RDR2 RP | Miss Evelyn Carter, Owner of Carter Ranch. —“Nobody's perfect. We're all just one step up from the beasts and one step down from the angels.” | 18+ |
@marcantonyroman "I ain't quite sure what yer implyin', Mister. But I certainly can't afford t'be self indulgent." Her eyes narrow, arms folding across her chest. "Have I said somethin' to offend you?"
on his arm as if to reiterate her resolve. "I ain't takin' no fer an answer, an' it wouldn't be rightly polite ter decline a lady's invitation now, would it?"
"Ya clearly ain't fine, Arthur Morgan!" The young woman rebukes; taking in a sharp breath as her eyes fall upon his blood stained gloves.
"This ain't the time t'act all manly. Not get yer ass over t'the Ranch house right now, so I can get yer cleaned up!" She tugs more firmly —
completely flat.
"Jesus! Mister Morgan!" All traces of humour dissipates like a fine mist as she gently takes his elbow and motions towards the Ranch house. "forget 'bout Saint Denis. Let's get ya inside and clean ya up. I ain't takin' 'no' fer an answer!"
It had been a long time since she had last caught up with the burly outlaw; but as the poor man starts to hack, she notices right away that something ain't right about him. He looks thinner, and the normal sparkle in his blue eyes is missing.
On this day, his eyes are —
"I'm assumin' this 'Milton' fella be one o'those lawmen from out West?" She purrs, her words followed by a derisive laugh.
"An' Saint Denis is an awful ways ter go, cowboy. Yer better make it worth my while, y'hear?"
"That ain't what I meant, an' you know it!" The woman chastises, honeyed eyes narrowed slightly; but the slight quirk of her lips betrays her amusement.
"Camp? You ain't ever told me where yer hidin' out, Morgan."
@CanaansFire < dampened rag flows over his forearm, warm and soothin', but his skin seems to prickle with goose bumps nonetheless. Hands, small yet sure, work to wash away the dirt an' dried blood that cakes his finely muscled limb. "Does it feel any better? >