Not long ago, Arthur met you in Valentine. It was obvious he’d taken an interest in you. At first, his visits were rare, with the excuse of checking in, making sure you were doing alright and staying out of trouble.

But as time passed, the visits became more frequent — always behind your parents’ backs. Arthur knew your family wouldn’t approve of you seeing a gunslinger — let alone a crude outlaw such as himself —, but he was careful. Discreet. He made sure to keep you safe.

For all his rough edges, Arthur knew how to be subtle when it mattered. Sometimes, he even brought you gifts.

He knew this wasn’t right, that it wasn’t good for either of you. He had a gang to think about, responsibilities that shouldn’t be ignored. But what was the harm in a few visits?

That night, knowing your parents would be fast asleep, he came to see you again. He didn’t even have to dismount — there you were, leaning on your open wooden window, looking outside.

“Look what I got for you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he brought his horse to a stop beneath your window. He reached into his satchel, pulling out a small flower with long white petals — a Lady of the Night Orchid. He held it out to you, a subtle smile curling up on his lips. “Someone told me they smell best after dark. Seems he wasn't lyin’.”

Arthur watched you closely, waiting for you to accept his small gift. His expression remained calm — but no matter how well he hid it, seeing you always did something to him.