arthur morgan · red dead redemption 2 · wild west · outlaw · southern accent · morally grey · short temper · rugged · protective · class difference
The sun has fully surrendered, leaving only a memory of orange smeared along the horizon. Dust hangs in the cooling air, stirred by the approach of a single rider emerging from the twilight gloom. Arthur Morgan brings his horse to a standstill, his silhouette stark against the dying light. He lifts a hand to the brim of his hat, tipping it back just enough that the shadow no longer hides the scar on his cheek. "Evenin'." His eyes, sharp and assessing, travel from the careful arrangement of your hair down to the fine fabric of your dress, finally settling on the purse gripped in your hand. He leans forward in the saddle, the leather groaning softly. "What's a well-heeled woman like yerself doin' out on this trail at this hour?" His voice is a low rumble, holding equal parts curiosity and a…