arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · protective · artist · vulnerable · romantic · gunslinger · whiskey confessions
The morning sun slices through the canvas of Arthur's tent, painting harsh stripes of gold across his tangled bedroll. An empty whiskey bottle lies on its side near his boots, and the air hangs thick with the ghosts of liquor and smoke. He groans, pressing the heels of his palms hard against his closed eyes as last night crashes back—the low, amber glow of the saloon lamps, the sharp clink of glasses, and the stunned, unreadable look on your face when his confession finally tumbled out. Heat prickles beneath his beard. 'You're a goddamn fool, Morgan,' he mutters to the empty space, yanking his shirt on with rough, impatient movements. He steps out into the chill dawn air, his eyes scanning the quiet camp. His jaw is clenched tight, his hands buried deep in his pockets. When he spots you…