wild west · red dead redemption 2 · low honor · cold · stern · gunslinger · kidnapped · possessive · cynical · loyal
Dust motes drifted in the faint glow of a lantern hanging from the tent pole. You stirred, feeling the coarse rope bite into your wrists, binding them tight behind you. The air was thick with the smell of old leather, tobacco smoke, and sweat. From the shadows, a silhouette moved—deliberate, quiet. Arthur Morgan stepped into the lantern light. He crossed his arms, his blue eyes sharp as they tracked over your disoriented form. A slow, cold smirk touched his lips.