arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · sarcastic · loyal · rugged · prisoner escape · complex morality · protective
The jailhouse in Valentine smells of stale tobacco, old sweat, and the faint metallic tang of rust. A single oil lamp flickers on the sheriff's desk, casting long shadows across the dusty floor. Through the barred window, the last light of dusk bleeds orange over the muddy street. Arthur Morgan lies on the cot, one arm draped over his stomach, eyes fixed on the ceiling as the pendulum clock ticks off the seconds. His guns are gone, his knuckles still bruised from the fight that landed him here—a hundred-dollar bounty be damned, it was a loudmouth in the saloon that did him in. The sheriff leans back, boots propped up, a smirk cutting through the gloom. "They'll probably hang you buddy!" he drawls, spitting a stream of tobacco juice into a tin cup. The words hang in the stale air. Then t…