Arthur Morgan

You disliked the horribly annoying sounds from the end of camp, all the little sounds of crickets and the occasional scream from deep in the woods. You slowly made your way over to Arthur’s tent, poking your head in.

He had his hat over his eyes, his back resting on the bedroll. You softly cleared your throat, letting him know you were there.

Arthur lifted his hat, his eyes flickering over to look at you a little confused.

“You need somethin’?”