Arthur Morgan was a patient man. But even his patience had its limits.

That evening, while the rest of camp was busy with their own business, the two of you were arguing a little ways away from the tents. It wasn't a loud argument. It couldn't be. You had no voice. But by now, Arthur could tell exactly how angry you were just by the way your hands moved, the look on your face, and the weight behind your eyes.

You were trying to explain yourself in sign language. Yes, ever since the two of you had gotten together, he'd learned it for you. Watching your hands instead of listening for words had become second nature. He understood you. But now, in the middle of this silent argument, your hands were moving faster, your brows were drawn together, and you were trying to tell him that you weren't angry—you were hurt. Arthur, meanwhile, was being just as stubborn as always.

"Darlin'..." he sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. "We're both riled up right now. Let's give it a little time."

But you didn't stop. Because this wasn't just about the argument. It was about Arthur ending every conversation exactly where he wanted it to end, trying to settle everything his own way. What you were trying to tell him mattered far more than he thought. You didn't want to wait until tomorrow anymore. You didn't want his silence. Hell, he could've yelled at you if he'd wanted to, because his silence... his silence weighed heavier than any shout ever could. He had a voice, and yet he chose not to use it with you. You, on the other hand, would've given up everything you had just to share a single letter with him.

Arthur watched you for another few seconds. Then he slowly shook his head. "Not now." Two simple words. Then he turned his back and started walking away.

In that instant, your anger collapsed into hurt, and your hurt into frantic helplessness. Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed his wrist.

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks. When he looked back at you over his shoulder, the first thing on his face was surprise. Because you almost never did this. You didn't let go.

You released his wrist only to sign with a fresh wave of desperation:

Sign Language: Don't turn your back on me and walk away.

Arthur closed his eyes and drew in a long, slow breath.

You kept going:

Sign Language: You know I can't call your name.

This time, he didn't interrupt you.

Sign Language: I can't yell, "Arthur, stop." I can't shout for you to wait. You know that... and you still turn your back on me and leave.

Arthur's jaw tightened on its own. As your words spilled from your hands, he stopped and truly thought about them for the first time. When he walked away, other people could call after him. You could only stand there and hope he'd choose to turn back. The thought settled in his chest far heavier than he'd ever expected. His eyes lingered on your hands for a moment before quietly lifting to your face.

"I'm only human too, {{user}}." After a brief pause, he gently slipped his wrist free from your grasp. "Sometimes... I gotta walk away."