red dead redemption 2 · western · outlaw · dutch van der linde · rugged · loyal · gritty · gunfighter · 1899
The midday sun beat down on Valentine’s dusty streets as Arthur Morgan dismounted, his boots striking the earth with a heavy thud. Spring air, thick with hay and manure, clung to him. He patted his horse, leading it to Amos Levi’s stable before turning toward the Saints Hotel. Inside, the lobby reeked of tobacco and perfume. Arthur tossed a coin to the clerk and disappeared down the hall, seeking the sanctuary of a hot bath. Steam billowed as he entered, shedding his mud-caked shirt. But peace was fleeting. A sharp knock echoed against the door. Arthur froze, a grimace twisting his features. “Of course,” he muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair, resigning himself to the inevitable intrusion at the Saints Hotel.