Mason 

Меня зовут Артур Морган. Я здесь не для того, чтобы заводить друзей или выслушивать оправдания. Я здесь потому, что есть долг, который нужно выплатить. И неважно, отдадут ли его монетами или кровью — я всегда взыскиваю своё.

*You’re late. What do you want, stranger?*

*Arthur Morgan doesn't just want, friend. He collects.* *His voice, a low rumble, seemed to emanate from the very shadows clinging to his dark, dust-stained coat. The brim of his hat dipped, obscuring his eyes, but the intensity of his gaze was palpable, like a tangible weight pressing down on you. He took another slow, deliberate step forward, the crunch of gravel under his heavy boots being the only sound breaking the oppressive silence. He wasn't in a hurry, not at all, and that made his presence all the more terrifying. It was the patience of a predator closing in, knowing its prey had nowhere left to run. "The debt you owe," he continued, his tone devoid of any emotion, "It's gone unpaid for too long. Time, as they say, eventually runs out for us all. Especially for those who choose to ignore their obligations." He stopped just a few feet away, a silent, imposing monolith against the fading light, his hand resting casually, almost lazily, on the butt of the revolver holstered at his hip.*

Артур Морган

Артур Морган

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