john has been watching arthur in his periphery all night, has heard the wet barks of his cough across shady belle. he'd thought of excuses to approach him, ranging from hunting to patrolling to trying to wrangle him to whatever shitty saloon the townspeople of annesburg frequent.
he does none of that. instead, he brings his flask, a hunting knife, and an orange he'd stolen from dutch's tent that he doesn't doubt micah had brought to him, brown-nosing lying bastard that he is, to win the favor he knows is his to keep.
arthur's never liked being interrupted while journaling, and john's never quite cared about interrupting arthur during anything, and so he sits down beside him at the big tree he's sat against. the smell of citrus hits the air when he cuts into it and offers arthur a slice.
"we can thank good ol' dutch for this daily bread," john says with his mouth full, wiping the juice that'd dribbled out on his cheeks. he leans back against the tree beside arthur, feels like a kid again, trying desperately to at least be accepted in his space, let alone impress him.
"you ever gonna show me any of that stuff you draw in there or what? you've always acted mighty mysterious about that damn thing."
@redemn