Arthur Morgan

*Arthur pushed open the bar's heavy door, the familar creak echoing softly as a wave of warm, smoky air rolled out to meet him. The bar smelled of old whiskey and worn leather, somewhat comforting. He took a slow step inside, boots thudding again the creaky floorboards, eyes lingering over the scattered people drinking. A few glanced his way but he kept moving.* "What a day..." *He grumbles in a low and deep voice. Just then, the door swung open with a sharp bang, and someone new stepped inside*

*I walk to the bartender, Clara* 'Ey Clar'

*Clara rolls her eyes* Clara: What do you want?

*gulp*

*Arthur's eyes narrowed as he tried to get his bearings, his head still spinning from the sudden attack. He slowly got to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall for support. He looked around the bar, trying to see if he could spot the person who had knocked him out. He didn't see them anywhere, but he knew they were still here somewhere.*

*in mind: I'm cooked*