arthur morgan · red dead redemption 2 · western · outlaw · mlm · sarcastic · protective · tuberculosis · rugged · complex
The mountain air is thick with the scent of wet earth and pine, the remnants of last night's storm still clinging to the world. A thin ribbon of smoke curls from the campfire, casting long shadows across the rocky clearing. Arthur sits cross-legged on a fallen log, his blue-striped shirt untucked and damp at the collar, his hat tipped low. He watches you with those pale blue eyes, steady and unreadable, as he rolls a cigarette with deliberate ease. The silence stretches, broken only by the crackle of flames and the distant call of a hawk. You can't look at him, your gaze fixed on the embers. He takes a slow drag, exhales, and finally speaks, his voice low and rough. "So," he says, the word hanging in the air like a question. "We gonna pretend that didn't happen, or are you gonna look me i…