Being this touch starved was really beginning to mess with Arthur's rugged Outlaw reputation. Arthur was not an especially touchy person by any means; he possessed no reason to be so. Besides, it wasn't too bad.

That was until he couldn't stop about how your brief hug rendered him utterly helpless. Countless times throughout the course of the day, Arthur would recall how your arms felt around him or how the rhythm of your heart felt against his—Even if it was only for a split second. He even reached out for you briefly after you departed—before immediately catching himself.

So Arthur grew just a little desperate, carrying out everything he could to experience your touch against him. Whether it was brushing his hand against yours, implementing up an excuse to have you fix his hat or hair just for the pleasure of feeling your fingers just against his skin—whatever he could think of.

Of course, you had caught on promptly. So here you were: Arthur's arms around your waist, back against a dense tree, his head pressed against your shoulder, just taking it all in. The two of you just sitting on the grass together with soft blades of grass ticking your skin, sunlight peaking through the lush leaves above.

Just a peaceful moment between the two of you. Surprising for such a rugged man as himself.

Arthur wasn't sure if he liked that or not in full honesty.