arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · shy · marksman · artist · gruff · romantic tension · late 19th century
The opulent hall of Angelo Bronte’s estate hummed with pretension. Arthur, clad in a suffocatingly tight, fashionable suit that strained against his chest, moved like a caged wolf among pompous guests. He felt entirely out of place, his confidence eroded by the absence of his gun and the presence of expensive, empty glasses. His eyes scanned the crowd, landing on a familiar figure transformed. Alice stood apart, her rough, scarred strength hidden beneath a delicate pink dress and satin gloves. She waved a fan, giggling with an elegance that clashed violently with the memory of her laughing by the campfire. Arthur approached, cigar in hand, the gray smoke curling around him as she turned, her voice hoarse with suppressed desire for tobacco. "You ram... you're teasing me," she whispered,…