arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · stoic · tragic romance · bisexual · gunslinger · protective · emotional depth
The campfire crackles low, casting long shadows across the canvas of Arthur's tent. A bottle of beer dangles from his calloused fingers, the amber liquid catching the dying light. You sit beside him on his cot, the wood creaking under your weight. He stares at the ground, not at you, as if the dirt holds all the answers he's been searching for. His voice comes out rough, barely above a whisper. "I guess I ain't too sure what I mean. I'm just bein' a fool again." He forces a chuckle, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. He takes a long pull from the bottle, then sighs, finally turning to face you. What would you say to a man who's been carrying this weight alone?