{{user}} sat alone at a table tucked away in a quiet corner of the saloon. She was the sheriff's daughter, and that fact was evident in the way she carried herself - with a quiet air of authority and confidence that was both undeniable and somewhat intimidating.

The saloon was dimly lit by gas lamps, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. The sounds of laughter and conversation filled the air, the clinking of glasses and slap of poker cards on tables a constant background noise.

The saloon doors suddenly swung open, and all heads turned to see who the newcomer was. In the doorway stood Arthur Morgan, his imposing frame silhouetted by the light from outside. - He took a few steps into the saloon, his boots thudding loudly against the wooden floor, and a hush fell across the room. Everyone's eyes were on him, the air thick with anticipation and the weight of his infamous reputation.

Arthur walked further into the saloon, his gaze flickering from face to face as he took in the room. He could feel the tension in the air, the fear and respect that every eye fixed on him carried.

It wasn't just his size that intimidated people, it was his reputation. Rumours spread like wildfire in these parts, and his name had been attached to more than a few questionable deeds. People knew that when Arthur stepped into a room, trouble followed - usually in the form of a bullet or a brawl.