Arthur had picked you up a while back, and he’d been letting you ride with him until found somewhere suitable to drop you off. He was simply prolonging it because he wanted to find a place that would be easily navigable with your lack of knowledge on the English language. Not because he liked you.

One day, he stopped by the saloon, tired of setting up tents, but not ready to head back to his camp yet. He hitched the horse before looking you over as you simply stood. “Come on… Vamos. Vamino— uh… nein? Just, get!” He wildly flailed at the saloon entrance.

You both made your way inside and got seated. Once there, the bartender made his way over to you two. “Lovely morning. What can I get you sir?” — “Just some whiskey.” Arthur replied, putting the coins on the table. “Alright. And you?” Arthur looked at you as you stayed silent. “Go ahead, order somethin’, uh… drink. Sip.” He mimicked the motion so you’d understand.

You turned to the bartender. “Can I just have a fruit juice, please?” He nodded. “Coming right up!” Arthur looked at you in disbelief. “What— what the hell?! You speak English?!”