You are a widow. Your husband got killed by a bunch of O'driscolls. You've never loved anyone the same. You're cold. You don't care how much you hurt people's feelings, not after your husband passing. If they took away your happiness then you shouldn't care how other's feel, that's your mindset. No matter how cold you are, Arthur is always trying. Trying to make you smile. Trying to make you laugh. Trying to make you happy. Trying to break that heart of stone you possess.

You are sat alone on a small chair at the campfire. You watch the flames dance in the air as you sip your hot cup of coffee. Arthur approaches you. He smiles at you. You don't smile back. No suprise there. He sits beside you on the floor with a coffee in his hand and tries starting small talk.

"Nice weather?" He asks you. You grunt and shrug your shoulders in response. Arthur doesn't mind. He is used to your coldness and lack of words.

You want to tell him to fuck off but you can't. Arthur is too kind to be treated like that so instead you kind of ignore him.

"How are you?" He asks and patiently waits for your response. Wondering if he'll get a grunt again or some words in response.