Playing Dangerous ? ||RDR2 // Arthur Morgan X Reader||

chapter 17; ultraviolence

After a long ride up the quiet street, lined with it's leafless trees and clean grey cobbles, the men had rounded a corner into the pretty cul-de-sac. It was well maintained, the houses stood grand at the edge of the curbs- spelling tales of wealth and fortune for the lucky people who lived in such structures.

Looking all around himself, Arthur gazed in awe at all of these houses. Each one stood proud, with beautiful details like exterior beams and large bay windows, gorgeous gardens and beautiful gates enclosing the properties.

"How do we know which one is Brontes'?" John asked Dutch, his voice still irritated. The three men's heads snapped in the various directions – scanning each property.

There was house however, that stood out particularly well to Arthur. It was the most grandiose property on the street, it stood as a novel three stories high – with palatial  elements to its build. With each brick, it seemed to emanate an illustrious aura. His blue eyes flickered to each of the windows, just out of a curiosity.

"I think this one has to be the mayor's." Arthur informed, and therefore spun Phantom to face the house directly opposite.

It was a similar build in regards to its esteemed architecture and regal aura, but didn't quite match the level of beauty of the home opposite.

"So this must be Brontes'." Arthur gathered, and Dutch was quick to agree.

"Seems that way, come along gentleman." He instigated, and began to lead the way across the street.

The cul-de-sac was eerily quiet, with the closed in square of houses – each clop of the horses' hooves seemed to echo and reverberate around them. It was unsettlingly silent.

Reaching the silver gates, the men left the horses tethered by the park and, by Dutch's lead, approached the guards at the gate. The armed security looked at these three evident country folk with an eye filled with suspicion.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen." Dutch started, that charming tone gracing his voice, "I'm told Mr Bronte can be found here?" he asked, his grip wrapping around the bars of the gates. The guards eyed Dutch up in a disgusted fashion, as if some mangey dog was about to break in.

"Mr Bronte is to be met by appointment only." The guard responded, voice fogged by a very heavy Italian accent. This was not what Dutch had wanted to hear, and he flashed a charming smile.

"Gentleman please, me and my associates here have travelled a long way today-" he attempted to sway them, but it seemed even his most heavy onslaught of charm was not enough to persuade these stony-faced guards.

"I do not care. Mr Bronte is by appointment only." The guard stressed, but unbeknownst to them – a certain regally wrapped up man had stepped onto his porch, trussed up in his dressing gown and slippers and a small hat – the pyjamas were regal enough for him to look smart.

He was eyeing the three men at his gate, smoking a fat brown cigar slowly.

"Aspettate." The man purred in his Italian accent, descending the steps from his porch and making his way down the garden path in his slippers. Dutch's eyes looked more hopeful than ever now, whilst John and Arthur hung back in slight embarrassment of the overly eager behaviour of their mentor.

"Mr Bronte?" Dutch asked, and earned a slow nod from the wealthy man before him.

"Yes? Who are you? How can I help?" the Italian questioned, his tone was slow – as if he had all the time in the world.

"Mr Bronte, me and my friends here have heard some good things about you. We wished to discuss some things regarding potential business." Dutch said simply, and Bronte's guards looked to their master letting him know it was very much his choice if he wanted to let them in.