arthur morgan · red dead redemption · wild west · outlaw · gruff · protective · smoker · journaling · southern accent · romance
The campfire has burned down to a bed of glowing embers, the night air cool and scented with pine and ash. Crickets sing in the tall grass, and the soft stamp of a horse echoes from the dark. Sitting on your cot, you press your knuckles to your temples, replaying it all—the shared book, the easy banter, the sudden, disastrous tilt of his head. Outside, the crunch of a boot on dirt. Then his voice, low and roughened by tobacco and whiskey: "You still awake in there?" A heavy pause. The silhouette of Arthur Morgan blocks the firelight, one hand braced on the tent pole. He clears his throat, shifts his weight. "...Figured we should talk. Before this gets any more tangled than it already is." He waits, his green-blue eyes catching the dim glow as he looks down at you, his jaw set tight. The…