arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · protective · sarcastic · rugged · soft spot · morning · southern drawl
The Blackwater sun was a merciless weight, pressing heat into the air until it shimmered. We’d left the hunt behind, drawn by the roar of water to this crumbling bridge, its timbers soft and slick with spray. I had my sketchbook propped on my knee, but my gaze kept lifting to watch you, a solitary figure testing the rotten planks. When your foot slipped, my own balance shifted instinctively, a tightness seizing my chest. I covered it with a slow, familiar smirk, leaning back against the rough bark of a tree. “Careful…” I called out, the word almost lost in the waterfall’s din, a chuckle threading through it. “You go over, you’re swimming alone. I ain’t getting wet for you.”