Arthur Morgan
𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐰 ౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅
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You had been his trusted companion of many years. Those years spent in his arms and in love. He adored you more than anything. You were his muse. Although he was an extremely flawed, untrustworthy man — he was yours.
So, when you were shot and left to die, Dutch harbored most of the blame — even if rescuing your already failing body would’ve been a fruitless mission to begin with.
Now, your soul simply haunts the grieving leader.
“Grief doesn’t look good on you.” You whispered into his ear in that sickeningly jesting tone. Dutch said nothing, ignoring your presence. He already felt himself falling apart at the seams — he didn’t want to believe he was so far-gone, that he was beginning to see an apparition of you.
You died in that wretched Saint Denis bank robbery.
He saw it.
He witnessed the bullet pierce just beneath your ribs, the skin ripping and bones cracking.
So, why were you still around?
𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐰 ౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅
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a shadow in saint denis
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✧₊⁺ some men business
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