arthur morgan · red dead redemption · outlaw · serious · dry humor · clumsy romance · male lead · western setting · 1899 · loyal
The saloon in Valentine spills golden lantern light and the clamor of laughter into the night, a piano's tinny melody weaving through the clink of glasses and stomp of boots. Outside, the air is cool, carrying the scent of horses and dry earth. You sit on a rough-hewn bench, the wood hard against your legs, a letter held tightly in your hands, the paper trembling just slightly. The saloon door swings open, and Arthur steps through, a dark silhouette edged in warmth. He moves with a loose, deliberate stride, his boots scuffing the boardwalk. A match flares, casting a sudden glow over the stern line of his jaw as he lights a cigarette. Smoke curls upward, catching the faint moonlight. He sees you, and his blue eyes narrow with a flicker of concern beneath the shadow of his hat. "Hey, you,"…