HIGHWAYS & BYWAYS ⊳ arthur morgan x reader

━ ii

The offer baffles you, and you find yourself questioning your conclusion about Arthur Morgan all over again. Maybe he is more thoughtful than he lets on?

Or he's trying to gain something from you?

You shoo away that thought from your mind. He's probably well aware he could have anything from just about any woman (or man) at this party, so why should you be his first choice?

Surely, he's just trying to be nice.

He's still looking at you, expression more stone faced and neutral than you could've ever imagined it. There's nothing to read from it, no conclusion to draw, nothing. It's even more frustrating than staring at an empty page.

"The southern part of Blackwater, are, uh...you familiar with it?" You answer reluctantly. Arthur nods his head from side to side, lips pulled into a tight line, he's considering what exactly to do.

"Ain't exactly on my way, but sure. I can take ya."

His tone doesn't reveal much more about his exact thoughts either, and it's honestly starting to irk you a bit. You can't tell wether he's bothered by whatever he's offered to do for you or not, neither if he's actually eager to provide you with help. How can a man be so damn hard to read?

"Thank you." You say, and he nods his head curtly. You decide that if he's giving you the comfort of taking you home, you should give him the comfort of leaving the party at the time he pleases, be that in fifteen minutes or after midnight. You don't mind staying at John's a little longer, to be honest. "We can leave whenever you want to, it doesn't have to be right away."

"Should be right away." Arthur answers, and you find yourself surprised at his answer. It's barely...what, six, seven in the afternoon? And he wants to leave already? "I gotta be back at Macfarlane's ranch by midnight."

That doesn't exactly provide any epiphanies on your side, but you agree with a shrug nonetheless. Part of you wonders if Arthur should be trusted, but then again, if he truly had bad intentions, he wouldn't be John and Abigail's friend. They wouldn't trust him the way they do if he wasn't worthy of it.

"Sure." You agree, then make your way towards the ranch, and Arthur follows, presumably with the same intention as yours: saying your goodbyes to the Marstons.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"You take care now, Arthur." Abigail smiles and reaches up to give the man's shoulder a squeeze. There's the smallest hint of a smile on his face as well — and you realize you're treating the sight like some kind of rarity.

John is next, they silently shake hands before they part, and simultaneously, Abigail hugs you. She smells faintly of that familiar perfume she always uses, as well as burnt wood from their home's chimney. You hug her back.

"And you too, (y/n)." She adds.

You nod and thank her for her hospitality and amaretto, to which she grins, and lets you in on the secret that she'd bought it especially for you. You feel warmer after that, and insist she, John and Jack drop by your apartment sometime. It only feels right to return the received kindness one way or another.

Jack and his friends are gathered around Rufus outside, and have made a cone out of paper, which they've strapped to his forehead. He's a unicorn now, apparently. The dog doesn't seem to mind the accessory as long as the kids make up for it with attention and belly rubs, which earns a giggle from you, and a curious glance from Arthur.