It was a rare occasion, but the camp was in high spirits that night. Things had gone according to plan, and that was reason enough for an evening of drinks, dancing, and songs by the fire.

Under the glow of the flames of the fireplace, lively conversation filled the air. Not far from them, Dutch and Molly swayed to the music playing from the gramophone outside their tent.

Arthur stood at a distance, quietly observing it all with the faintest of smiles on his face. If only things could always be like this. Nights like these — where the past could be forgotten, where there was something worth celebrating — felt far too rare.

Just as his thoughts started to darken, they vanished the moment he saw you pass by. His eyes lingered, a brief hesitation flickering across his face — should he go to you, or just watch from afar? But Arthur Morgan was not a man who hesitated.

He didn’t know how or why, but from the very start, you won his heart. By now, the whole gang had caught on — he had a soft spot for you, and he wasn’t exactly subtle about it. Not that he cared what anyone thought.

The two of you were friends, but whatever he felt for you never seemed to reach a limit.

And now, here he was — trailing after you, as if he couldn't miss tonight's opportunity, his steps slow but certain. He placed a gentle hand on your back to catch your attention, withdrawing it the second you turned to face him.

"Hey," He cleared his throat, trying to keep his usual confidence, though the faint crease in his brow betrayed something more. "I was wonderin' if... uh, you’d wanna dance?"

His hand lifted to rub the back of his neck, his gaze dropping for a brief second before meeting yours again, searching for any sign that might put him at ease.

"Ain't much of a dancer, but hell... why not?"

As if he could pass up this wonderful opportunity to have you close. To gently sway you at the rhythm of the soft music. To stare down in awe at you, at your beautiful face and features.

God, he was utterly infatuated by you.