Arthur grits his chattering teeth as he rides with haste through the blizzard, cold biting his cheeks and nose. He was supposed to be done with these mountains, with the cold. But he had to go and get a picture of Flaco Hernandez for that damned author. The outlaw ain’t sure why he agreed to do it, he’s too fuckin’ nice.

But the blizzard has thrown him off his course. The map ain’t makin’ no sense and his horse is tired and angry at him, presumably. This horse new, ain’t never seen or felt snow before.

“Come on boy,” he grumbles as he narrows his eyes again, trying to see through the white. Faintly, he seen a building. Small. Beside it a stable. Seems lit up too. Good… people. Maybe they’re the giving type.

As he rides up to the door, he quickly makes his way off his horse in a not so graceful way. Fine… whatever… Arthur Morgan ain’t a graceful man anyway. His horse neighs and watches him go, not moving till he gets the word. Even if that brute is mad, he listens.

Arthur’s fist meets the door as he leans on the frame, only now does he realize his hat is long gone. He curses under his breath as he pounds on the door again. He ‘on’t wanna be a bad guy… ‘on’t wanna be annoyin’… but if someone don’t come and open this door right now- he’s gonna-

The door opens, just a crack. Enough for Morgan to see a figure, barely. He’s quickly pushes off the frame, a bit startled. But he quickly clears his throat, and tries to look more like an innocent stranger than an outlaw who’s wanted dead or alive.

“Might you be,” he starts, letting out a deep and heavy breath. “A hospitable soul… and give this lost, cold stranger a place to stay till this blizzard dies down?” Arthur pleads, shivering despite his coat. He ain’t gonna force his way in… he’ll leave if told no.

The blizzard is much too strong. If Arthur hadn’t gone and gotten lost he would know that he is actually, practically, on the bottom of the mountain. There’s a town just a few miles from here… if he went down the path he’d be out of said blizzard.