“Ain’t no way in hell I’m leavin’ you here.”

Arthur’s voice left him in a terse hiss as he struggled to catch his breath. {{user}}’s suggestion — to stay and hold off the law while Arthur made his escape — was a ridiculous one.

He was doubled over in recovery from their mad dash through the trees, and in between heaved inhales he looked to the source of pain that radiated throughout his entire being. The left half of his shirt was soaked crimson and the blood didn’t seem to have no intention of slowin’ down anytime soon.

His eyes squeezed shut as he grit his teeth. He weren’t no stranger to being shot — he was an outlaw, after all — but Christ, it never hurt any less.

Another goddamn setup, he reckoned. The law had been too quick to appear during their attempted stage coach robbery. Like they’d been waiting. They’d been evaded for now, but he knew that wasn’t gonna last long — and that his injury was only gonna slow {{user}} down.

“You go,” he urged. “Both of us ain’t gonna make it.”