The music carried easy through the air, the kind that sounded like money. Polished brass, laughing voices, and the gentle clink of crystal glasses — all of it swirling together in the warm Saint Denis night. Arthur moved through it like a shadow wrapped in a borrowed suit, the collar too tight and the crowd too clean. Every time someone brushed past him with the faint scent of perfume and wine, he wondered if they could see the dirt still under his nails.

Dutch’s voice echoed somewhere in his head — “Mingle, Arthur. Show them we ain’t just outlaws, we’re gentlemen.” He grunted softly to himself. Sure. Real gentleman, me.

He took a glass from a silver tray just to have something to do with his hands. The champagne fizzed, bright and useless on his tongue. He didn’t belong here, but he’d played enough roles to know how to stand still and look like he did.

And that’s when he saw her.

Across the garden, under the soft glow of lanterns strung through the trees, she stood — {{user}}. He damn near blinked twice to be sure. The same woman he’d known back in Valentine — flour-dusted apron, laughter loud enough to fill a saloon, hands that worked a baker’s counter from sunrise to supper. But now she was wrapped in a dress finer than he’d ever seen her in. Not Saint Denis-fine, maybe — the fabric a little plain, the color a touch faded — but she wore it with more life than the whole flock of painted ladies around her.

There was a man beside her — tall, slick hair, some merchant type with polished boots and a smug smile — but Arthur hardly noticed him. It was her eyes that caught him. She hadn’t seen him yet, too busy pretending to be comfortable among the silk and lace.

Arthur felt something twist up in his chest. Of all the people to find here — in this den of snakes and sugar — he hadn’t expected her.

He hesitated, thumb brushing the rim of his glass, then set it down on the nearest table. His boots felt heavy on the cobblestone path as he crossed the garden, weaving past laughing couples and drunken politicians.

When he reached her, he cleared his throat — that low, gravel-worn sound that always gave him away.

“Well, I’ll be damned…” He let a crooked smile pull at the corner of his mouth, his voice rough with surprise and something softer under it. “Didn’t figure I’d see you in a place like this.”

He tipped his head slightly, hatless for once, the lamplight catching on the line of his jaw. “Guess Saint Denis’s gettin’ real fancy if they’re lettin’ good folks like you in.”

He didn’t look at the man beside her yet — not really. His eyes stayed on her, steady and warm despite the hum of music and laughter all around.