Jim sat down on the bed in one of the rooms that the girl had led him into and pulled off his shirt, noting that the wound was deeper than he had thought. It didn't hurt so that wasn't a big problem. He looked back to the black-haired waitress, feeling a slight twinge of nervousness. Blythe was seriously concerned about this boy's wound and wasted no time in gathering bandages and some disinfectant. She set these things on the bed next to Jim and paused to take a good look at the wound. Dust and blood in a deep cut, but at least the bleeding had stopped. Blythe smiled at Jim while she began dabbing his shoulder with a wet rag, "I take it you're Jim Younger, youngest of the James-Younger Gang?"

He winced slightly at the sting but quickly put it out of his mind. "Yeah... How'd you know?"

"The wanted posters are getting better and better, I've been following them. They sure don't do you justice, though," Blythe began applying the disinfectant.

"You wouldn't tell the sheriff about us being here, would you?" Jim looked at her then to his shoulder.

She laughed lightly, continuing to dab his shoulder, "Of course not, I regard the James-Younger Gang as heroes. I'm 'bout ready to faint, just treating a wound of Jim Younger himself. Everybody here feels the same," Blythe then began unrolling a roll of cloth bandage.

"I'll take your word for it, then..." He smiled at her, "Well, you may know my name but I sure don't know yours."

Blythe smiled again, this time slowly and gently wrapping the bandage across Jim's chest and back then over the shoulder wound, "I'm Blythe Capulet, my daddy owns this inn. Pleased to meet you, Jim!"

"Your pa owns the inn?" He raised his eyebrows in interest, "Then no wonder you work here! Normally, I don't see girls your age working as a waitress."

Blythe's expression turned flat and it was clear Jim had struck a nerve. "I am fifteen, you know. Ain't nothin' wrong with a fifteen-year-old workin' as a waitress..." She realized the rude tone she was taking and then tried to make up for it somehow, "I mean, y'know, no reason for a young woman to suffer age discretion."

Jim held his hands up in a defensive manner, chuckling a bit nervously. "I'm sorry... I really do know how it feels with age dis.creation..."

She made a face and chuckled with him, "Nah, nah, I'm sorry, you caught me gettin' all defensive. It's my nerve, y'know. I been treated like a lil' kid all my life,"

Blythe finally finished bandaging his wound and sealed the end. She took a seat next to Jim on the bed, "People judge you cause o' your age, Jim?" She looked confused and disbelieving at the same time.

"Yea'..." Jim frowned and glanced at the ground for a moment, "Always treatin' me like the baby of the gang. I jus' gotta prove to them that I'm old enough to do anything they can."

"Prove to them?" Blythe rubbed the bandage on his back, "That's one o' the deepest flesh wounds I've seen and you took it like it wasn't there."

"Ah, it was nuthin'..." Jim shrugged his shoulders, "Why, we all get shot at during one robbery or another. Guess it was my turn," He laughed a bit.

Blythe's face melted into daydreams, "What a life... robbin' banks, gettin' shot at, seeing your face all over Wanted posters..." She then stared at her lap, "I been locked up in this inn all my life. I couldn't imagine what fun it would be."

Jim frowned for a moment, thinking about what she said; "I have to admit... I'm having the time of my life but there's a lot of problems, too. Y'see... My brother, Cole, and my cousin, Jesse, argue a lot..."

"What is there to argue about? Loot shares?" She leaned forward, placed her elbows on her knees, and rested her head on her hands at a tilt so that she could still see Jim's face.

"Some of that... Cole's a bit temperamental and he always wants things done his way. But Jesse's got that leadership quality, y'know? Kinda fighting for who gets to make the decisions..."

"Fighting over decisions to decide who gets to make decisions? That makes sense..." She nodded slightly, "What decisions do they let you make?"

Jim let out a sarcastic laugh. "None of em', Blythe... None. Normally they just tell me to shut my mouth and not worry about it."

"Tell you to shut your mouth?" She drew herself to her full sitting height, "Why would they do that? They a bunch of fools?"

"In my position, my opinion don't count. But then again... I've grown used to it," Jim looked at her kindly before turning his attention to the open door, "Seems its quieted downstairs..."

"Shame. Darn shame," She shook her head, staring straight ahead, in thought. After a moment, her gaze returned to Jim, "You wanna go back downstairs? I, the doctor, hereby authorize you, the patient, to do so."

"Not a bad idea..." He rose to his feet and held his hand out to Blythe.

She nimbly placed her hand in his hand and rose with his assistance, lifting his shirt from the bed with her free hand, "Not that any of us would mind you walkin' 'round shirtless, but it gets cold."

Blythe laughed and skip-jogged out of the room teasingly, turning once to assure herself that Jim was following. Jim laughed nervously in his embarrassment before he slipped his shirt on again and followed after her.