Chapter Text
To be honest, you didn’t think you’d be waking up on some frozen ass mountain, in the middle of no where today. If anything, you’d thought you’d be waking up on your couch, chips decorating the floor; The title screen of that one cowboy game your friend lended you plastered on your living room TV.
However, here you were, on the ground, arms open wide and eyes being flooded with snow flakes that seem to obscure your view from everything. You blink away the snow, turning your head to the right to see a pistol laying in your hand. You sit up, letting the weapon drop softly into the thick snow beside you.
“What the fuck.. What the fuck??” You breath out quietly, whipping your head in different directions, trying to get a good look at where you were.
What happened to you? How did you even get here? Were you kidnapped? Taken from your living room and dropped off? Was the pistol in your hand a warning?
Oh god, were you kidnapped by some rich folk to be in some sick hunting game?
Your mind starts to spiral, and your gasping for air as you can feel panic crawling through your chest and up your throat as you let out a small whimper. You cling to yourself, and as you clutch the fabric on your arms you realize you’re not even in your own clothes.
You’re adorned in a heavily padded flannel jacket, with an ugly brown sweater just underneath it— and instead of the sweats you know you had on before, you now had on black jeans. Your hands are covered in some itchy black fabric, and glancing around you, you find a matching flannel hat. You laugh humorlessly, finding the situation so strange you couldn’t help yourself from the noise.
God you want to scream, to bury your face in your hands and weep, but you knew you couldn’t do that. For one, it was freezing just sitting here, and for two, there could be animals out here trying to hunt you down.
You get up slowly, the cold snow seeping through your jeans becoming too much to handle, along with the jarring new view and destination that came with it. You brush yourself off, not that there was much to brush, and glance down at the gun sitting in the snow.
I should probably bring it, you think to yourself, wringing your hands together. You are in the middle of a mountain with a huge dense forest on it. There’s probably hundreds of predators on this bitch; Bears, Wolves, probably wolverines.
You bend down and grab it quickly, and to your bewilderment, you notice a holster for it on your thigh. You put it where it belongs and place your hands on your hips.
Does this absolutely suck? Yes it does. Are you going to let yourself get killed by just sitting here though? Absolutely not.
You take a good look around once more, and realize slowly that this place looks oddly.. familiar. You’ve seen it before, you had to of. The feeling nags your brain, but for the life of you, you could not remember where you’ve seen this place.
Until, finally, it hits you— The cowboy game. That damn game your friend practically begged you to try playing. This place looks exactly like the beginning chapter, the one where that cowboy went missing for, like, two days. You start glancing around the area again, trying to remember if this was the spot you saw on your console.
But that’s crazy. You couldn’t possibly be stuck in a video game randomly? Perhaps this was a dream, after all you did fall asleep while playing it— At least, you think you had. So you pinch yourself, and the pain jolts you. The realization starts to sink in, along with slight panic, and you look around the area just one more time.
When you conclude that it was, in fact, the area, you freeze. You were really in a fucking video game: You. You stand frozen, trying to keep your mind from reeling any farther from you. You then begin trying to pinpoint if maybe you were close to where that guy was. If he’s still there, that means you can wait with him until he’s saved, and if he’s not—
Then there’d at least be tracks to follow, right? Being with other people would be the safest for you, and it’s even better if you already have an idea of who they are, and how they act. You needed to survive, now more than ever— This was not your world, nor your time.
You start your trek through the thick snow, doing your best to navigate with your shitty memory of the game’s geographic layout. You think you might be going the right way, though, when you have to walk straight through an icy cold river. The bite of the water soaking through your jeans just about makes you give up on the spot, fuck that cowboy. He gets saved anyways, let him stay there.
But you don’t quit however, needing the safety in numbers.
God, you really can’t believe it, to be honest. You, in Red Dead Redemption? You, a cowboy? It’s gotta be a dream, you have to be dreaming right now; but as the snow melts through your already soaked jeans, you realize you couldn’t kid yourself forever. Also, with the lingering sting of the harsh pinch you gave yourself, it was even larger wake up call.
Which begs the question, if you are actually in the game, how did it happen? Are you dead? You pause at the thought, an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach. You couldn’t say for sure, and the unknown is what really fucks you up. Not to mention, are you even still you? You’ve read enough isekei’s to know sometimes they just get thrown into someone else’s body. You decide if you ever get off this mountain, your first job is to find a mirror.
In the beginning of your search, before the devil river, you did find a satchel a good few paces from where you woke up. Nothing fancy was in it, a couple small bottles of alcohol and some canned goods, but nothing of importance, like a damn cellphone. Still, it was definitely good to have on you.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, you found your first clue of the missing cowboy; Blood. You follow the patches and drops, doing your best to not slip as some of the snow opens up to ice. Then, you find a dead horse. Seeing the limp animals makes your stomach lurch, so you do your best to just keep moving and not think about it.
Finally, you found him; Or really, you just found the landscape from the tutorial. However, thanks to remembering it, you didn’t slip down the massive hill of snow and fall to your death while you followed more of the blood.
“Hello?” You call out, walking extra carefully on the icy parts, “I saw some blood, is anyone there?”
The silence is absolutely deafening, and you think to yourself you might’ve just spawned to life a tad bit too late. You start to turn back around before a voice stops you in your tracks.
“Hello?” You hear someone call back. “I’m here! I’m down here!” Your heart starts pounding in your chest, adrenaline pouring into your veins knowing you actually managed to find him.
“Oh my gosh, stay there I’m coming down!”
You hear a humorless chuckle, “Trust me, I’m going no where..”
You set out down the huge mountain, and you start thinking to yourself, how the fuck did this man get as far as he did? With animals on his tail?
Main character buffs, it had to be.
The thought only becomes louder once you make it down, and stare up at the rocky cliff part of the mountain, noting how you have to climb them, before you could finally make it to the damn cowboy.
It was the most bullshit physical activity you ever had to do, and if by some miracle you and this cowboy got to know each other well, you were holding this shit over his head for life. You felt like you couldn’t breath by the time you made it up the cliffs, and you were so annoyed you wanted to just hit him in the damn head when you found him.
When you finally round the corner after catching your breath, you look down and choke on spit. It was actually the character from the game, solidifying you had somehow transported into the world of Red Dead Redemption 2.
He looks like shit, you notice instantly. He has gashes across his face, and a fucked up leg.. he had two massive black eyes, and at this point, probably has rabies. What was it that attacked him again? Wolves?
“Jesus, what happened to you?” You ask quietly, like you were trying to not startle a wild horse. It was a fake question, obviously; you knew what happened to him.
“Wolf attack, they got me pretty good, huh?” He chuckles, but ends up throwing himself into a coughing fit, “Sorry, do you have anything to drink?”
You nod quickly, hopping down and grabbing out a bottle of whiskey before wincing, “Oh, uh, well I have alcohol..?”
He reaches out greedily, you handing it over willingly and watching him demolish the liquid. He thanks you quietly, you only nodding and whipping out a can of peaches right after. You also found a knife in your magical satchel, so you’re quickly ripping open the lid.
You shove the can into his hands, “If you’re dehydrated, that whiskey is going to do nothing for you, this will give you at least some type of fluids.”
He takes it, scarfing down the fruit like he’d been starving for weeks. When he was done, he tosses the can to the side and rests his head on the cliff behind him. He looks at you, well he tries his best anyways, and says, “You shouldn’t have came over here without a weapon ready, I could’ve been a killer- That blood could’ve been a victims’.”
You nod, “Or you could’ve been a hurt stranger in need of some help.” You pat your thigh, where your gun laid snugly in its holster, “ And I have this bad boy on me, anyways.”
He looks up at it, “Still in its holster, I could’ve shot you before you even got it out.”
You scoff, kneeling down finally. You decide to brush him off and rummage through your bag. You don’t think twice when he goes silent, nor when your holster felt suspiciously light, until you hear a distinct click, and a cool metal pressed to the back of your neck.
You freeze, hands going numb and heart pounding in your chest.
“God this is such a strange way to say thank you.” You try to joke, hands going up slowly. “I gave you peaches and liquor you dick.”
“And I thank you, but you’re a little too kind for my liking— Don’t move.”
“I’m going to get shot for being too kind? Are you fucking joking?” you ask him, laughing at his stupid reasoning. You couldn’t even wrap your mind around the logic, “I saw blood and decided to check, sue me.”
“You have a real colorful way of talkin’, where are you from.” He asks, the cool barrel not moving an inch.
You don’t really remember the damn town names, and the towns you do kind of recall are way down the map. You don’t sound too southern, so you hesitate. You know he notices by the way he pushes the metal a little more into your neck, causing you to panic just a tad.
“I- Look, I’m not sure, okay? I don’t remember.” You lie, thinking it was better than announcing you were from a world where his pain was nothing but a plot point.
He laughs, “You think I buy that?”
“Of course not, but i’m telling the truth!”
“Sounds like an O’Driscoll excuse.”
“A what?!” You sputter, “Look dude, I was laying in the snow with no memories when I woke up today, I wish I could tell you who, or where, I’m from but I don’t remember.”
For a good moment, nothing happens. Neither of you speak, neither of you move from the other; hell, neither of you seem to be breathing at this point. You just sit there, hands up and hoping he doesn’t kill you. You start praying, actually praying to god, before he breaks the silence with a soft okay.
The metal leaves your neck, and you’re scurrying away from him quickly, grabbing the satchel along the way. You spin around, clutching your bag to your chest as you stare at him in distrustful anger. He ignores your actions, deciding to toss your gun back to you instead.
You grab it, almost frantic, and slide it into your holster, eyeing him in the process. Finally, after the panic settles you say to him, “Has anyone ever told you you’re a fucking dick?”
“I’ve heard it plenty, actually.” He retorts sarcastically, “How’d you know?”
“Oh you’re so funny, absolutely hilarious.” You spit back.
He laughs at your remark, once again coughing from the effort. The desire to give him something else to drink kicks in, but remembering you almost got shot for trying to help before quickly stomps that out. You wait for his breathing to go back to normal before you ask him, “How long have you been out here?”
He doesn’t respond right away, and you think he might be trying to remember, “A few hours.. probably?”
You nod, moving your bottom lip between your teeth in thought. You sigh, turning your body more towards him and keeping a hand on your pistol just in case. “Look, if you promise not to kill me, will you let me help you get to somewhere safe?”
He eyes you suspiciously, doing his best to adjust how he’s sitting, “Why are you trying so hard to help me?”
“I’m doing this more for myself really,” you start, wringing your hands together anxiously. You don’t really know how to approach the topic of his camp without seeming even more suspicious to him, so you do your best to keep the details to yourself, “You were just found by someone, but instead of begging them to get help, you’re acting like you’d rather them leave.” You gauge his reaction before continuing, “You’re out here with others, aren’t you?”
He says nothing, and you grow impatient at the silence.
“Are you waiting for them to find you, instead?” You finally ask, and he’s suddenly glaring at you, and you know you hit the nail on the head.
You continue hurriedly, “I don’t know why I’m out here, I have no idea where I’m from or where I’m supposed to go.” You pause, hands tightening around each other, “If I help you to your friends, I want you to try and convince them to let me stay too.”
You watch him close his eyes with a frustrated sigh, like he was trying to shut you out. You try one more time, allowing your voice to wobble as you say softly, “Please, I don’t want to be alone out here.”
He groans, throwing his head back in defeat as he yells out a gruff fine. You smile at him excitedly, picking yourself up off the ice and making yourself over to him. You kneel down beside him, putting his arm over your shoulder and telling him to count to three. When you both finally say the number, you do your best to lift him up, as he does his best to use his good leg to stand.
It takes a minute, and few close calls of slipping, but he’s finally standing. You can tell he’s putting most of his weight on his only good leg though, and you frown at him.
“You need to lean onto me or neither of us are moving.”
He doesn’t respond, standing in silence before finally doing what you ask. You let out a strained grunt, not realizing he was actually doing you a favor with how heavy he got. You grunt out a small thank you, and you slowly start to make your way out towards the snowy hills.
It takes a while though, considering you’re doing your best not to slip, and he’s doing his best not to crush you. There’s the huge hill that you both have struggle up, but before that, the damn little cliffs.
It was a fucking nightmare.
He was telling you where to not step, and where to crouch, as if you were playing the tutorial back in your living room. It felt kind of strange, considering you weren’t the protagonist in anyway. Yet, it was also extremely helpful too.
While on the way, you do your best to get him to open up to you. You ask him for his name, and he does tell you, but only after five minutes of nothing but silence and the crunch of snow under your feet. It was John Marston, and you quickly remember your friend talking about him being the protagonist of the first game when you found him while playing. You didn’t know him really, having skipped the first game and went straight to the second.
He tells you he has a kid, though he’s convinced he isn’t his. He even spoke about some of the people at his camp, after what feels like hours of you two warming up to each other— There was Dutch, the leader. Then there was the tracker, a guy named Charles, and apparently an asshole of the group, Micah. There were more, of course, but the person he spoke about the most was Arthur, and the name stuck out.
Arthur.. He was the protagonist of this game, right? He was the guy you started out as?
He spoke about how the two of them butt heads a lot, and that when he gets back he was never going to hear the end of it. You only laugh, slightly out of breath from practically dragging John through the snow. Your toes are numb, and each step starts to become painful, but you say nothing. After all, you don’t have a cut up face and messed up leg.
“Hey, I think we’re close.” John says excitedly, pointing straight out. “I can see the river.”
“God I hope so, you’re heavy as shit.” You gasp out, looking at where he’s pointing. “Will they be able to treat you alright?”
He nods, “Yeah, we have a few medical kits—“
His sentence is cut short by a loud, ear piercing howl. One howl becomes two, then three. You’re looking around quickly, holding John’s arm tightly as you finally spot four massive wolves on top of a hill to your left. John spots them too, as he’s patting his belt before he curses quickly.
“Give me your gun.” He orders, hand open and eyes never leaving the canines. You go to oblige but the wolves howl again, and your quickly shaking your head.
“You’re injured, you can’t shoot them, can you? Can you shoot sitting?”
“No, you’ll need to hold me up.”
“You’re too heavy I won’t be able to hold you up while you’re shooting! Not to mention if they decide to attack from the back, we can’t turn around!” You hiss, heart racing.
The wolves are now slowly making their way down, and suddenly it’s hitting you. Him telling you how to move around, and now there’s enemies? This is the tutorial. You accidentally started the it by saving him, and now you’re going to fucking die because of it.
You’ve never shot a gun before, does the game expect you to be able to do so?
“Put me down, you’ll have to shoot them for us.” John says suddenly, unknowingly confirming your suspicions.
You shake your head at him, “No, No i’ve never shot a gun before!”
“You haven’t or you just can’t remember?” He asks, looking down at you. You curse silently, forgetting you told him you had no Memories.
“No I- I definitely feel like I’ve never shot a gun before.” You say quickly, trying to save your lie.
He says your name and you’re suddenly frozen, looking up at him, confused.
You never told him your name, so how..?
“Your name is on your gun, I saw it etched on the side when I took it from you— You’ve definitely must’ve shot a gun before.”
He sounds so sure of himself you just nod, slowly putting him down in the snow. You grab your pistol and hold it up to your face, moving it around and coming across your name. Like he said, it was etched into the metal. It feels so natural in your hand too, and it frightens you.
You know for a fact you’ve never shot a gun before, but you’re loading it and cocking it like it’s the most natural thing for you to do. Just as you’re ready, the wolves speed at you as if they were waiting. You point the gun at the closest wolf’s head, and shoot.
To some fucking miracle, it was dead on. The wolf drops, body limp as the once white snow turns red. You would feel excited, if it weren’t for the other three wolves still charging at you. You point at the next wolf, ready to shoot, until suddenly, the world actually slows down. Your view turns into a coppery gold and targets pop up on the three wolves heads.
Dead eye. You actually have dead eye.
You’re quickly sending bullets out, watching them move through the air slowly. When the third bullet leaves the barrel, the world goes back to normal, and you watch as each wolf gets hit in the head, and drops, rolling through the snow. You’re breathing quickly, whipping your head to look over at John in dismay.
His eyes are blown wide, mouth open in what you think might be a mix of shock and a bit of admiration. He looks back at you, and cracks a small smile, “I knew you’ve shot a gun before, felt it in my gut.”
You laugh, putting your gun away and sliding John’s arm back over your shoulder. “Next time you have a gut feeling, let me know about it.”
“I’ll do my best.” He answers, helping you lift him up. Both of you grunt loudly at the effort, and you adjust yourselves to start walking again.
You don’t get too far, considering as you start your trek back up you see two horses in the distance, riding towards you. You turn to see John squinting at the figures, before his face breaks into a smile, and he’s waving his free arm around excitedly.
“Over here! Guys, Here!” He yells out to them loudly. You flinch your head away from his voice, and when he notices he gives you a soft sorry.
You only shake your head, dismissing his apology.
The horses get closer, before they are suddenly right in front of you. You and John stumble back a bit, you doing your best not to let him get hit. The two riders hop down quickly, one of them more in a hurry to get over to the two of you than the other. The man in the black jacket was kissed by the sun, with beautiful brown skin and a silky black ponytail. He reaches you first, quickly taking John from your arms with a smile.
He doesn’t even acknowledge you, and to be honest, you were quite alright with that.
“You’re not dead!” He says happily, holding John’s weight way better than you had been. “Abigail has been freaking out over you, you’ve been missing for two days, brother.”
“Two days? John you said a few hours-“ you quickly clamp your mouth shut as you watch all three of the men’s eyes turn towards you in unison. It freaks you out, having all of them finally notice your presence.
“Sure, it’s been a few hours.” The man in the blue coat finally pipes up, the bottom of his face obscured from your view. “48 of them.”
He’s turning to the two other men now, specifically John as he says, “You decided to make your woman worry to go missing with another woman?”
John let’s out an indignant noise, pointing his finger in the guy with the blue coat’s face, “I did not run off with another woman, she found me!”
“She just happened to find you?” His deep voice was filled with disbelief, and it actually caused your anger to spike a bit.
“Yes, I did.”
This must be Micah, the asshole of their little gang. You cross your arms, watching as the man turns back to you and does the same. You’re both staring at each other in some silent stand off before, finally, the nicer man asks, “..So, who are you?”
You give the blue coat man a final glare before turning towards the other and giving him your name. You give him the run down of what happened when you woke up, leaving a few key details out, and how you found John. You also tell them you have amnesia, John thankfully backing you up on your unbeknownst lie.
The blue coat guy still seemed unconvinced, but at this point you couldn’t seem to care.
“I see, well I’m Javier, Thank you for bringing John back.” Javier gives you a smile, before reaching out his hand. You take it, both of you shaking the others. He lets go, gesturing to the man beside him and says, “This is Arthur, he’s a little rough around the edges, but don’t worry about it.”
Oh.
So he wasn’t Micah.
Of course he wasn’t, you think to yourself. When you began the game as Arthur, he had a blue coat. What does the guy you decided to snap at have? A blue coat.
You try to hide the recognition in your eyes, and to seem unaffected by the sudden introduction. You cross your arms again, giving Arthur a small nod, but nothing after that. He doesn’t even do that, only trailing his blue eyes over your form before they stop at your thigh. You also look down at your limb, and see he’s looking straight at your gun.
You look back up at him, “I swear to god if you take my gun and use it against me, I will fucking lose it.”
Finally his stoic face, or the upper half of it, turns into something like bewilderment, “What?” He asks you, his gruff voice seeming to go up an octave, caught off guard.
John’s laugh breaks the slight tension, “That was me. I took her gun when I first met her.”
“You had it to my neck, dude.” You whine.
“Dude?” Javier asks suddenly, looking over at John, like he has the answer.
“Ah, yeah she says weird phrases, sometimes.”
You shrug, not really knowing what else to tell them. You shiver, the wind whipping a cool breeze towards the four of you suddenly. You rub your arms, ignoring Arthur all together as you address Javier, the nicer of the two.
“Do you think you guys could accept a new recruit..? I’m not bad at cooking.”
“Or shooting.” John pipes up, keeping his part of the deal. Your chest warms, glad he’s not, quite literally, throwing you to the wolves. “She took down a whole pack of dogs back there, each shot right to the head.”
“We thought we heard some gunshots.” Javier pipes up, nodding slowly. He looks over at Arthur, “What do you think?”
“It don’t matter what I think,” He says, turning around and hopping up on his horse, “It’s all up to Dutch.”
You look at John, who sends you a thumbs up.
“Can I meet him?” You ask.
Arthur says nothing, only walking his horse closer to you and reaching a hand out. You look at it, then at him. His eyebrow twitches you notice, like he’s doing his best to keep his face as emotionless as possible. You slowly take it, and he’s lifting you up with such ease it makes you squeal. You think you hear a chuckle, only slightly, as you’re practically thrown onto his horse. You adjust yourself quickly, grabbing onto the sides of his saddle.
“You’re not going to want to hold onto that.” He says, looking behind himself. You give him a quizzical look in return.
“What do I hold onto then?”
Arthur taps one of his sides, and your face flushes.
Duh, obviously, like you’re on a motorcycle.
You slowly wrap your arms around him, but loosely. You hold your face away from his back, but Arthur doesn’t say anything about it. You look over at the other two, John already on the back of Javier’s horse, no thanks to the man in front of you. Once Javier is on his own horse, you four head out for Camp.
Thankfully it doesn’t even take that long, John being right about how you two were close to his camp. You’re thankful, as you watch the horse run through the river, that you weren’t the one struggling through the water again.
It was a nightmare in and of it’s self, thank god you only had to do it once.
When the two horses finally run into the camp, Javier is announcing to everyone that they found John, and to grab a medical kit as quickly as possible. People are running out from houses, and into houses, and even up to the horses. Some of the other men are already taking John off the horse before it had completely stopped, and you wave at John as he’s carried away into a house.
He doesn’t wave back, but he was obviously busy trying not to die on the way to the cabin, so it doesn’t bother you.
A woman comes running out of another home, and running straight into the house John just entered. Abigail, you think. That definitely must’ve been Abigail. Too busy in thought, and people watching, you don’t realize Arthur has been waiting for you take his hand again to get off the horse. Probably fed up with you ignoring him, he’s grabbing your waist and once again lifting you up, and away from the horse. You gasp, hands clutching his shoulders for stability. When he sets you down, you let him go, like his coat had burned you.
“A warning, perhaps!” You hiss.
“I was standing here for about five minutes trying to help you off the damn horse already, what kind of warning did you need?” He hisses back.
You guys were already bonding so well it seems. You both, again, just silently stare at each other, until an older man with slicked back curls walk over to the two of you.
“Arthur!” The man practically sings, arms open wide as he walks closer. “I see you brought home a woman, I’m so proud of you, son.”
“Dutch,” Arthur acknowledges, albeit a little annoyed sounding. He gestures towards you with a nod, “This little lady is looking for a place here.”
The man— Dutch, hums in thought, giving you a once over. He must not find you very alarming, or even threatening, as he gives you a surprisingly handsome smile. “How do you feel about loyalty, Miss..?”
You give him your last name, and he finishes his sentence with it. You only shrug, “I find it very important.”
He nods, agreeing with you. He walks over to you and throws an arm around your shoulders, “And how do you feel about people who break that loyalty?”
You glance at Arthur, who you find is already staring at you. You look back over at Dutch quickly, “They should be dealt with accordingly, sir..?”
Dutch pats your shoulder approvingly, “Right, exactly!” He lets you go and walks over to Arthur, now giving his broad shoulders a pat, “She can stay, show her the women’s cabin and then come meet me back at mine.”
“Why do I have to show her, I brought her here.” He argues.
“Exactly, now be a gentlemen and show the woman you brought to camp her damn cabin.” Dutch scolds in return, although jokingly.
Arthur growls under his breath, looking at you and then cocking his head to the right, wanting you to follow him. You wave back at Dutch, who returns your friendly gesture and then follow Arthur. The walk to the cabin is silent, you not knowing what to say to the guy, and him probably not wanting to even speak to you.
You guys did get off on the wrong foot you feel, so you guess you could start there.
You move to the side of him, instead of just following behind. He doesn’t even look at you as you do so. You clear your throat, trying to seem nonchalant, “Arthur..?”
He looks over at you finally, and you start fiddling with your hands, “I’m sorry— for uh, snapping. At you.” You struggle out, cheeks burning as you look at the ground.
Somehow you can feel his damn eyes on you, watching how you act. You look everywhere but at him after you apologize, and you finally hear a breathy chuckle.
“You don’t need to waste an apology on me, I didn’t mean to offend you back there.”
You let out a sigh of relief, clutching a hand to your chest. You finally hold your hand out towards him, and he eyes it with a raised brow. You smile, urging him to take your hand. He does, though slowly, and you shake it. You finally introduce yourself to him and you think he gives a small smile, also introducing himself. You nod in satisfaction, glad you seemed to smooth over the past interaction.
Or so you thought.
When you finally make it to the cabin, he knocks twice before you hear someone yell, It’s open! He waits just a few more seconds before pushing the door open.
“Evenin’ Ladies,” Arthur greets, tipping his hat towards the women. He moves over to the side, basically presenting you to the others as he gives them your name. “Dutch says she’ll be staying with us, try and be nice.”
Some of the ladies are sending out flirtatious of course’s and we’re always nice, Mr. Morgan! Before he’s turning away from them and heading towards the door. You don’t know what made you grab the sleeve of his jacket, but you do and he’s stopping at the doorknob. The women hush down as they watch the interaction, but you hardly notice as Arthur looks back at you.
“Need somethin’?” He asks you, and you’re shaking your head. He looks down at the hand holding him in the cabin before he’s asking again, “Are ya sure..?”
You let go finally, face red. You nod, and wave his question away, “Yeah! Yeah, no I’m okay. Just— uh, Thank you.”
He looks back at the women who were watching the two of you intently, before he leans in closer to your ear and lowers his voice, probably so the other ladies wouldn’t hear him, “Don’t thank me just yet, I will shoot you if you do anything to put this camp in danger.” He hisses into your ear.
You rip yourself away from him, glaring up as you scoff from the threat. You thought you smoothed things over with him, but he clearly did not trust you. How fucking irritating it was, not knowing what else you could say to him to prove you weren’t a danger to their camp, or their people.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Morgan.” You hiss lowly back, anger flaring in your chest, “I’m not the one you should be worried about.”
He eyes you, looking confused by your ominous words. He puts his hands up, like he was trying to show he wasn’t a threat to you in the moment. He says his goodbyes to the women, tilting his hat to them and making his way to the door. He glances at you before he leaves, you waving at him almost sarcastically. He rolls his eyes, finally leaving the freezing cabin. The air is still, and you slowly spin around to find all eyes on you.
“Hello..” You say softly, now giving them their own wave.
“Oh, of course Dutch allowed you to stay.” A blonde woman finally breaks their silence, placing the scarf she was knitting down into her lap.
You tilt your head, not really expecting that to be your first welcoming sentence. You blink at the blonde, “What do you mean..?”
”I mean, how often do you run into a pair of tits in the wilderness, y’know what I mean?” She clarifies, her tone having a hint of humor to it.
”Karen!” a woman hisses to her left, swatting her leg as to shush her. She then looks at you, giving an apologetic smile, “Don’t mind her, she has no manners. I’m sure Dutch was more than willing to keep you because you brought back John.”
“And because she’s a woman.” Karen tries again, the other woman sending her a disappointed scowl at her words.
You stare at the two, not really sure what you’re supposed to say in that moment. You do let out a small laugh though, the idea of Dutch letting you stay so easily because you had a pair of breasts was actually pretty funny to you— And strangely in character.
“Regardless of why I can stay, I’m grateful either way.”
“I thought Arthur was acting pretty sweet too,” another woman pipes up, a romance looking book being set down in her lap, a finger holding her place. “Getting all close to her and everything.”
Sweet? Sweet? He had hardly done anything, except show you to the cabin. Then, when you got to the cabin he threatened to shoot you— Hell, before that even, you guys were bickering and close to a fist fight. Your face must have shown your thoughts, because she then adds, “It’s just a thought..”
“Ladies, ladies! Pipe down, we have things we must be doing.” An older woman bellows through the cabin, all three woman quieting instantly. “We can discuss Dutch’s weakness for women a different time.”
The ladies chuckle, and you stand there, out of place and confused.