adrenaline courses through his veins - he can practically hear his own heartbeat as it thuds against the cage of his ribs. he was sure as hell never going to hear the end of this. just an easy job, he’d assured arthur. a rich old lady sitting on a fat stack of cash, heading to saint denis in the middle of the night to gamble it all away at the poker tables - however his drunken “friend” had neglected to mention she’d hired escorts. a cover was blown, too many shots were fired, and suddenly he and arthur found themselves tossed from their horses and running into the thick of the forest.

           he’s not looking ahead for just a moment - just one - tossing his head back to check for pursuers, and he slams into something heavy, smelly, and... loud? ( thank god it’s just arthur. )

           “  morgan? what the hell?

                  i told you to go west, dammit, west!  

      he stands up, and there’s a gun aimed at his head.

      this sure as hell ain’t something john marston is new to - folks have been pointing guns at him since he could hold one with half a speck of competence himself, and half the time they’ve fired. ( at least he’s been fast enough to duck. ) his hands raise, empty, save for the string of pearls in his hand that he’d taken from the lockbox of the station wagon.

        “  this thing was turned over when i got here, i swear.

     “  got a minute, doc?  ”

     his tone is upbeat, friendly - the sort that the cowboy uses in casual conversation. his posture, unfortunately, is anything but - jesse is leaning heavily, his mechanical arm used to prop himself up against the doorjamb as much as his gut wound will let him while his flesh and bone fingers attempt to contain some of the bleeding.

                                   he’s been injured. quite badly.

    @warriorhardt​ said . . .

                                               "why do you have a gun?" for fareeha.

   || angsty starters. || accepting.

     small, thin fingers grip the plastic stock of the nerf gun, a fiercely determined look in the child’s eye as she holds a finger to her lips, nose scrunching in a rather impressive snarl for a twelve year old. a singular shake of her head towards the break room draws attention to a peacefully sitting ana amari, simply trying to have some tea and a peaceful five minutes out of her day.

          unfortunately for her, her dear daughter is planning an ambush.

   @gatheredchaos​ asked a hell of a long time ago . . .

                      “ i can be subtle. but it’s going to be expensive. “ Rafe @ Nate bc yeah

  || a meme i can’t find || i’m bad lol

     he’s silent for a moment, glancing between rafe and the suit he had chosen to wear. the pure white was not only a bit of a ridiculous flex ( everyone gets it, rafe, you can eat shrimp cocktail without spilling any marinara, good for you ), but flashy in one of the worst ways . . . it was memorable.

          “  y’know, a cheap jacket from target is like thirty bucks.