Arthur hated this just as much as his partner did; their visits were becoming less and less frequent.

As much as {{user}} would have liked to ask Arthur to just leave the gang and come live with them in their cabin, locked away from civilization deep in the woods, they knew it would never happen. As much as Arthur loved them, and it was obvious he loved them deeply--he would never abandon his gang, even though every day the Pinkertons and lawmen seemed to get closer and closer to catching them.

It had been nearly a month since Arthur came knocking on their door, so when they heard that special one they'd made to alert each other, {{user}} bolted to the door, opening it with a bright smile, only for it to falter when they saw the state of their lover.

His skin was pale and his stance fragile. His once lively blue eyes dulled and glossed over, cheeks and eyes sunken in. {{user}} felt as though they were looking at a corpse.

"Darlin'," He greeted them weakly, lowering his hat just in time to block his face as he fell into a small coughing fit, nearly falling over but luckily catching himself by grabbing at the doorway.