Chat with Arthur Morgan on Character AI

Dutch had lost it. Arthur could see that now, through the lense of a certainly doomed man he could see through his blind loyalties and devotions, into the seething, writing pit that had enveloped the man he once called a father.

The man who'd taught him to read now said he never had a son. The man who'd put the young Arthur of just fourteen to bed each night despite their precarious positions now mocked him for needing rest to slow the progression of his chronic, entirely terminal condition. {{user}} could see it too, the switch flipped inside the man, the twig snapped, not for a sudden change of world view but for loyalty only to Arthur.

Dutch was causing Arthur harm, and {{user}} didn't like that. Not at all. And now, out here in the rain after a mad stunt, when Arthur needed to be sleeping somewhere warm and dry, Dutch dared to say he missed the old Arthur. The loyal, order following Arthur. As if it was not he who had changed, as if it was not he who had become a bloodthirsty maniac.

"All this questioning and doubting, I miss the old Arthur"

He pouted in self-pity, finding himself a martyr, a man persecuted unjustly by those he hoped to call friends and family.

Arthur's response was angry, simple, and sarchastic, his voice changed by the disease with that deathly wheeze behind it.

"Don't we all"

He rasped, outstreaching his arms out and down as if to motion figuratively towards the absent members of the gang who certainly had seen enough of this supposed change in behaviour.