"What do you even write in that journal all day?"

Arthur seems to be lost in concentration, occasionally glancing upwards and out over the landscape before you. The water hits the shoreline gently, the only sounds that fill the silence along with the gentle wind that rustles against the pages of Arthur's journal.

He doesn't answer right away.

"I can't imagine you have all that many thoughts to fill it with." You teased, getting a deep chuckle out of the silent man.

"Well..." Arthur started, grunting as he shifted against the tree he was sitting against, rolling his shoulders, "You're not wrong. I'm mostly just jotting down what I see."

You move closer and take a seat on the warm grass next to the man, "And what do those dangerous, outlaw, eyes see, Arthur?" You continue coyly.

Arthur gives you a side eye from underneath his heavy brow, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips, "I'll show ya'." Arthur turns his body around enough so that he's facing you, you look at him curiously as his eyes seem to settle intently on your face.

"What are you doing?"

"Just sit still a moment."

You end up sitting there for about an hour. You decide to ignore Arthur and stare out into the lake you had been sitting in front of as you wait for him to show you whatever it is he was working on.

Just as soon as you begin contemplating taking a nap under the tree, or getting up to stretch your legs, Arthur calls your name, "Alright, take a look."

You suddenly turn your head to him, "Hmm? Oh." You notice he's handing you his journal, a pencil stuck between the pages.

"Finally, just what in the world were you doing?"

Arthur crosses his arms and brings his hat down over his eyes, "Just open it up..." He responds, a bit tiredly.

You look down at the journal in your hands, you open it up to the page where Arthur left the pencil, your eyes sparkle in awe and your lips part as you try and find words to compliment Arthur but you fear you might not have anything potent enough to convey how you feel.

Arthur had drawn you. He had sketched a detailed portrait of your face as you stared out into the lake. It was beautiful, you had never seen yourself represented in such a way, and you'd never met anyone who could draw before.

"I had no idea you were capable of something like this, Arthur... I thought those hands of yours knew nothing more than how to pull a trigger."

Arthur took his place back at your side, "Yeah, well, they still don't. I can't always get it to look like that. They're usually scribbles..."

"There's more in this?"

Arthur nods silently at you. You start flipping page after page of Arthur's notebook to see what else he had drawn.

You find that there are many pages that are littered with drawings spanning between two page landscapes and small sketches of animals and plants. You notice he has drawn quite a bit of horses, you smile at how fond of them he must be.

"These are really beautiful, Arthur."

Arthur hums but doesn't respond.

You turn the pages back to the drawing he made of you. You feel like you could stare at it forever, your eyes, your hair, all sketched in pencil with almost lovingly detail.

"Arthur,"

"Hmm?" He hums from underneath his wide brimmed hat, he had slid down the tree and was nearly laying on the grass next to you, head resting on his arms behind his head.

"Can I keep this drawing?"

He pushes his hat up, "Of course." Sitting up he takes the journal from your hands and carefully tears the page out of the journal to hand to you.

"Thank you, Arthur. I really love it..." You wait for a moment, "I saw that you wrote a lot about Dutch in your journal. What do you really think about all this? This running."

"Well, a lot of that I tend to write in the moment. It's a funny thing, writing. Being able to see your thoughts on paper. There are a lot of things in that journal that don't sound like me anymore. As far as Dutch now though..." Arthur scratched at his beard in thought, "Well...I trust the man of course. But sometimes I think he gets carried away by his own optimism. And trying to be the voice of reason can be tough, especially in a gang where every man thinks their idea is the right one." Arthur brings his arm back behind his head, leaning as comfortably as he can against the tree, "I just hope all this ain't for nothin'. I guess that's all my writin' is really about. Hoping everything turns out the way Dutch plans."

"Oh it sounds like it's more than that. I'm starting to think you're smarter than you let on, Arthur Morgan." you joke.

"I didn't know I was letting on at all, I think that makes me dumber." Arthur quips back.

You laugh joyfully, "Well if anything you're certainly more human than you let on. I didn't know you saw things the way you did. I didn't know you wrote your thoughts down like that."

"I suppose when I first learned how to read, I thought it was a waste of time, but then I held onto a pencil and it felt better to use my hands rather than my head. And I was practicin' my reading still but it was less borin'."

"And the drawing?"

"Also born of boredom."

You laughed heartily, "Well, next time you're bored, come and find me, I want more portraits of me." You winked.

Arthur holds your gaze for a moment, gauging your seriousness, "Alright then." he agrees.

You clutch your portrait to your chest and lean into Arthur, placing a kiss on his cheek, "Thank you, Arthur, I love my gift."

Arthur watched you walk away, eager for the chance to draw you again.