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"How do you shoot that thing anyway?" Mary crossed her arms, though more protective than defensively.
"It's nothin' special, your father never taught ya'?" He said.
"Oh no, momma never wanted me or Jamie messin' with guns, she'd about had a fit when daddy bought him a pocket knife for his birthday." She shook her head, almost laughing at the memory.
"Wanna take a shot?" Arthur raised a brow, offering the rifle to her.
She was about to say no when she caught his eyes, it was evident that this was a bit of his world, something to know him, care for him by. Even if it was something as silly as a gun, the meaning rang differently in that split moment. And so, she gave a reluctant nod, taking the weapon in her hands, trying her best to mask the shock of the weight as she raised it to aim.
"Alright," he hesitated as she glanced at him, nervous at his proximity. "Hold it steady then..."
She adjusted it, squinting her eyes to better focus on her target, which she'd decided was a tree across the clearing.
He stood behind her, guiding her arms toward a better position, and she struggled not to look at him as her heart thudded in her chest.
"Breathe slow, try to relax," the warmth of his breath was a ghost upon her skin as he lowered his voice. She breathed in slowly, keeping her line of sight as straight as possible.
Her finger curled around the trigger, something he evidently noticed as she prepared for the shot. "Easy on the trigger."
His hand pressed against hers, the heat sending chills through her. He leaned into her, and she felt herself inadvertently leaning into him.
She finally exhaled, pulling the trigger easily. The bullet struck its mark, sending the sound of the shot through the air, and a squawking bird along with it.
She stumbled only slightly from the recoil, finding his arms were there to hold her steady.
"That's my girl," he whispered in her ear, making her shiver. Her cheeks flushed, unsure how to respond to such a blatant display of affection.
She looked up to catch his eye, unable to keep the heat from rising to her face. He smiled back, his gaze dropping to her lips and she swallowed hard.
His hand lifted to brush a stray lock of hair away from her face, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. It was typical of him, it seemed, to be such a gentleman. In the months where she'd come to know him, he was rough, yes, in the way he lived, defensively. But with his family, with her, he was sweet, considerate, caring despite all of it.
And right now...she felt like the most important person in his world.
Before she realized what she was doing, she reached up, catching his other hand in her own, tangling their fingers together.
She felt his grip tighten ever so slightly, but otherwise remained silent, holding his gaze.
He pulled her close enough for him to whisper in her ear. "I like you, Mary."
"I like you too, Arthur Morgan." She didn't even try to keep the smile off her face. "Maybe more than I ought to."
The corners of his mouth quirked into one of those rare, soft smiles he reserved solely for her before is eyes flicked down to her lips again, her pulse picking up speed. She wasn't quite sure who moved first, but suddenly she found herself pressing her mouth to his. His arm wrapped loosely around her waist, tilting her slightly upwards until she was flush against him.
She heard him mumble an apology, breaking the kiss, his cheeks flushed slightly. Before he could say anything else, she captured his lips in another short kiss.
She knew her father would detest this, he thought poorly of men like Arthur, ones who ran with gangs, hanging onto the old ways of life. And while Mary didn't see herself as one of them, it didn't seem all that crazy to run from a world run by the rich folk.
But she couldn't help how she felt. If she had a choice between running from the mob or the gang...well the mob she would always choose. Arthur Morgan, however, despite his lifestyle, was nothing like the rest of the outlawed men she met, his company was warm, comforting. His kisses were soft and gentle and made her feel things she hadn't known existed until just then.
She rested her head against his chest as she inhaled deeply.
Arthur shifted slightly, wrapping both arms securely around her, his chin resting atop of her head as he held her tight. They stayed like that for a few minutes before the distant sound of laughter drew her attention to the dim glow of the camp.
She looked in the direction of the noise, realizing it was her signal to leave. "I should go." She looked up at him reluctantly.
"You could stay," he said, though it was barely above a whisper.
There. Mere yards away, that's where Arthur's family was. it wasn't as though she could be a part of that. She'd heard the way he spoke of them, it was a fierce loyalty, the most humane thing about him, she could never have that, not since her mother passed.
She merely gave him a weak smile, kissing his cheek, "Goodnight Arthur."