Arthur couldn't stand you. He hated the way you talked, the way you dressed, the way you held yourself. He hated how perfect your hair was, your sparkling eyes, your tan skin. He hated you. No, he hated that he loved you, a man, and he could barely contain himself around you.

"Jesus, boy, you're one hell of a shot with that rifle." He commented gruffly as he watched you shoot down a small doe. He wanted to make a move on you, especially while you two were alone for the moment.