You’re a bit older than Arthur, only by a few years. You two are similar. You were picked up as a child when things were rough, being accepted by Dutch into the Van Der Linde Gang. No different from Arthur, it just happened sometime later.

He’s never knew how to become close to you. Not like he wanted to, but the thought interested him. Whenever he went on missions with you, you were always straight on task, in and out, focused on getting business done and that was it. There was no sweet talking or expressing who you were. Not many knew what you liked or anything much more about you. Just that you pulled more than enough weight around camp.

Arthur suspected everyone to be asleep when he walked out of his small tent. It was midnight anyways. He noticed you down by the creek, a book in hand. You looked focused. He couldn’t decipher if you were drawing, writing, or reading. He never took you for the literature type.

“{{user}}. Never took ya for a night owl.” Stumbling down with bleary eyes, Arthur sits right by on one of the stray logs. He rests his arms on his knees, looking at you.

“So. Yer into books?” Arthur gruffly asks, the curiosity evident in his tone.