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[center][b][color=7ea7d8]Mentions:[/color][/b] pretty much everybody [/center]

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Simon had, quite honestly, not expected to make any acquaintances or really interact with anyone during this race. It just seemed like it'd be the sort of thing you'd burn through quick as can be. And the idea of interacting with competitors made him a bit queasy in all honestly. He expected them to throw insults his way, call his mustache bad and his hat tacky, and maybe push him over a few times. Getting punched through a bar by a ghost was honestly better than ridicule in Simon's book.

Point being, when, on the way to Cecilia to get the first aid kit from her saddlebag, his new semi-friend maybe acquaintance Jules suggested he stick with her during the desert portion of the race. Well, her exact words were 'stick with us' but he assumed the 'us' likely referred either to her horse, or to the yellow badger man who tended to show up around the same time as her. He responded with silence for a good bit of the walk, not to be rude, but rather because he was completely dumbfounded by the offer. He really hadn't expected such good sportsmanship from this event, especially given his previous interactions.

[b][color=7ea7d8]"I think I'd like that. Ah'm not exactly fond o' deserts, so not havin' ta go it alone sounds good ta me. Thank y'kindly fer th' offer."[/color][/b] He finally said as they arrived at his horse. The idea of not having to go it alone and no longer being forced to watch his back 24/7 for any signs of an angry competitor ready to metaphorically or literally stab him in the back was a massive relief.

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Nope, never mind. No sirree. The idea of not having to watch his back sure was good in theory, but in practice it just weren't meant to be. Seeing as how the 'us' Jules had referred to was not the yellow badger man, or at least not [i]just[/i] him. It was every single person she had talked to at the bar. Including the person who punched both of them right out of it. So instead of being able to metaphorically lean on someone else instead of carrying all of his paranoia by himself, Simon was now considerably more paranoid. After all, the person most likely to beat the crap out of him was riding less than ten feet away.

That alone would've been enough to make Simon ride all the way back to Salt Lake City if there wasn't so much money on the line, but it was honestly the least of his worries. No matter how imposing the Brutal Bartending Cowboy with the violent ghost was, he just hadn't done enough to inflict the same level of trauma on Simon as deserts had. He really thought it wouldn't be an issue, after all, Simon survived, his horse survived, and they made it back home alright when they were stuck in that awful desert. 

Simon was wrong. It was a big issue, everywhere he looked he was getting reminders about it. And the worst part was, Simon couldn't tell if it really did look the same, or if it was just because it was a desert, and all deserts had pretty darn similar scenery all things considered. The paranoia was almost enough to distract from the heat that made him back inside his coat until he was forced to take it off and pray no one heard the loud clattering of the baubles and trinkets stored inside it. And, of course, because desert heat wasn't bad enough, now that the sun was setting, it was getting cold [i]fast.[/i] 

Thankfully, they had agreed to set up camp for the night. Which Simon appreciated as he was both physically and emotionally drained. The atmosphere was quiet, all Simon could hear was the sound of the stew cooking, and the sound of his horse chewing away on the oats he had laid out for her. Some would probably enjoy the type of silent serenity around the camp. Simon only saw it as the calm before the storm. And as if on cue, the imposing cowboy who tried to wallop him spoke up. Simon's eyes practically popped right out of their sockets at his words. Not the only one [i]following this girl?[/i] Was he a stalker? Did the others know? Why were they okay with it? [i]WERE THEY BEING HELD HOSTAGE!?[/i] Was Simon being held hostage now too?!

Despite the chilly temperature, Simon was forced to wipe nervous sweat off his brow. He takes a moment to steady himself, and then attempts to respond as calmly as possible. [color=7ea7d8][b]"S'at so?"[/b][/color] His voice cracked during the immensely brief sentence. Consarn it. That wasn't casual in the slightest.