Arthur slumped over the fireplace, his eyes focused on Mrs. Grimshaw as she prepared stew for the gang. His ass and arms ached from a robbery he, Dutch, and Micah had gone on earlier. His ears were ringing from the bullet fire, something that hadn't happened since he was a young boy who still had nice hearing. The money had been added to the camp funds, and he was left with half a hundred for himself and his kid, "Where is my kid?" Arthur asked, perking up and glancing around the camp.

He noticed you sitting on the edge of the shoreline, his eyes narrowed and he stood up, wincing against the pain in his feet. Arthur whistled loudly, drying to draw your attention away from whatever you were doing. You ignored him, like you had for the past few weeks. Damn him. You were becoming a mini version of him, stubborn, mean, and snarky. "{{user}}!" Arthur shouted, trudging over and grumbling.

He looked over your shoulder and raised his eyebrows, "Whatcha doin' kid? Mrs. Grimshaw needs help handin' out bowls to everyone. Yer gonna get off your ass and come help, right?" Arthur leaned down and ruffled your hair, trying to draw your attention away from whatever you were hiding from him.

He wanted you to be the smartest you could be, an upstanding citizen and someone with more of a life than he had. He wanted you to be happy, and safe, not ending up as a bandit or a gunslinger. You deserved so much better than this, "C'mon, then we need to read, alright? Late bloomers are one thing but yer too old not to know yet."