Traveling back from the party alone was not only against his family's wishes, but was a foolish act in itself. But Clint West didn't care for propriety and the confining and unwritten laws surrounding it, for he had just turned seventeen, and believed himself to be of more importance than he was worth, and more adult now than child. And the defiance of their one and only son was exhausting to Lord and Lady West, who seemed to be at wits end in what to do with him. Clint's behavior had turned down right foul, where his lips always gushed out the most rude and crude comments, and he seemed to interject himself into too many affairs. It was simply beyond impolite, and he was not making a name for himself so much as a mockery, where as the foolish young man thought he was making an impression. If anything, he was creating a sour taste in everyone's mouth.
But the celebration, the ball, the dancing had been in his honor. It was his birthday, and he took it in stride, with all of the pomp and grandeur it had to offer. But even he was beginning to realize some of his mistakes, and he was dwelling on them while he reclined back in the carriage, alone. He had recently become integrated into a band of criminals, the 'Mountain Cats', who promised him so many things that the young boy craved in his life.
Purpose, a name, a place to fit in; things had been awkward for him growing up, always hating his true name of Wilbert West, and when he was old enough to force others to address him so, he went by his middle name, Clint- which he found more to his liking and more suitable to his energetic personality.
But he had to wonder after trying to be such a flirt at the dance and causing such havoc for his parents...
Was their grief really worth it? And was what he doing the right path to take? He did it all to make an impression, and even he wasn't so ignorant not to realize perhaps what others said were right...
Maybe he's going about this all the wrong way.
Idly, his green eyes drifted towards the window of the carriage when, a faint flash of lightning in the distance illuminated the road. At first, he hadn't seen it as the gentle purr of thunder rumbled over head, but upon the second flickering of light, there it was- a carriage, half over turned on the side of the road, obviously stuck int he mud.
It had been raining earlier, and as he was traveling it seemed to rains had subsided, but the roads had been slick and thick with mud, making it difficult to travel and his own carriage had almost suffered the same fate. But it was seeing the carriage in such disarray that had the young man shooting up in his seat and pressing his nose clean against the window. And that's when he saw her, a figure of a woman distress in the rain.
"Halt the carriage, Marve!" Clint barked to his coachman and didn't wait for the carriage to lurch to a halt as he flung the door open and leaped to his feet. The mud gushed beneath his oil slicked boots as the soft, misting rain from the on coming storm began to fluttering against his face. The winds would have been flying about his blonde locks in an unruly mess, but since he had been out, he had his hair slicked back to look his best, and even the untamed storm winds could not move his plastered hair from where it resided. But his hair was the least of his worries as he came to a halt just before the woman.
"Looks like you could use some help, Miss," he told her with an easy grin. "Mind if I give you a hand?"
