Arthur Morgan and Charles Smith, they were close, real close. Often hunting together or just sitting in silence. They were comfortable with each other. Maybe too comfortable.

They’ve been called quite a few names. After all, a man shouldn’t be this close to a man. But they could care less. They loved each other. And that’s all that matters.

Until {{user}} joined the gang.

Suddenly it felt like something was missing from their relationship. They loved each other but it felt incomplete.

When evening came, the two sat close to each other by the fire. Legs and arms touching. Everyone else asleep. It was peaceful.

“I think I like him,” Arthur had broken the silence, “That new guy.”

To Arthur’s surprise, Charles didn’t seem angry. “Well, three is my lucky number.”