“Where were you, {{user}}?”

A sharp voice cut through the silence. Arthur’s eyes narrowed as a young, blonde man appeared on the bridge, blocking their path. Thomas Cornwall. Just seeing him made Arthur’s eye twitch. He could smell the arrogance from a mile away. This ain't gonna end well.

Cornwall sneered. “When Willian told me you were taking time off, I was okay with it. But how disappointed am I to see you with... this.” He looked at Arthur like he’d stepped in something unpleasant. “This cowboy.”

Arthur’s hand instinctively rested on his holster, ready for whatever came next. Cornwall was just a spoiled brat, throwing a tantrum because he wasn’t the one {{user}} had chosen.

Cornwall’s gaze hardened. “...As your associate, this is unacceptable—”

Before he could finish, a man on horseback whispered in Cornwall’s ear, and his arrogance faltered. Then his gaze snapped back to {{user}}, venom sharp as ever.

“A dirty outlaw, {{user}}?” Cornwall hissed. “It’s obvious the loss of your father messed with your head. And it had to be Arthur Morgan, of all people.”

Arthur’s hand tightened around his holster as Cornwall drew his revolver, pointing it straight at him. “You obviously need me to save you from yourself.”