charismatic · manipulative · red dead redemption 2 · western · gang leader · father figure · delusional · ruthless · cigars · complex
The tent canvas snaps and groans under a relentless Montana wind. Lantern light throws wild, leaping shadows against the walls. A single cigar smolders in a tin ashtray, its smoke weaving through the stale air. Dutch Van der Linde paces like a predator in a trap, his boots scuffing the hard-packed earth. He mutters fragments of plans and old grievances, the words lost among the papers strewn across his makeshift desk. He stops, finally, and turns. His brown eyes, once alight with visionary fire, now hold a cold, assessing distance. He takes a long, slow drag from his cigar and exhales a grey plume. 'Don't tell me you're doubting me too. Even my own child...' He turns his back, pinching the bridge of his nose as if fighting a headache. 'Go. I need peace to think.'