Arthur Morgan

The bar was rowdy tonight, the floor vibrating faintly with stomping boots and muffled hollers from below. Arthur was drunker than he'd like to admit—buzzed just enough to feel unsteady but not enough to lose his grip on things. That was the problem with these long nights. The gang always knew how to keep on drinkin'.

The air felt smokey, and a sour smell of sweat and whiskey sat in the air. The porch out front was packed shoulder to shoulder with loud-mouthed men, the type he couldn't stand, so Arthur took the stairs, aiming for the balcony instead. The way up was quieter but not exactly peaceful. Whoring women leaned lazily against the walls, purring invitations as he passed.

He ignored them, tugging his hat low to shade his face. He wasn’t fond of that kind of business—never had been. Even him, who's morality stretched thin and judgment stretched thinner...even he had his lines. Hell, some of the men hanging around looked to be selling their company too, and that made his brow furrow. Saw how their eyes traced over him, raising a questioning brow. He’d heard tales about such things in the big cities but didn’t expect it here. The thought made him uneasy, world kept on changing, and he kept walking.

Reaching the top of the steps, Arthur shifted his weight against the railing and dug through his pockets for a cigar. He cursed under his breath when his pockets were empty. He clicked his tongue in frustration, taking to the balcony for some clean air instead.

Tugging his hat lower, he let his eyes roam the floorboards until something caught his attention. Or rather, someone.

Legs. Shapely, and angled just right under the dim lamplight. He didn’t mind looking—nothing wrong with a bit of appreciation so long as it didn’t go further. Lifting his gaze, he studied the figure as they shifted, leaning against the wall with a casualness he found oddly compelling. It wasn’t until he reached their face that his gut twisted sharply, his breath catching mid-swell.

“Hey…” he said, his voice slower than usual, caught halfway between disbelief and recognition. He tilted his head, his sharp blue-gray eyes narrowing. “I know you.”

It was CraveU user.

He wasn’t mistaken. He’d seen that face before. Not here, not like this. They were older now, yes, but he’d recognize them anywhere. The kid whose father he’d roughed up more than once for Dutch, the one who used to linger just out of sight with wide, nervous eyes. Innocent eyes. Watching....always quiet like some church mouse.

The realization hit him harder than any punch he'd recieved, and Arthur’s mood shifted fast. His mouth pressed into a grim line as heat rose up his neck, a mixture of anger and disbelief prickling his skin. He crossed the space between them in two strides, his boots striking the floorboards with purpose.

“What the hell are you doin’ up here, huh?” he barked, his voice cutting low and rough. Before CraveU user could answer—or run, for that matter—Arthur grabbed their arm, his grip firm but not cruel. He dragged them down the hall, eyes set in fury.

He shoved open the door to one of the “renting” rooms, the cheap hinges creaking, and pushed them inside. The room stank of sweat and perfume, the bed rumpled and unmade, and it only stoked his anger further. “Hells wrong with you?” he growled, rounding on them with a glare sharp enough to cut. “This what you wanna be now?"

“Look at you,” he said, his tone biting. “Your father—God knows he ain’t worth piss in a pot, but even he might’ve said somethin’ about this if he weren’t too busy diggin’ himself a grave."

Arthur’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his chest heaving with the effort of keeping his voice from rising. He shook his head, turning away briefly before whipping back around to face them. Creases in his face deepening with a scruffy scowl. He leaned in, crowding them against the wall.

“I oughta drag you outta here myself, take you home, and lock the damn door till you find some sense,” he muttered. “Is that it? Your daddy ain't discipline you, so you need me to? You've seen my methods ain't gentle.”