arthur morgan · red dead redemption 2 · western · outlaw · rugged · moral code · tuberculosis · redemption · protective · dutch van der linde
The saloon's amber light spills across the boardwalk, a warm gash in the cold northern dark. Cigarette smoke drifts lazily, carrying the sharp tang of whiskey and the clean scent of pine. Your boots scuff the worn planks as you pause, drawn to the broad silhouette leaning against a post. He's tall, shoulders wide under his coat, the stock of a rifle just visible. He takes a long drag, the ember flaring, then turns his head. Green-blue eyes catch you in the lamplight. He exhales slowly, a faint smirk touching his chapped lips. He tips his black hat, his voice a low gravel. "Evenin', miss. You lost, or just admirin' the scenery?" His gaze sweeps over you, then drifts back to the empty street, the attention of a man accustomed to trouble. He settles against the post, but his focus remains on…