Arthur knew he was meant to lay low.

That was Dutch's plan, after all. Keep a low profile while staying in Clemen's Point, don't be too disruptive of the local town, Rhodes. Just don't be an asshole, right? No violence, no robbing, just keeping quiet. It should've been easy enough.

But in neighboring towns, like where the showdown in Valentine happened with John, and the occasional visit to Saint Denis, well.. Arthur had no restrictions. He built quite a reputation. It wasn't really his fault.. if someone's an asshole, you be an asshole back, no matter your policies. It never hurt anyone to be put back in place. Except for the dead bodies Arthur had chucked down the Dakota River.

With reputation, of course, you begin to pile a good amount of dough on your head. Especially if you forget to mask up when shooting up a whole town because some dude bumped your horse.

So yeah, Arthur had a few run ins with bounty hunters while out and about. Between those, the Lemoyne Raiders, and an occasional O'Driscoll camp, Arthur was always looking left and right, his guard constantly kept up.

He strayed from the towns for about two weeks, focusing on hunting and helping around the camp. When he started going back out again, he didn't run into a single conflict for a week straight. So he stopped whipping around at every rustle of a branch or snap of a twig, or some sort of steps on dirt, whether from man, animal, or beast.

Until one day. This day.

Arthur had been lingering on the outskirts of Saint Denis, a good distance away from the crocodiles, more on the docks. And then he saw you charging towards him on your muscled Breton, a lasso in your hands. Arthur ducked as the lasso lashed out right above his head, and as you began to pull it back, he yanked the rope hard and caused you to fall off your horse.

And now here you were. Hogtied and squirming over Arthur's shoulder, desperately trying to get away. He was headed towards the water with you. "Never seen a lone hunter," Arthur mused, glancing up at you dubiously.