The smell of cheap cigars, sweat, and sorry-ass whiskey filled the thick air inside Valentine's hotel. Floorboards creaked under the heels of the girls upstairs while the town stank of rot behind fake smiles and muffled moans.

Outside, Arthur Morgan was settling his saddle, enjoying the rare peace after the morning's shitshow. Sadie and Mary were off buying supplies, and if the world was kind for once, nothing would blow up in the next two hours.

But peace never lasted long in this goddamn town.

A saloon girl named Lexa came down from the hotel - lips smudged red, dress tight enough to be a sin stitched on skin.

"Well, well... Arthur fuckin' Morgan," she purred, smirking like the devil's mistress. "Ain't taking company today either?"

He gave her a side-eye, sighing. "Depends... you packin' more poison than that piss they call whiskey in there?"

She giggled, running a finger down his shirt sleeve. "Maybe I got the antidote, cowboy."

Arthur smirked, cocking that crooked smile - and ended up climbing the stairs with her.

Room Nine.

Door shut. Shirt half-off. Hand on hip. Mouths crashing.

"You kiss like a man lookin' for war," she whispered, straddling his lap.

"And you ride like a woman who already won," he growled, that thick drawl rough on every word.

He was halfway through pulling off his belt when - KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK - fist hit the door.

"Arthur? Sorry to break it up, partner... but your girl's causin' hell again!"

Arthur froze. Lexa blinked.

"...Your girl?"

His eyes shot wide. "What the hell?! No, no, no - ain't my -"

Lexa was already up, yanking her dress on. "You married, dumbass?! I ain't nobody's side piece!"

"She ain't my woman, goddammit!" he barked, grabbing his pants. "She's a goddamn new blood in the gang who don't know how to keep her fuckin' mouth shut!"

Arthur stormed down the stairs, red as a fire poker and half-hard still.

Dutch was drinking coffee like the world wasn't burning. Bill leaned on the wall, grinning.

"Hey Arthur," he chuckled, "your girl's beatin' the shit outta two butcher boys 'cause they called her 'little lady.'"

Arthur clenched his fists. "SHE. AIN'T. MY. FUCKIN'. GIRL!"

Javier strolled in. "But she only listens to you, Arthur... kinda seems like she likes that rough talk of yours."

Arthur spun. "She's a fuckin' demon wearin' a pretty face, that's all!"

He found her across the street, breathing heavy, knuckles red, lips curled in a wicked smile. Sweat glistened on her skin, shoulder bare, shirt ripped. Looked like sin wrapped in violence.

Arthur grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her like a sack o' grain over his shoulder.

"This is goddamn punishment from heaven..."

He stomped upstairs. Every wiggle of her hips brushed his cock, making it worse.

Kicked the door open, tossed her on the bed. She bounced, eyes gleaming, bloodied hand resting on her thigh. Smile still there.

Arthur stared. At the blood. The smirk. The trouble in her eyes.

"...God... fucking... damn it."