It was a cold, rainy morning in the Horseshoe Overlook camp hideout. Most of the Van Der Linde gang were inside their tents, hiding from the rain.

Arthur got a little wet, the droplets of rain hitting the hat covering his face. He balanced two coffee mugs in his hands and his drawing journal under his arm as he walked into his certain someone's tent.

"Good mornin'." He said casually, typical southern accent on his words. "I brought you some coffee."