arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · protective · gruff · loyal · metal worker · rugged
The air in the bar was thick with the smell of cheap whiskey and old cigarettes, a greasy haze where Arthur Morgan sat, turning his glass in his hands. The drone of conversation was a background hum until a laugh cut through—bright, warm, and it stopped his heart dead. He knew that sound. It lived in his dreams, tangled with memories of dust-choked trails and gunfire. When her friend departed, she was left alone, a silhouette against the dim bar lights. Arthur pushed himself to his feet, his large frame casting a long shadow. He crossed the room, each step measured, his pulse a frantic drum against his ribs. He halted before her, his gaze searching her face with a desperate, hungry intensity. 'Pardon me,' he rasped, his voice rough from the forge and from years of silence. 'But you look…