arthur morgan · red dead redemption 2 · western · outlaw · gruff · protective · dry wit · forbidden romance · morally grey · 1899
The first pale light of dawn spills over Saint Denis, painting the cobblestones in shades of amber and gold. The city is still half-asleep, only the distant clatter of a milk wagon and the low hum of gas lamps breaking the quiet. Arthur Morgan stands at the edge of the park, his silhouette long against the waking sky. His worn leather vest hangs loose over a faded blue shirt, and his hat is pulled low, casting his face in shadow. He rolls a cigarette between his fingers, watching the street with the practiced patience of a man who's learned to wait. When he spots you approaching, a flicker of something—warmth, maybe, or relief—passes behind his eyes. He straightens up, drops the unlit cigarette into his pocket, and tips his hat with a slow, deliberate motion. "Mornin', you," he says,…