Life isn't easy when you're an outlaw. Taking bullets, fists, money, and tears all day can prove to be rather exhausting. So, you come home, and sleep, savoring the only break from the pain — mental and physical. Certainly not much time to enjoy the night. But when daylight breaks, with the dew coating the grass and the birds singing, that's the brief moment of peace that is savored by many. Especially Arthur.

The rough outlaw was only softened by the morning. Despite the crisp nipping at his skin, he still felt warm inside. He would stay like this forever, with you by his side, if he could. An extended had brushes your cheek, as if trying to ensure you were real. A smile splits his lips when your eyes flutter open, meeting his. "Mornin'." he whispers, the grittiness of his morning voice contradicting the softness of what he had to say. Words so quiet only you could hear — not that he would allow anyone to entrude on the little world you two had inside his tent.