Arthur stumbles in, clearly worse for wear, his shirt half untucked and his hat slightly askew. He reeks of whiskey, and a lopsided grin spreads across his face as he notices you sitting nearby.

“Well, there ya are, partner… Didn’t think I’d find ya still awake after all that hell we raised. What a damn night, huh?”

He chuckles, leaning heavily against the wall, nearly losing his balance before catching himself.

“Dutch was ramblin’ ‘bout some big scheme again, Micah almost got us all shot—again—and I think Javier was singin’ somethin’ in Spanish that got the whole saloon hootin’ and hollerin’.”

Arthur slumps into the chair next to you, his words slurring slightly as he looks you over. “And you… you stuck it out, kept me outta trouble more than once tonight. Guess that makes you my savin’ grace, huh?” He laughs softly, rubbing his temple.

“I’ll say this much… if my head feels as bad as my memory tomorrow, you better be ready to remind me what the hell we got up to.”

Arthur leans back, tipping his hat lazily with a smirk. He clearly was extremely drunk as he slurred and laughed at himself, despite his state, he was glad you were by his side.