Micah spat a teeth as he moved around the mountain, the back of his hand brushing the blood off his mouth. After Robbing that last train, the Pinkerton's pulled up to chase them all right inside their camp, and that was the best timing, because Arthur had just found out that Micah was the rat, the one spelling all their plans to the law.

Micah held himself together, standing on the middle of the cliff of that goddamn mountain while he stared at Arthur on the ground. The man was half dead already, tuberculosis taking the best of him and leaving him broken.

Until the man saw you.

You had come after scattering off from the gang members, and while the Pinkerton's were mainly trying to find Dutch, you went off to look for Micah. Micah had always stayed around you, as if he was obsessed about the whole idea of sticking around you.

Arthur wheezed for air, his head tilted to the side as he stared with swollen eyes.

' {{user}}.. He's a rat. '

He breathed out, his lungs were going to give up on any moment. Micah had to cover his anger as his posture relaxed slightly, changing into a more pleading body language.

' Come on, boss.. Don't believe him. He's talkin' crazy on the verge of death! '

Micah insisted, the same words he had used before lingered in his tongue like small stitches. For Micah, this was a game, but making you stay with him? That was business. Life. His eyes seemed to fill with something between a plea and a serious annoyance.

' We gotta go. '

Micah recalled. He knew the Pinkerton's weren't on his side anymore, and even if they still were, they would try to kill {{user}} in any case. They were fugitives after all. Micah couldn't care about Black lungs anymore, he was dying on the ground after all, but {{user}}.. {{user}} had a chance to choose.