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

chapter 17; ultraviolence

"Let the vagabondo in." Bronte chuckled, and the guards cautiously opened the gates.

"Thank you gentlemen." Dutch remarked smugly, clearly thinking he was in with this Italian top-dog and was totally oblivious to the Italian insults Mr Bronte was making with his butlers' regarding the three outlaws.

John and Arthur followed behind Dutch silently, feeling the guard's eyes burning holes through them as they followed Mr Bronte up into the house. Once inside, it was clear to see this man had an abundance of wealth. His walls were decorated with many expensive looking things – from fine art to very nice looking weaponry – it was only right that the guards were becoming nervous that these three outlaws were having such a good long look. They were panicking that they would perhaps want to pick them from the walls and make an escape.

Instead, they followed Mr Bronte inside the front room of the house and sat opposite him on a tiny red love-seat style sofa that barely could fit the three men on it.

"So what exactly do you want to know?" Bronte asked, eyeing the gang members up with a cautious look as he smoked his cigar – gesturing his butler flippantly.

"Dovremmo offrire alcuni degli idioti. (We should offer the idiots some)" Bronte muttered to his butler, who carried the fine case of Cuban cigars over to the outlaws. Of course Dutch was first to dab his hand in there, whilst Arthur and John politely declined. They just wanted to be out of there as soon as possible.

"Well, Mr Bronte. We're quite new round here – I wanna know the best ways of makin' some money." Dutch was very much straight to the point, "Real money." His voice was filled with determination.

This resulted in a laugh from the Italian, who looked over his shoulder at his guards.

"Riesci a credere a questi bastardi? (Can you believe these mongrels?)" He had laughed, turning back to face Dutch, John and Arthur with a slimy smirk that Arthur didn't take too at all. There was this look on his face like he knew he had a perfect plan to play them.

Behind those dark brown eyes, the Italian was formulating a plan. He hated people like Dutch, Arthur and John. He thought of them as stupid, backwards – primitive. He was keen to prove this point, and sneakily make a joke out of all of them.

"I like you, Mr...?" Bronte imposed suddenly, and Dutch quickly responded with a pleased smirk.

"Van Der Linde."

"Yes... Mr Van Der Linde, you remind me of myself." He said, and then started to chuckle to his guards again. "Una versione peggiore di me stesso. (A poorer version of myself)"

"Is that so?" Dutch smiled, thinking this was the greatest revelation ever. It seemed he only wished to see what he wanted to see, which was indication he was easily cosying up to Bronte. Arthur and John were becoming rather frustrated that Dutch seemed none the wiser to the obvious fact Bronte had been making quips – probably nasty ones – to his men.

"Yes." Angelo grinned, toying his cigar between his fingers and crossing one leg over the other whilst he lounged carefree on his luxurious couch. "You have ambition, that is clear to see." He was smirking again, in a way that made Arthur feel a fool. This man gave of the air that he was so much smarter than everyone else.

"You want to see how to get about in this city? I can show you." Bronte started again, sitting forwards and glancing craftily at each of the outlaws'. A smug grin played upon the Italian's lips, as he set the cigar down in the ashtray. "Mayor Lemieux is holding a party this Saturday. The most powerful men in the city shall be there." Bronte chimed, his tone about as charming as a snake about the strike. Not that Dutch could hear that, all he could hear was the opportunity of money.

"You seem a man of purpose, Mr Van Der Linde." Bronte buttered the man up with a false smile, "You and your friends – you can come along, courtesy of me." He said, gesturing his hand in a you should be grateful manner that Arthur didn't take nicely too.

"Oh, well, thank you! That is very kind of you, sir." Dutch smiled, nodding his head in a grateful mannerism.

"Yes – it is a good chance to mix with the most powerful men in the city. No better opportunity for you to put your foot in the door, so to speak." The Italian remarked in a smarmy tone, "Especially with the Mayor."

"Well, we are very grateful for your invitation Mr Bronte, expect to see us there." Dutch accepted, and Arthur had to internalise his apparent uncertainty about the entire thing.  The three men stood from the couch, and the guard were already lingering, ready to escort the men back outside.

"Yes! I hope you men like good food, nice wine, and beautiful women." Bronte smirked, his eyes levelled with a snide grin, his final words before witnessing Dutch, Arthur and John make their way outside.

"Fottuti idioti. (Fucking idiots)" Bronte chuckled to himself, shaking his head at how easy it was to lead those men in. His sparked up another cigar with a satisfied grin, there wasn't anything he loved more than an easy game of smiting some men who he felt needed to be disposed of.

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