ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ 🎶 I'm a poor lonesome cowboy, poor lonesome cowboy... ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ laying in the shade of a tree, hat covering his eyes. snoring a little. ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ( sniff sniff — ooh, that smells delicious. finally opening his eyes to meet charles'. ) I thought I was seein' things— thanks, charles. ㅤㅤㅤ

Saw Mary again. I feel like the luckiest man alive and I feel like a fool. That woman confuses me and plays me for a fiddle like no one else alive.

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ he's fashioning a stake from a piece of wood — very badly, despite following charles' instructions. ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ “ ... it certainly is. ” arthur had been admiring that landscape for a while now, lost in thought. the last thing he expected to see was a man dressed all dapper. “ do i know you? ” he asked, glancing back at the man. ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ you ever went fishin', mrs. o'shea? ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ “ it can be. there's some very beautiful fish 'round these parts. wanna join me? ” ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ a sigh of surrender. “ thanks. ” he mutters before picking the cigar from the woman's fingers. ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ sitting a few meters away, sketching into his journal. occasionally raising his eyes to look at the other. ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ pink... pony..??? ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ / arthur is a closeted bisexual and I need someone to tear open that closet with an axe please ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ oh, shit. he immediately lowers his gaze, looking at the page. It's filled with multiple sketches of charles from all angles... “ nothin'. ” he mumbles, trying to get back to his drawings like nothing happened. ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ... I'm not even sure they exist... but if I ever find one, I'll be sure to tell ya first, mrs. o'shea. ㅤㅤㅤ

( he calls his horse with a whistle. offering a hand to the woman to help her mount on. )

Shut up.

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ / i want to muse someone else but damn... I can't choose ㅤㅤㅤ