#that's highkey one of the reasons I wanted to get a job sooner rather than later. automatic social interaction

[neverendingford]

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[the-awkward-outlaw]

Hello! Could i request a drabble where orphan!reader gets picked up by the gang only after a few months Arthur does? He's like highkey jealous of the new golden child until she's in a bad situation to get hurt and he instantly goes protective, kinda ends up realizing she's part of his family too along the way. Also i send many praises your way ~ you're so talented and thank you for doing these requests!!

This one turned out greatly different from what I planned, but that’s one of the joys of being a writer. You don’t always know what’s going to happen either. I’ve also never written a young Arthur, so this was a new experience. Anyways, enjoy! There’s blood, violence, poor Spanish (on my part), and it’s topped with a big serving of fluff at the end. 

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Arthur leans against the fence, glaring across the paddock at you. You’ve been a thorn in his side ever since you showed up four months ago. He used to think John was bad enough, but you… you’re worse.

Dutch and Hosea brought you in, covered in dirt and thin as a bone, but your pockets laden with stolen trinkets. You’d foolishly tried to rob Dutch himself, hoping to find something you could sell in order to get the day’s meal. Never before had you been caught stealing, but it was hard to fool a pro like Dutch. He instantly knew what you were up to, but he and Hosea saw your potential when they unloaded your pockets and saw all your ill-gotten gains. 

Over the next few months, Dutch and Hosea both taught you to read, Grimshaw taught you how to clean and Arthur was told to teach you how to use a gun, though he hated it. He couldn’t believe someone as old as you (though you were a few years younger than him and he was nearly twenty) could barely do anything. He’d heard the story that your parents died when you were very young, taken by yellow fever. After their deaths, you were sent to an orphanage but it was so overcrowded, filthy and miserable you ran away and lived on the streets where you were more likely to scrounge up a meal. Still, Arthur didn’t care for you. 

Hosea and Dutch boasted about you as you were eager to learn. You picked up reading and writing extremely fast and Grimshaw had no problem teaching you how to do the domestic work around camp. You liked doing them even, as they kept your hands busy (even though the work itself was dull). Arthur felt smug when you struggled to learn how to shoot a gun or skin an animal, ignoring the remarks by Hosea that he was more likely to blame for being a poor instructor. It was no secret Arthur was jealous.

But how could he not be? For years, it had been just him, Dutch and Hosea. They were the perfect trio and the two men were more like a family to him than he’d ever known before. When Grimshaw entered the picture, it didn’t change things much. In fact she was a bonus as she taught Arthur how to repair his clothes. But when John Marston came, that was when things turned. Dutch and Hosea rescued him when he was only 12 and standing on the gallows, a rope around his neck. 

John became the golden boy after that and Arthur felt he was pushed to the side. He tried time and again to gain his status back, to be the favorite boy. He just wanted the same attention he used to get instead of having most of the work thrown on his back. Sure, John learned the proper ways of being an outlaw, but Dutch and Hosea doted on him. Things went on this way for nearly four years and then you entered the picture. 

There’s been a lot of resentment Arthur holds towards you. Since he was a few years older and definitely looked like an adult, he was intimidating. Not only that, but he’s been running with the gang for most of his life. You, well, the easiest way to put it were a nobody. Just some orphan girl who could barely pick up a knife before you came here. And now here you are, raking in all the glory while he does all the work. 

He sighs, his eyes boring into you. You’ve been wise to avoid him the past couple of days, ever since the robbery. Hosea had taken you into town, targeting a rather rich man who would be easy to rob provided he had something to distract him. Hosea had gotten you to pretend to be his daughter and to have a fit. You’d played the part brilliantly and the man was too easy to rob, and the take was excellent. Arthur was supposed to go with him on that job, but he’d been out with Mary so Hosea took you instead. 

Arthur’s mood dips even further when he thinks about Mary. They’d had another big fight and he wasn’t too sure she’d contact him again this time. He loves her, but he isn’t too sure that feeling is reciprocated. A few weeks ago, they’d been out together and some man tried to pick a fight with Arthur. That was the first time Mary saw his outlaw side and it scared her how quickly Arthur drew out his gun and he hadn’t even flinched when he pulled the trigger. They’ve been fighting ever since. Part of him regrets giving her that ring last time he saw her. He felt he was making a commitment to her, but she might not be willing to do the same. He’s started to see how easily she plays him. 

A loud giggle draws him out of his mind again and he looks back up at you and Hosea. He doesn’t want to be here anymore, at this old house the gang has been occupying for the last few months. He goes over to his horse, his mind set on taking a ride and being gone for a few days. Maybe that’ll help him clear his head and he can get away from you. Just as he’s about to mount up, Hosea walks over with you in tow. 

“Arthur, where you going?”

“Just… around. Be back in a few days.” 

“Well, take Y/N with you.” 

“Why?” Arthur shoots back. 

You lower your head. You know he’s not fond of you. 

“Because she needs to learn how to survive out there. Teach her how to set up a campfire, go fishing, hunting. She needs the experience.” 

“Why can’t you or Dutch take her?” 

“Arthur, she’s your family too, whether you like it or not. Besides, me and Dutch might have something cooking up. Just take her and don’t get her lost!” 

Arthur groans but relents. Despite his annoyance, you flash a big grin at him and grab your horse. He doesn’t wait for you to get settled into the saddle before he’s running. Nothing has ever felt like a bigger weight than dragging you along. 

For the next few hours, he leads you on down south towards the San Luis River. He hopes you won’t complain about the heat, the bugs or the snakes. You don’t though. You try to pick up a conversation with him a few times, but when he doesn’t take, you settle for gazing at the surroundings. The sky is so beautiful down here, feeling somehow closer. 

Over the next several hours, Arthur continues further south and west, down below Tumbleweed even. You’ve never been this far out west, but you like it. The land is incredible, growing in strange, hot formations. The water from the distant river has a richer color than it does back east. 

Several times, Arthur tries to lose you. He just wants some peace and quiet, some room and space to think. Besides, if he really wanted to talk with someone, you’d be the last person he’d pick. Unfortunately, you stick to him as efficiently as a determined fly. He just can’t shake you off. 

By the end of the night, Arthur is more than irritated with you. He shows you how to pitch a tent and make a fire, but he grumbles the entire way through it and he doesn’t do a very thorough job. You feel you’ve learned nothing, but you know his patience is short enough as it is without you acting stupid, so you pretend to know what you’re doing. You lie down in your bedroll, your head sticking out enough so you can still see the stars. 

Arthur, lying in his own tent, continues to glare at you. You’re still young enough to retain your naivety towards the world, and part of him despises you for it. He’s started to see how ugly it all is, how ugly his way of life is. At least he can hold onto the smug thought that someday, in a couple of years or maybe even sooner, you’ll see it too. 

Halfway through the night, Arthur’s startled awake. He’s always been a light sleeper, and he’s even more so when sleeping out in the wilderness like this. You’d snored particularly hard and that was why he’d woken. He sighs heavily when you give another loud snore. Why did he get saddled with you? 

A horrible thought comes to him. What if he just ditched you? Hell, a couple of days on your own out here would do you some good. He’d come back for you of course, he’s not stupid enough to return to the gang without you. Hosea and Dutch would be furious. He won’t set that kind of example for the 12 year old John neither. After thinking on it for a while, he quietly collapses his tent and gets on his horse, riding away into the night. 

He doesn’t go far, of course. He’s not so cruel to leave you completely unattended, but he’s rather interested to see how you’ll handle yourself. Besides, it’ll distract him from Mary and maybe he’ll even get a good laugh. 

He settles himself far enough away that the only way to keep an eye on you is through his binoculars. You surely won’t be able to see him. He sets up his own tiny camp and sleeps a while longer. 

Hours pass and the sun rises, forcing you to wake. After rubbing your eyes, you look around to find Arthur’s things gone. The sight causes you to leap out of your tent. Did he abandon you? No, you think. Arthur may dislike you, but you refuse to think him cruel enough to do that. The only conclusion you can think of is that someone took him. However, after inspecting where his tent had been, you see no signs of another person or even an animal around. Everything you can see points to the fact that, at some point, he’d just gotten up and left. 

You sit down near the hot coals of what’s left of last night’s fire, place your elbows on your crossed legs and plop your chin on your hands. You’ve been trying so hard to stay out of Arthur’s way, to not give him a reason to hate you. It’s not your fault that Hosea and Dutch dote on you so much. Personally, sometimes it makes you a bit nervous, like they’re setting you up for when you finally mess up. But did Arthur really hate you enough to just leave you like this? Will he tell Dutch and Hosea that you drowned or ran off or something, give them some kind of excuse behind your absence? Probably. 

The thought of what lie Arthur might come up with sparks an anger you’ve never felt before. Dutch and Hosea took you in, offered to give you a new life with meaning to it. You’re not some orphaned kid living in the street like a rat anymore. You’re an outlaw, and outlaws are brave. You won’t give Arthur the satisfaction of knowing he bested you. Somehow, someway, you’ll find your way back to the gang’s hideout. You smile when you think of the shocked expression on Arthur’s face when you show up. 

After eating a tin of peaches, you clumsily pack up your tent and stuff it into your saddlebags, ignoring that a large section dangles out (you tried stuffing it in but it just wouldn’t fit). You kick dirt onto the coals, sufficiently dousing them and then you mount up, determined to head back home. Unfortunately (and under the watchful eyes of Arthur), you start heading east, but you’re not going far enough north. 

Arthur doesn’t stop you though. He follows you, constantly checking on your progress and chuckling to himself when you continue the wrong way. He’s provided another good laugh when you pull out the bow Dutch had bought you a few weeks back, but you’ve never used before. It’s clear you’ve never shot a bow before, Arthur watches you struggle to notch an arrow and then try shooting it at a grazing pronghorn. The arrow flies forward about five feet before it lands on the ground. The tip doesn’t even get buried in the sand. 

Several more times you try to shoot the arrow, but with little progress. You shoot on and on until the muscles in your arms and ribs throb painfully. Arthur only left you with a few cans of food and a bit of dried beef. Certainly not enough to allow you to survive a few days on your own. But you’ll manage. One of the benefits of being an orphan on the street was you learned how to go a day or two without food. It’s not fun, but you can do it. 

A few more hours pass and you’re miserable. Your stomach is growling, but you refuse to eat any of your precious reserves. The sun beats down hard and unrelenting, burning your arms. You’re grateful for your tattered hat as your head and face are spared. 

As the sun begins its slow descent in the sky, you come across a small lake. On the south end is an empty cabin. Perhaps you’ll have the good fortune of being able to stay there for the night. After setting up a good place to sleep in the cabin and unsaddling your horse, you take out your fishing pole. However, you don’t know the first thing about fishing and no one bothered to set it up before giving it to you. You know there’s some complicated knotting to it all, and that’s about it. 

As the sky grows a bit darker and you’re given a break from the unforgiving heat, you scour the land for any kind of edible plants. The problem is  you really don’t know what’s safe to eat, or if some plants must be boiled or cooked before they’re safe. It’s all new territory for you. After finally crumbling and eating some of the dried beef, you go to bed, your stomach still demanding more food. 

Arthur chuckles to himself from the safety of his own camp, a rabbit cooking over the fire. You’re really out of your element here. Finally, there’s something he can boast about that you can’t do. Of course, he knows that if Dutch and Hosea ever find out, they’ll be furious, but Arthur’s sure you won’t ever tell them. Especially when he comes back to get you and you find out he was never far away. After eating, he lies down on his bedroll, his hands behind his head. He looks up at the stars, smiling a bit. Depending on how badly you do tomorrow, he’ll fetch you and bring you home. 

Morning comes once again and Arthur sits up. After clearing his eyes, he pulls out his binoculars and easily finds the cabin you spent the night in. Your horse is still where you left it, but there’s no sign of movement from the cabin. Figuring you’re just tired and hungry, he waits for you to come out. However, when midday comes and he still hasn’t seen you, he grows worried. After packing up his things, he rides to the lake. 

When he arrives, he pauses, listening, waiting. Still nothing. He puts his horse next to yours and inspects it. Your horse greets him with a soft whinny, but she’s clearly hungry in this tiny paddock with no food to browse on. Something’s wrong. You care about your horse more than anything, you’d never let her starve. He gives her a quick pat and then heads into the cabin, hoping you’re not sick or overly distraught. 

When he opens the door, his stomach plummets. The cabin is strewn with signs of a struggle, furniture toppled over. A table lies on its side, one leg splintered off. The mess looks fresh, like it happened within the past few hours. The bed in the corner shows signs of having been slept in. It takes him only a second to realize that sometime during the night, someone or maybe even a few people came in and kidnapped you. 

Arthur’s not a pro at tracking, especially people. That’s one of his weak spots, but he knows he has to do his best and find you.It’s not even the thought that Dutch and Hosea will kill him if he tells them, it’s that he never intended for you to get hurt during his little prank. He has to fix this.

*****************************************************

You’re tied up to a post in the middle of a paddock, the sun unforgivingly beating down on you. Your throat cracks with nearly every breath, desperate for water. Your skin screams for shade and sweat glides down your back beneath your shirt. During the last hour, your head has started to pound. 

When you’d gotten to the cabin last night, you believed, based on the thick coating of dust on every surface, that it hadn’t been occupied in several months. However, shortly after you’d fallen asleep, three men broke into it and captured you. You tried giving them a hard fight, but as they were bigger than you (and there were more than you), it didn’t take them too much effort to subdue you. 

When they managed to get you tied up and thrown over the back of one of their horses, they discussed a little. You couldn’t really understand them, as two of them spoke quickly in Spanish. The third, although being a white man, also spoke their language, though his was more broken as though he didn’t quite have a handle on it. After a few minutes, they mounted up and rode off, leaving all your things behind. As they cantered away, your hat fell from your head. 

A few hours later, your gut heaving painfully from being thrown over the horse’s rear, the trio slowed down and you saw in the darkness a small house and a large barn with several paddocks outside of it. As the group approached the property, more men came out, speaking again in Spanish. A few of the white members traded some words in English and it became clear what they were going to do. They were going to try and sell you as you were still young and desirable to a great number of men. 

Your blood pumped hard in your ears and you tried to break free or squirm out of your bonds, but they were too tight. One of the men grabbed you and you began thrashing and screaming, kicking him several times in the thighs and stomach. 

“Este tiene una pelea en ella. Hagamos que tenga sed,” he said. The others chuckled and nodded their heads. 

The man carried you into one of the smaller paddocks that had a large pole staked into the sun-baked earth. The ropes around your hands were cut just long enough that he and one of his companions could swing your arms behind you and tie them back together. It became quickly clear that the only way to free yourself was to try and attract the attention of anyone who was nearby, so you started to scream. 

“Cállate!” one of the men yelled and held a knife to your throat as tears slid down your cheeks. 

“No, déjala gritar,” said a particularly tall man. You gathered from his stance and his dusty clothes that he might very well be the leader of these men. “Se cansará, y no hay nadie aquí para escucharla.” 

The man holding the knife to your throat backed off and they all went back into the house or the barn. You knew you only had a few hours until the sun rose, so your best bet at escaping was now while you still had the strength and energy. However, those hours slid by quickly, and you hadn’t gotten anywhere. You’d twisted your arms, rubbing your wrists raw, but the rope held tightly. You’d screamed, but just like the tall man had said (though you hadn’t understood him), you screamed yourself hoarse. 

This is where you are now, trapped, being forced to await your inevitable fate. Not once have any of the men come out to check on you. Occasionally one will come out of the barn or the house and go to the other building, or step over to the wall of a small plateau to take a piss, but none of them ever interact or even seem to take notice of you. Sometimes you’ll hear one of them yell from the buildings, but other than that, all is quiet. 

As the day wears on, you wonder what the hell they’re waiting for. If they intend to sell you, why don’t they just drag you away. You almost don’t care anymore, you just want to get out of this sun. 

At one point, a vulture soars overhead and lands ominously on the roof of the barn, peering down at you with a liquid black eye. He stays there for a long time too, almost as though waiting to see if you’ll die. You know you won’t though. Not today anyways. Despite this horrendous torture, you’re not so dehydrated as to expire. If you’re in this same state in two days, it will be different, but you’re not there yet. One of the men shouts loudly inside the barn and the vulture takes flight. 

Finally, gratefully, the sun dips down to the horizon. Your mind wanders back to Arthur and how he just left you. Even though you’ve every reason to, you don’t hate him. Sure, you’re angry and hurt that he just disappeared during the night, leaving you completely alone. You’d looked up to him during these past few weeks. Despite being only a few years older than you, he had so much more knowledge and he had such a cool, collected attitude that you admired. Not only that, but he was good looking, even though you know he’s involved with another girl. Still, as your burnt skin aches and your wrists crack with dried blood, you can’t hate him. Hell, you would’ve probably done the same thing were you in his shoes. 

Stars flicker in the sky above as the horizon grows darker. As the air cools, you feel a slight surge in energy and you try to wriggle yourself free again. While you squirm, you realize if you angle your right hand in a flat shape and don’t clench your hand or wrist, you might be able to slip free. You do so and your hand begins to slide out. The rope catches at the widest part of your hand where your thumb grows out of your hand, but you angle it in such a way that the rope continues up and over. Finally, your arms fall loose. You’re free. 

You fall onto your hands and knees for a moment. Your legs are exhausted from being forced into the crouched position for so long and your feet have gone numb. You give yourself one minute to recollect yourself, then you stand up and start walking to the fence farthest away from the barn. 

Just as you’re climbing the fence, the barn door opens and you hear someone yell at you. As quickly as you can manage, you start running, but the whole group is aware now. They charge after you and two of them swing lassos around you. A shrill scream leaves your throat as you fall to the ground, the ropes tightening around your elbows, pinning them to your body. 

“Ah, still have fight in you,” one of the men says in a thick accent. He chuckles beneath his thick mustache. 

The tall leader glares down at you with a nasty smile. “Átala de nuevo, pero hazlo mejor. Asegúrate de que no pueda escapar esta vez.” The others nod and agree. The leader bends his knees to look you in the eyes. “Try to escape again, we will show you what we will sell you for.” 

A sickening chuckle goes around the circle from all the men. You can do nothing but try and look angrily back at him, though you’re terrified. He smiles, puts a cigar in his throat, and beckons to the two men holding you with ropes. 

Just as they bend to pick you up, a deafening bang echoes not far off and one of the men’s heads shoots out a thick stream of blood. He stumbles and falls, but just as the others are turning to look at the source of his death, another one falls, clutching his neck. You hear a horse thundering towards you, roaring as your captors return fire. You can’t see who it is through the tangles of legs between you and your rescuer, but a spark of hope flickers in your chest. 

As more men topple, you get the urge to fight. You start kicking the men closest to you, knocking them down and making them easy targets. You smash your heel into the ankle of one of the men holding your ropes. He falls and you climb onto him, slamming your fist into his face over and over. 

Just as the last of the men fall, you’re suddenly yanked from the man you’re beating. A thick arm goes around your neck and the barrel of a pistol gets shoved to your temple. 

“Drop your gun!” the tall man says. “You want her dead?” 

This is the first time you’ve been given the chance to look at your savior and your eyes land on Arthur. He looks angry and worried at the same time, his pistol pointed at the man. 

“Let her go,” he tells the man, who just chuckles. 

“I have the upper hand, chico. I make the rules. You want her alive? Drop your gun!”

Arthur complies and throws down his gun. The man’s finger fiddles a bit with the trigger and he laughs again.

“Good. I’ll give it to you, hijo. You can shoot real well. If it wasn’t my men dead, I’d invite you to my gang.” 

“And what gang is that?” he snarls. 

“Del Lobos, chico. I know you’ve heard of us.” 

Of course, the Del Lobos. The gang made of Mexicans and Californians looking to seize power after they themselves were stripped of their own. Honestly you’re surprised it’s taken you this long to run into them. Seems that most people who live south of Blackwater have dealt with them. Arthur’s eyes betray that he’s certainly heard of them. 

“Just let her go, buddy. She ain’t done nothin’ to you.” 

“Why she so important?” the tall man demands.

“Because… she’s my family. I just want to bring her home.” 

The tall man makes a mocking, simpering sound and then laughs again. “So sweet. Familia. Greatest strength there is, and yet the greatest weapon. But… I don’t want to let her go. She’s… how you say… valiosa. People pay lots of money.” 

Arthur’s eyes narrow. You know he won’t have any chance to save you if you just stand here and let yourself be a damsel in distress. Before Arthur has the chance to respond, you pick up your foot and slam it against the man’s shin. His hold on you loosens and his gun points up in the air as he cries out in surprise and pain. 

“Maldita sea!” he yells and Arthur takes the distraction, pulling out a knife and throwing it. His aim is true and the knife plunges into the man’s eye, throwing his head back as you duck and break out of his grip. 

When the man falls, gurgling as he dies, you look at Arthur, breathing heavily. He picks up his pistol and holsters it. Then, with a guilty expression, he looks at you. 

“Are… are you okay?” 

“Yeah, no thanks to you I might add.” 

He swallows. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really leave. I had my eye on you the whole time. Well, most of the time anyways. Thought.... Thought it might be interestin’ to see how you faired on your own.” 

“So me getting kidnapped, beaten and threatened to be sold was interesting to you, was it?” you snarl, your anger picking up. 

“No, it wasn’t. I didn’t think this would happen. Here.” From his satchel he pulls out a waterskin, handing it to you. You snatch it from him and drink greedily. While you’re drinking, he goes over to the man’s corpse and pulls out his knife, wiping it clean on the man’s clothes. 

Once you’ve had your fill of water, you hand Arthur his waterskin back and look around. By his horse you see yours not far behind. “Thanks for… for getting her. Saves me the trouble of having to track her down.” 

Arthur just grunts in response. “Well come on. Think we’ve had enough of an adventure.” 

The two of you mount up and begin riding off. As you leave the property of dead men behind, Arthur turns to you. 

“You aren’t going to tell Dutch and Hosea about this, are you?” 

How dare he ask you this? You nearly died back there, and if you hadn’t been killed and if Arthur hadn’t showed up, you’d have lost your freedom. 

Arthur looks at you with a sad expression. “I’m really sorry about all this. I… I don’t know why I thought leaving you alone out here was a good idea. Guess… with the way Dutch and Hosea talk about ya, it’s like you can’t do nothing wrong. Maybe I just wanted to prove I was better at somethin’ than you.” 

“Better at something?” you say. “Arthur, I’ve been idolizing just about everything you do for weeks now! I can barely hold a gun while you just shot like eight guys on your own back there. You can do a million things I can’t, and even the stuff I can do, you can do better.”

He sighs and looks ahead. “Don’t seem that way with how they talk about ya.” 

“Arthur, I don’t want to be the golden child in the gang, I really don’t. But I can’t control how they act over me. But… I won’t tell them about this.” 

He visibly relaxes and thanks you. 

“But can I ask,” you say, “why did you go to all this trouble to save me? It would’ve been easy enough to go home and tell the others that I’d just run off or something like that.” 

He sighs. “Because that wouldn’t be right. I… I couldn’t let you be killed by those men if I knew I could do something about it. I already have enough sins to carry, I don’t need to add your death to that list. Besides, you’re… you’re my family, miss. You, Dutch, Hosea, Susan… John. You’re my family. Sure, we ain’t always gonna get along, but no family does. Besides, I’d rather have you part of it than not.” 

You smile at him, your heart flooding with warmth and affection. That was the first time you felt something for him that was more than just admiration or idolization. 

You sit now on the bed, Arthur sleeping next to you. You’ve been dating him for a few months now, but it’s hard to think that you’ve known the outlaw for nearly twenty years. They haven’t been easy either, secretly being in love with him and watching him prance after Mary, finding out about Eliza and his son Isaac and then their deaths. 

Arthur’s grown remarkably since you were captured by the Del Lobos, and not just physically. He developed an extremely strong sense of loyalty towards Dutch, Hosea, you and even John, though he was badly hurt when John disappeared for a year after Jack was born. The gang’s grown remarkably since too, adding over a dozen more people. 

Arthur stirs awake beside you, rolling over to expose his strong chest. You smile when he looks up at you and sighs sleepily. 

“What you doin’?” he groans. 

“Just writing,” you say, closing your journal. Another habit you picked up from him. He puts his hand on your back and you lay down, plopping your head onto his chest after kissing his neck. He sighs again, his arm settling over you. 

“What you writin’ about?” 

“Nothing much. But you remember that first camping trip we took?” 

Arthur groans and chuckles a bit. “Oh God. That was awful. I don’t know why you liked me so much. I was the biggest ass.” 

“Maybe. But I thought you were cool. And maybe I kinda wanted to be like you.” 

“At least you were nice enough never to tell Dutch and Hosea.” 

You chuckle and slide your hand over his, which is resting on his stomach. You place a soft kiss over his heart and settle down to get some sleep. 

“Do you have to do this job in Blackwater tomorrow?” you ask. 

“Darlin’, I told ya. Hosea and I ain’t doin’ the ferry job. We’re just goin’ to town, gonna try workin’ on that real estate scam and keep an eye on things while Dutch and the others work on the boat.” 

“Mmm, good. Somethin’ doesn’t feel right about this job,” you say. “Just… promise me you’ll come home safe?” 

You look up at him. He can’t help but melt at your large eyes. He kisses your forehead. “I promise, sweetheart.”