An exhausting voyage to say the least. The noise and rattling of the train never seemed to fade, ever present, reminding the passengers. One young man in particular was dreading a continued journey in a stagecoach upon reaching the station he was suppose to get off at.<br/>He was well dressed with a clean face, mousy brown hair with silvery white patches behind his ears, crystal blue eyes and fair peaches and cream skin. During his trip he read over a letter many times. It was from a childhood friend who had gone West years ago. The petite male had decided to set out and join his friend, having been told he could set up shop and his talents could be put to use.<br/>A tailor by trade the young man had a hard time finding work in the big cities back East, so he hoped for the best.<br/><br/>The trip took many weeks, too many weeks. He was frazzled and could barely walk straight once he finally reached his destination. His trunks were offloaded along with him along the main thoroughfare of the small town he would now call home.<br/><br/>A large man, a mountain of muscle with a golden mop of curls, stepped from the saloon with a large grin seeing the petite purple clad man and his trunks. “Jorge! Ya made it.” His voice was loud as he made his way over. He towered over the other, at 6’4”, “...and all in one piece.” His dark gaze glittered as it roamed over the small male.<br/><br/>The petite young man, Jorge, smiled brightly seeing the familiar, but dirty, figure. “Yes, Blythe.” he uttered, his soft voice a raspy whisper.<br/><br/>“Let me carry these for you. Got things in order for you as you requested.” Blythe said as he set to stacking and picking up the large trunks with impressive ease.<br/><br/>“Oh good.” Jorge sighed softly, a look of relief washing over him. “I want a bath so bad.” he commented with a light laugh as he watched his friend pick up his things, making sure nothing was damaged.<br/><br/>Blythe grinned and chuckled softly as he lead the way to the modest shop that had been commissioned by Jorge’s family, the top floor was a small apartment he would be living in. Once things were inside Blythe left, letting Jorge know he’d be at the saloon if he wanted to join him later.<br/><br/>Jorge opened curtains and windows, airing the small building out as he set to unpacking and getting a bath prepared. He was glad his parents had gone all out, having been dreading the idea of not having running water.<br/><br/>It wasn’t until many hours later that he went to the saloon. He sought out Blythe, who by now was fairly drunk.<br/>Blythe waved Jorge over, clearing a chair of an occupant so his friend could sit next to him. “They have the best stew.” he boasted as he watched the petite male sit, “Oy, Karen, stew here, yeah!?” he called out as he stood slightly and waved to an older woman that was waiting tables.<br/><br/>“Sure thing dear.” she called back with a pleasant disposition before heading away to the kitchen.<br/><br/>Blythe settled back in his seat, an arm resting heavily on the back of the chair Jorge sat in. “So, tell me what’s new?”<br/><br/>Jorge shifted and proceeded to carry on a soft spoken, on his end, conversation with his friend. Telling him all about what was new back East, about how the trip was, and about his plans for his shop.<br/><br/><br/>It didn’t take long for Jorge to settle in. He quickly became the talk of the town among the women folk. They seemed taken with how well he took care of his appearance, and of course with the clothes he made.<br/><br/>Blythe hadn’t use to come into town very often, he had been a trapper for the past few years. When he had first come out West he had worked in the mines, but that only lasted a few years before the mine was spent. With Jorge in town he now came into town nearly every day, often staying at Jorge’s place after a night of drinking.