When the Devil Cries (Arthur Morgan X Male OC)

6. A Ghost Among Men

From Eddie's POV

SAINT DENIS, RYAN RESIDENCE

THAT NIGHT

"Don't think too much about it," Arthur's gentle voice replayed in my mind. "Just aim, breathe in, and..."

A smile crept onto my face at the sweet memory whilst I sat at the piano, examining the gun he bought for me earlier.

Arthur was kind enough to gift me a beautiful Schofield revolver that had been decorated with a sleek rosewood varnish, brass frame, and blue-steel barrel. I also decided to purchase a carving of a buck on the grip, just to give it a personal touch, and hadn't been able to stop staring at it since.

It truly was a gorgeous weapon, and it would always bring me pleasant thoughts of the day I got it...but even then, I hoped I'd never have to use it. Things were crazy enough for me in Saint Denis, what with all the chaos in my life. The last thing I wanted was to be forced to shoot someone.

But I supposed Arthur was right in the end: it never hurt to be armed.

"Oh God, Eddie..." I muttered to myself in embarrassment, thinking back to when Arthur taught me how to shoot a gun. "...You absolute moron."

The man actually had to hold my arms in place because I was just that clueless.

He was so kind during the process, and showed no signs of impatience, but I didn't even want to think about how much of an idiot Arthur must've thought I was.

I mean, it didn't take much to see that he was insanely experienced with firearms. He handled guns better than an author handled a pen...and to see someone like me attempt to shoot one -- Arthur probably wanted to use me as the target.

Well, no. He probably didn't.

Arthur was genuinely kind, unlike most of the other people I'd met. I could see it in his eyes, even though he spoke so lowly of himself.

He claimed he was a bad man, and yet he offered me help every time we ran into each other. I'd never seen him commit an immoral act, and he seemed to actually care about people, despite how much they might've annoyed him sometimes.

Deep down, he had a heart of gold. And I didn't know what Arthur's idea of "bad" was, but it certainly didn't match mine.

Putting the revolver away, I returned to the piano and flipped through my notes, hoping to get in some last-minute practice. It wasn't my first time performing in front of a large crowd, and I had been through this before, but I still found myself rather nervous about the show to come. After all, the entirety of the audience's focus would be on me, and I just prayed I wouldn't screw it up under the stress. I couldn't afford to.

Relaxing my hands, I began to play the same melody I performed for Arthur the other day as my fingers danced across the keys, causing me to think back to the portrait the man had made of me.

Even though I had my suspicions Arthur was somewhat of an artist, I didn't expect him to be that skilled. The portrait had a surprising amount of detail in it along with a rough but beautiful technique of shading, and it almost felt like I was staring at a mirror.

He even scribbled down a few words underneath the drawing with a type of handwriting I never thought I'd see from a man of his background, and wrote out the words I said to him when he came to my house.

Arthur truly was a marvel. The kind of man that only appeared once in a lifetime.

I just never thought it'd be during mine.

"...Ah, there you are."

Jumping at the sudden voice, I instantly retreated my hands from the piano as if I were touching a hot stove, whipping around to see who had paid me a visit at this late hour.