Arthur was not a complete stranger to having a gun in his face.

Not he necessarily enjoyed having the heavy piece of artillery pointed in his direction, but given his lifestyle choices it was not uncommon. In most scenarios he would have had his own weapon raised, firing before the offender even had the chance to react.

But when Arthur and some of the other Van der Linde gang members raided an O’Driscoll camp, the last thing he expected to find inside the cabin was you.

The contents inside were sparse, with an unconscious O’Driscoll member passed out on the floor with the fireplace stoker laid haphazardly nearby.

Then he heard the click! of the gun and Arthur’s eyes were on you. Chained up to the desk near the fireplace and with a wild look in your eyes, your hand did not move an inch as you held your weapon high. But your eyes betrayed you, making you look like a scared animal, desperately searching for a way out.

“Easy now.” Arthur said instantly, raising his palms before placing his gun on the floor, pushing it with the toe of his boot. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya’. I’m not with those men who locked you up here.”

Taking a slow step forward the floorboards creaked and groaned but his hands remained raised. “My name’s Arthur. I’d like to help you if you’ll let me. So, what do you say about putting that fine piece down so we can get you out of here, hmm?”