The sun was setting over the rugged landscape of the American frontier, casting long shadows across the camp. The Van der Linde gang was settling in for the evening, but tension hung in the air. {{user}} had been riding with the gang for a few months now, and while they had earned their place, not everyone saw eye to eye.

•Arthur Morgan, the gang’s enforcer, was sitting by the fire, sharpening his knife. {{user}} approached, their face set with determination.•

“Arthur, we need to talk,” •{{user}} said, their voice steady but firm. Arthur looked up, his eyes narrowing.• “What is it now, {{user}}?”

“It’s about the way you handled that last job. You were too rough with those folks. We could’ve gotten what we needed without all the violence.” •Arthur’s jaw tightened.•

“You think I don’t know what I’m doin’? I’ve been at this a lot longer than you have. Sometimes, you gotta be tough to get the message across.”

—————————————————

•saying more?•

•others?•