewing up old grudges once more. “Oh, that damn bast’rd!” He muttered another curse or two, throwing his free hand up into the air as if batting away the concept of Virgil being anywhere near him. He went on with the subject, however, clearly not realizing that she had actually asked a question. His brain didn’t seem to care to stop and say ‘hey, wait a minute, buster…. Why’s she even talking about Virgil? What business does she got knowing about Virgil?’ Instead, he rambled on.

“He be a lyin’, cheatin’, stealin’, no-good bast’rd who don’t know how to keep his word. I’m a man o’ my word. Ya git that?” All issues with whether he lied before about Veigha or not aside, he truly was more of a man of his word than a lot of other lone cowboys were. He forced his head to lift up to give Kate a strangely contorted expression that was supposed to resemble a warning glare. “Virgil McCormick be a damn idiot. Those be sev…en words ya can take ‘tuh h’art.” Though he couldn’t count his words correctly in his head, he sure meant what he said.

He kicked his leg out as he pushed himself to sit up. As he gave a sigh, he shifted around to lean his back against the wall of the building he was closest to – nice and comfy brick wall to rest one’s back against, was it not? He sniffled and brought the back of his right hand – now finally showing itself as his dominant hand – up to wipe the sweat, boogers, and who-knows-what-elses from his nose. At the same time, he pulled his legs in so that they were bent yet again (though it was both legs this time) and rested his arms lazily over them. Sure, the process in which this took was a bit more sloppy and uncontrolled due to his state of being, but he looked quite normal in the end pose. What were a few arm tosses and leg spasms here and there if he ends up looking like a good, sexy beast?

“’E steals yer money an’ cons ya outta everythin’ ya own. ‘E ain’t a good fella to be ‘round. ‘E steals yer ladies and boots ya outta the town. Geez, I gotta score to settle with ‘im. Did’ja know someone c’uld make ya feel low’r than hell?” Cooper scoffed gruffly, hanging his head in the gap between his arms and closing his eyes. It was clear just by that posture that he didn’t feel too good – maybe that was whatever happened with Virgil…or maybe that really was just the vodka. That suddenly reminded him of his beloved drink, as he had already forgotten about his previous adventure of emptying and breaking his bottle. “Where’s my damn vodka? It’s this blasted heat. I need my drink.” He then lifted his head woozily and started his search around for the nonexistent vodka bottle.

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Character Portrait: Wildcat Kate Character Portrait: Cooper Winston Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Useless. The cowboy was completely and utterly useless. Kate listened to his drunken ramblings with disinterest, trying to reason why she'd bothered with him in the first place. Whoever this Virgil fellow was, Cooper certainly wasn't happy with him. From what she could tell (that is, what she could make out between the curses), Virgil was a lying bastard, and for some reason that just didn't sit well with the oh-so-moral fellow before her.

Virgil McCormick be a damn idiot...one, two, three, four, five, six...right, well, cowboys weren't really known for their mathematic skills, even when they weren't falling down drunk. She nodded along to his story, feigning interest in the hopes he might accidentally say something useful. No such luck. No longer content with his position in the dirt, Cooper made an attempt to sit up, managing the task with the arrogance and suaveness of someone much less drunk. Really, as long as he didn't open his mouth, you wouldn't even know he was a complete and total moron.

He steals yer money and cons ya outta everything you own... Well then, it was a good thing Cooper didn't know she was a lying, thieving snake herself, or the two of them might have a real problem. Though not particularly interested in stealing a man's woman, she'd happily steal anything else of value, and she had a feeling that if she'd known this Virgil fellow they'd have been bosom friends.

She watched as Cooper dropped his head, the liquid courage of the vodka apparently wearing off. The cowboy was now heading into the less pleasant stage of drunkenness, one that would no doubt end with him sprawled out face down in the dirt. But until then, Cooper was quite sure he needed another drink, and quickly, as it'd been at least fifteen minutes since he'd had a bottle of booze to suckle on. Kate rolled her eyes, toying with the tail end of her braid. "It's gone, cowboy. You and the saloon doors had a disagreement, and you came damn close to wearing the remains of that vodka bottle in your skull," she scoffed.

"You need a place to sleep this," she gestured to his slumped over frame, "off. And no, my bed ain't an option."

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Character Portrait: Wildcat Kate Character Portrait: Cooper Winston Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Out of frustration when finding that his precious alcohol was gone, Cooper’s hand dropped over his leg to smack at the earth below him. The sandy texture of the dirt followed the motion of his hand to create a small dust cloud beside him. That was not one of Cooper’s best ideas, though, because most of the dust went into his breathing pathway and he instantly inhaled the dry particles. As he fell into a miniature coughing fit – after all, dirt particles down your trachea isn’t a very comforting feeling - he slumped over to the side slightly, his head glanced toward the ground as if he were about to throw up everything but his heart.

“You need a place to sleep this off. And no, my bed ain’t an option.” Kate pointed out, preparing to block out any coy responses Cooper might have. However, Cooper easily noticed a loophole and directly proceeded to plot a just-as-witty retort.

As soon as the coughing died off, Cooper went to sit up and look at Kate with his sly and signature you-know-you-want-me look. His ability to control his expressions improved greatly since his arrival - as his unique expression now actually looked more like a proper face used to hit on a lady. Whether Kate was considered a lady really wasn’t in play here, however, considering her apparent, unlady-like behaviors. “No? How’s ‘bout on top ‘a ya?” He chuckled, giving her a subtle wink along with the flirtatious twinkle in his eyes. He would have gone on with whatever other dirty innuendoes he could come up from that if not for the two more coughs that interrupted him.

After Cooper composed himself, he attempted to find his posture again by scooting back up against the wall –he had somehow started slouching and felt that that needed some correction. Once comfortable again, Cooper leaned his head back against the wall and continued to give Kate his gaze; the gaze where it had the right mix of softness and seduction where it made one feel needed and loved yet, at the same time, lusting to go on a voyage of passion with him.

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Kate watched as the drunken cowboy launched into a self-induced coughing fit, wheezing on the dust he'd churned up. She herself was prepared for the miniature dust storm, and pulled her kerchief up about her mouth and nose until the sandy grit had cleared. Cooper didn't fare as well, and ended up looking perfectly miserable as he rested against the wall.

He was quick to recover, however, and turned his smoldering eyes on Kate, managing an expression that looked almost normal. As far as drunk men went, he was twice as obnoxious as any she'd meant, but pretty attractive, too, which almost made up for his inability to form a proper sentence. The fact that he was unabashedly flirting amused Kate to no end, because 1. She was not the kind of gal men flirted with. Ever. (Especially when she got friendly with her pistol). And 2. The cowboy seemed completely oblivious to the fact that his jaunt through the desert had left him covered with dust from head to toe (and not smelling particularly pleasant, either). Not that Kate was one to judge. She and the wash basin had never had a very close relationship, and it was a miracle she'd even bothered to wash before leaving the Alhambra Inn. But at least Kate was aware of her appearance. The drunken man before her had an almost devout belief that he was, had been, and always would be God's gift to the female species.

But his comeback did make her laugh, perhaps a little too loudly. On top of her? Was he serious? The rehearsed wink and low, sultry chuckle indicated a man who'd spent years perfecting his sexy facade, and hey, who was Kate to shoot him down so soon? "Cowboy, I don't think you could ride a horse in the state you're in, let alone me," she smiled, shaking her head.

He coughed again, but recovered quickly, arranging his long, tanned limbs into an appetizing display of casual but oh-so-sexual appeal. Kate wasn't exactly buying it, but she sure wasn't going to stop him, either. And he was trying awfully hard, which was rather impressive, considering he'd had so much to drink. But what was she going to do with him? She certainly couldn't keep him around, but she didn't have the heart to leave the poor, lusting cowboy in the alleyway.

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Cooper’s gaze turned into one of serious consideration. He glanced her over, his eyes jerking from one point to the next, as he couldn’t smoothly focus in on all the parts of her body at once. His drunken state caused his vision to decline immensely despite giving him an almost euphoric high. As he glanced over her, he wasn’t ashamed to look at her bosom – though he couldn’t truly see much due to her baggy clothing. That was the mysterious wonder of the woman, though. Sure, he liked the girls that liked to flash everyone their lovely embellishments, but he also loved the secretive ones. The girls that had something to hide; the girls like Kate.

He laughed heartily along with her, finding her laugh to be a tad bit infectious – especially since he was in a drunken state where everything seemed humorous. “Darlin’, if ya ain’t happy with the way I ride, then you can feel free to take charge. It ain’t all on the gentleman, now is it? Aft’r all, ain’t you a good rider yer’self?” Cooper met her gaze once more, his playful twinkle remaining in his eyes. His legs suddenly dropped flat on the ground as he threw a hand onto his crotch carelessly. “This’s an easy stallion to ride, ya know. Easier than yer own horse, I’ll bet’cha. Of course, if ya don’ know how’ta then I could 'elp ya.”

He snickered, his fingers twitching on the material of his dusty jeans. With that, it almost seemed as if he were desperate; desperate…in a non-desperate way, of course. Cooper then rolled over slightly and shifted onto his hands and knees. Almost as quickly as he blurted out his too-sexy comments, he seemed to have turned into some sort of gentleman. Maybe it was the vodka wearing off – in any case, the after-effects of alcohol really didn’t make a man feel wondrous. “I ain’t gonna force ya to do nothin’. But if ya want to get me off’a yer case and quit buggin’ ya, then heave me ov’r to the saloon. I’m dyin’ a thirst.”

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Kate was vaguely aware of Cooper's eyes roving her body. Of course, rove wasn't really the right word, as it suggested at least some amount of smoothness. It was more accurate to say that his gaze was jerking about, as he couldn't seem to take in more than one body part at a time. In any case, it didn't particularly concern her, as there really wasn't anything to see. A plain button-up shirt done up to her collarbone and a kerchief on top of that; it didn't get much more conservative. Kate had always found low-cut dresses and corsets to be ridiculously uncomfortable, impractical, and generally obnoxious, and had done quite well for herself parading around in men's clothing. She could never understand the appeal of being, well, appealing. She had other ways of letting loose, many of which involved illegal action, but no matter.

The cowboy surprised her with an oh-so-charming offer that left even our crass, loud mouth outlaw red in the cheeks. “Darlin’, if ya ain’t happy with the way I ride, feel free to take charge. It ain’t all on the gentleman, now is it? After all, ain’t you a good rider yerself?” She quickly recovered, turning her blue eyes on him and flashing a brilliant smile. "The very best, cowboy." If he wanted to flirt, well, two could play at that game. "Of course, I use a pair of spurs and a whip on my horse, so..." she turned out her heel, showing off the wicked bit of metal protruding from the back of her boot, "I hope you won't mind if I do the same here."

She looked as his hand, positioned so very conveniently on his crotch, and laughed again, shaking her head. It was too much. He was too much, though she couldn't bear to leave him just yet. But just as Kate was getting into the game, the suddenly gentlemanly Cooper seemed to change his mind. In the most stately manner he could manage, the cowboy moved to his hands and knees, abandoning his modelesque position against the wall. "Cowboy, you couldn't force me if you tried," she muttered, clapping a hand on his back. "And I hate t'burst yer bubble, but ain't nobody going to serve you in the saloon with you in the state you're in. Especially if you try to seduce the bartender," she added, offering him a hand. "But if you can drag yer ass out of the alley, I'll see what I can do for you."

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Though Cooper felt tempted to respond to her snide comment about her riding abilities, he didn’t feel too focused at the moment. His mind was jumping all over the place and he only now just realized he was about to wean off of the alcoholic high he’d been hiding behind this entire time. As he attempted to stand, Cooper’s arms and legs seemed to buckle underneath his weight on the first time he tried. Miraculously, his arms caught himself just in time so his face wouldn’t get the chance to get to know the ground a bit more intimately. He ended up on his stomach with his legs flat out behind him and his forearms holding his upper body above the ground.

“Mm,” Cooper groaned slightly, closing his eyes tightly. His groan seemed to have multiple purposes. For one, it served as a general response to Kate – just so that she knew he was acknowledging her; and two, it served as his recognition of how nauseated he was getting. The short stumble caused his stomach to pipe up, in a way, and it decided to quicken its process of digesting the vodka (and sending it on its way to his liver – but that’s another story perhaps Morgan would be interested in). “I’m ‘fraid my ass ain’t gonna be dragged by me. It’s impossible. Ya ev’r tried to drag ‘yer own ass? It’s diff-cult ‘tuh ‘git a good grip on it.” His voice sounded low and rough – another indication of how he may not be feeling so hot anymore. Though his steamy bod was still there, his egocentric personality was cooling down a good bit.

Cooper scoffed, shaking his head back and forth before deciding to attempt getting up to his feet a second time. He was met with greater luck this time around as he actually managed to lift his upper body onto his knees without too much swaying and flailing about. His eyes were still closed, which probably brought on a bit of misfortune due to his inability to not sway while comfortably kneeling in the dirt. Eventually he managed to pry his eyelids open just enough to squint ahead to the entrance of the alleyway.

After smacking his lips a few times (showing his parchedness), he heaved a sigh and croakily, yet softly, spoke again, “Liss-ten,” he drew out the “s” sound while he thought (hey, this is a difficult process, give him some credit). “I think I’m gonna ‘git sick. Do… Would’ja be a kind gal an’ ‘git me to some wat’r?” He seemed unsure of himself, asking himself the question over and over in his mind – was he really going to get sick or was it his dehydrated mind playing jokes on him? Dehydrated, of course, was replaced with something along the lines of “vodka-drained”.

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Kate watched the drunken (well, no longer drunk so much as suffering from alcohol-induced illness) cowboy attempt to get to his feet, teetering on his unsteady legs like a newborn colt. Cooper seemed to be entirely preoccupied with attempting to stand, never mind the added challenge of maintaining a front of flirtatious suavity. Kate briefly considered offering her assistance, but watching his woozy swaying was far too satisfying. Perhaps it was wrong to be so entertained by someone's misery, but the insensitive outlaw never had been a prime example of moral behavior.

She started forward as he headed towards the dirt, but through some reflexive action he was able to catch himself. The end result of his fall was a position that could almost be mistaken for lounging, had one not been able to hear the groans resulting from his nausea. Kate wasn't exactly sure what to make of the moaning man, and she was beginning to wonder if they'd ever get out of the alley. In the cowboy's current state, it seemed highly unlikely. There was an unpleasant gurgling sound, presumably made by his stomach, and Kate took a tentative step back, just to be cautious.

Cooper, however, was quick to chime in with another quick remark, ridiculing Kate's instructions in his usual obnoxious fashion. Still, it was clear the dynamic personality that was Cooper Winston wasn't quite so chipper as before, and the cowboy remained in the dirt. Kate wasn't all that surprised that Cooper was feeling as ill as he was. In addition to making already obnoxious people almost unbearable, vodka also had several other less-than-pleasant effects, most of which Cooper was already or would soon be experiencing.

He was determined, though; Kate had to give him that. After a few more groans, Cooper made a second attempt to stand up and was actually able to get to his knees. He wasn't even flailing (well, not much). In fact, if you squinted your eyes and turned your head to the side, he could almost be mistaken for a normal person. Almost.

She watched as the cowboy tentatively opened his eyes, squinting down the alleyway and out towards the main street of Splitcreek. He was moving slowly, much too slowly for our incredibly impatient outlaw, but Kate stayed all the same, looking down on his hunched-over frame with her arms crossed over her chest. Finally he spoke up, informing Kate of his sickness, as if it wasn't perfectly obvious. “I think I’m gonna ‘git sick. Do… Would’ja be a kind gal an’ ‘git me to some water” Kind gal? Kind gal? There wasn't a kind bone in Kate's scrawny little body.

But there was something terribly tragic about watching the drunken man kneel in the dirt, barely able to keep his balance. Perhaps he'd suffered enough. "Fine," she mumbled, adjusting her hat. "But don't move, ya hear?" (Something told Kate that that wouldn't be a problem). "The last thing you need is the sheriff coming by and hauling your drunken self off to jail. Though anybody who's stupid enough to drink a whole bottle of vodka probably deserves a night in jail," she muttered, mostly to herself. "I swear, if all your brains were dynamite, there wouldn't be enough to blow your nose." The last bit was said over her shoulder as she sauntered out of the alley, leaving the still-queasy cowboy behind her.

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Cooper groaned, slowly rolling over onto his back. Somehow, he had been transferred from his last location in an alley somewhere into.... Where exactly was he? His eyes refused to open, instead closing even more tightly. There was a bright light in his face - one that seemed like the sun was practically touching his face. The blinding pain was there, though the heat wasn't. His knees bent as if he wanted to curl up to protect himself from whatever harm this bright light was going to initiate.

"Damn, blasted light...." Cooper muttered, tossing onto his side and turning his head against whatever it was he was laying on. He wasn't in the mood to wake up ready to start his day. Now, he was suffering the consequences from drinking the second half of a vodka bottle: migraine and a throat that had acid eating away at it. He cleared his throat, trying to remember what happened yesterday.

"Lissen, Coop. 'Yer becomin' a liability. Can't have 'ya hangin' around no more. So go on. 'Git." Virgil spat, hopping up on the brown stallion Cooper had grown to call his own. The two boys were in the middle of the desert, supposedly to meet up with some of Virgil's friends. So far the two had been wandering around in a medium-sized circle for hours, sharing a full bottle of vodka and a flask of water, waiting for the untimely "other buddies". Virgil turned back on his word, though, seated high up on the younger of the two stallions. "I've decided you're too much to handle."

"Wh...Virgil, 'git off my horse." Cooper started to look a bit more angry at the man, reaching out to grab his horse's harness. Virgil had taken charge of the horse, however, and quickly turned the horse away from Cooper's reach. The other, older, horse simply nickered and wandered over to a small bush nearby.

"In case you 'fergot, Coop, this horse is mine." Virgil winked. "Think of it as a rental."

"You bastard! I gave you blasted gold for this stallion! You can't go 'round callin' that a damn rental!"

"No? You don't gotta accept that. How 'bout I jus' take it back." He chuckled, continuing, "There's a town that a ways," Virgil nodded his head in the direction of Splitcreek. "See if you can make it." Before Cooper made it over to the other horse, Virgil evilly pulled out his handgun and shot the poor horse three times. "I ain't gonna make it that easy on ya." With a whinny, the horse Virgil was riding bolted off toward the supposed town Cooper was supposed to go to. If it wasn't for the bottle of vodka in his hand, Cooper surely would have been done for.


Cooper swore as the memories came flooding back. Virgil - his lying, no-good, supposed best friend - had left him out in the desert to die. Realizing that he struggled to remember any more after that, Cooper decided that he blacked out a while after he started begrudgingly walking toward the town. The vodka had started to get to his head. However, he could vaguely remember some guy - or was it just a masculinely-dressed gal? With another swear - and after preparing himself for what he may see - Cooper forced himself to sit up and open his eyes to finally assess his surroundings.

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Kate had had a smashing good time last night. After dragging the still very intoxicated Cooper over to the Alhambra Inn, she had paid her good friend at the front desk to haul his ass up to a room and lay him down. Unconcerned with his well-being beyond that point, she had headed over to the Silver Spur and, in her disguise-that-was-not-really-a-disguise, had quite a few drinks with the overly sociable men at the bar. She was still riding the high of her escape earlier that day, and it had taken all of her (minimal) self control to keep from blabbing about all she'd gotten away with and who she was, especially when the drinks started flowing.

By some miracle she had managed to stumble back over to the Alhambra Inn in the wee hours of the morning, where she had curled up in the bed paid for by the last bank unfortunate enough to be paid a visit by Wildcat Kate. It was the best sleep she'd had in ages, and by consuming a gross amount of water she'd managed to avoid the worst part of her hangover. After four days in the desert the comfort of a bed was a welcome change, but the ridiculously loud people of Splitcreek had roused her from her pleasant slumber early that morning with the sounds of their business. Why did people get up so damn early? It was scorching hot 'til late afternoon anyway; why bother getting up before noon? The best course of action was to sleep all day and only get up when business at the saloons picked up. Of course, only the extremely wealthy (or crafty, lowlife outlaws) were able to afford this lifestyle, so maybe that was a tad impractical.

In any case, Kate had awoken early and paid the man at the desk (who she was becoming very chummy with, given all the money she'd slipped him over the past 24 hours), to bring her a coffee and some kind of food. Unfortunately, "some kind of food" amounted to some tough jerky and a hunk of bread. When the man brought her the breakfast, he reminded her of her snoring friend in the room next door, prompting a flood of memories of the drunken cowboy she'd "saved" the day prior.

Now, it wasn't that she felt any amount of responsibility for him, but she was curious as to whether the drunken buffoon had survived the night. And so she had made her way over to his room and, in her very forward and I-don't-really-care-what-you're-doing-I-paid-for-this-room-and-I'm-coming-in-whether-you-like-it-or-not way, barged in. "Mornin', sunshine," she crowed, waltzing in.

Cooper was looking very uncomfortable, all tangled up in his sheets, and he obviously hadn't been sober enough to close the blinds before conking out, as the blazing Splitcreek sun was shining directly on that cute little "ZOMGguysI'msohungover" face of his. "Remember me?" she smiled, making her way to his bedside and poking her freckled face close to his. "I'm sure I don't look near as attractive now that you've sobered up, but y'all had a grand old time making a nuisance of yourself yesterday.”