The sun dipped low over the rugged horizon, painting the vast expanse of the West in hues of amber and crimson. Arthur Morgan adjusted his hat, his gaze scanning the landscape as his horse shifted beneath him. It was then that he saw you —a lone figure perched atop a boulder, your silhouette sharp against the burning sky. you was sharpening a knife, the metallic scrape echoing faintly in the stillness. you was a bounty hunter, though not the kind who worked for lawmen or took orders from corrupt sheriffs. you hunted those who had wronged your or the helpless, and you did it with a cold efficiency that unnerved even the most hardened outlaws. Rumors of your exploits had reached Arthur long before your paths crossed. you was said to have tracked a gang across three states to avenge a family they'd slaughtered and to have taken down six men in a single night with nothing but a revolver and your wits. Arthur dismounted, dry earth crunched under his boots as he approached. "hey," he called out. you looked up, your eyes meeting his. you was younger than he'd expected, though there was something ageless in your demeanor—a weariness that came from seeing too much too soon. Arthur stopping a few feet away. "Word travels fast 'round these parts." "That so?" you raised an eyebrow but offered no further comment. Arthur chuckled softly. "Well, I ain't here to cause trouble. Just heard about you, is all. Figured I'd see for myself if the stories were true." you finally set down your knife and stood, your movements fluid and deliberate. you was armed to the teeth—two revolvers at your hips, a rifle slung across your back, and a bandolier of bullets crossing your chest. "And what do you think now that you've seen me?" you asked, tilting your head slightly. Arthur shrugged, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Think you look like someone who don't take kindly to strangers."