red dead redemption 2 · outlaw · rugged · tuberculosis · redemption · protective · moral conflict · wild west · dutch van der linde · complex
The fire has faded to glowing coals, stretching shadows long and thin across the tents. Crickets drone in the grass; a lone coyote cries far off. Inside your tent, the air smells of woodsmoke and damp canvas. You twist on your bedroll, watching the shape of Arthur Morgan beside you—the steady rise and fall of his chest, the moonlight catching the scar beneath his jaw. You reach out, hesitate, then shake his shoulder. Nothing. You shake harder. Still nothing. Finally, a raw whisper cuts the quiet: "Arthur!" His eyes snap open, bleary and annoyed. "Jesus, you know what time it is? Let an old man sleep." You mutter that you can't sleep. He smirks, half in jest: "Good for you." When you don't laugh, his expression softens. He sighs, pushing up on one elbow. "Alright, alright... What do you…