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Local man gets wasted and flirts with anything that moves

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“Miss Tilly, you are looking might fine tonight.” The blonde gives his best grin, to which Tilly and a few of the other girls giggle at.

“Oh ,Arthur. You’re drunk.” She says in reply.

Arthur extends both arms on either side of himself, his hat slipping just the tiniest bit low. “That I am, but you are still a sight to be seen.”

“Here he goes.” Bill groans out, taking a swig of his own drink. They had had a successful run today. Nothing too flashy. Just a stagecoach, that just so happened to have a couple crates of fine brandy stowed away. To which the whole camp was happily taking part of.

“I real Casanova”, Hosea grins at them from the other side of the fire.

“Never fails.” Karen laughs as her hand is gently raised with Arthur poised to kiss it. “Where’s all this charm go when you’re sober, huh?” She raises her eyebrow at him, but he just laughs. His face is flushed, but there’s an easiness to him that he rarely has outside of drinking.

“I’ll have you know, mam. That I.” He hiccups and raises a hand over his breast. “am a gentleman.”

Most of the girls giggle at him as he continues to shamelessly flirt with each and every person that crosses his line of sight.

John smiles into his drink as Abigail rolls her eyes playfully.


They’ve been on a streak of luck lately, and the overall morale of the gang is high. They’ve even been in town a couple of times to share a drink at the saloon. The guys are throwing back shots of moonshine, voices loud and faces red.

Arthur is laughing and clinking glasses with some stranger. The new comer grins at him, before throwing back his own glass, slamming it down on the counter with a satisfying clank. He makes a face, to which Arthur laughs and throws his arm around his shoulders. “Atta Boy!” His other hand is patting the other man on the chest. “a solid chest like this needs some hair on it!”

Arthur’s words are slurred at the ends, but the other man doesn’t seem to mind. His face even redder than before if possible. “I suppose so.” He laughs out.

“Suppose? Nice strapping boy like you probably have the whole damn town after him!” Arthur grins and pulls him in close.

Lenny laughs and pulls Arthur off the poor guy. “Okay okay! Leave the kid alone!”

Arthur grins and pulls Lenny in, cradling each side of his neck. “Lenny!” He turns back to the first guy and points at Lenny. “Look at this handsome fella!”

There’s another round of drinks, and John groans as he has to lead the band of drunks back to the camp. He being the only one who’s a little less pissed, he hitches Arthur’s, Lenny’s, and Uncle’s horses to each other. Very slowly trekking their way along. Thank god they hadn’t gotten mugged on the way.


It was by no means a secret that one Mr. Arthur Morgan was a flirt when he was drunk, but he was being a down right scoundrel this time.

The girls had laughed him off, but Charles was caught in the blonde’s sights. The man getting more and more uncomfortable as Arthur started to lay on the endearments.

It was when Arthur tried to pull Charles into his lap, that Abigail nudged him and gave a pointed look. John huffed. “What?”

Abigail scowls at him, and he sighs in defeat. He really can’t day no to that woman.

Wiping his hands on his pants, John walks over to where Arthur is trying to get Charles to sit on his knee. “Alright, alright. That’s enough you ol drunk.”

Arthur gives him a confused look, and in that confusion, Charles is able to slip away, shooting John a grateful look. Pouting, the blonde goes to take another gulp of his drink, but John snatches the bottle out of his hand. “I think you’ve had enough.” He puts as much sternness as he can muster considering he was also a bit tipsy.

There’s a couple of “oooohss” heard from various gang members, but John ignores them.

“Ah, come on John. Why you got to be like that?” The pout is on full force, and it looks just this side of charming, before a smirk slides across that ruggedly handsome face. “You act all mean, but you’re nothing but a pussy cat, aren’t ya, John?”

“What? You trying to pick a fight, Morgan?”

Shaking his head, Arthur reaches out and grasps the sides of John’s hips. “you spitting like a cat, but you ain’t nothing but a real sweet thing.” The words are said with a drawl that makes heat creep up John’s face.

“Oh lord, here he goes again.” Someone says and John feels frozen as he looks into Arthur’s eyes. Just a bit too glassy, but looking like the damn night sky.

“Sweet as pie, I figure. Ain;t that right, Sweetheart?”

There’s a couple wolf whistles and John steps out of those hands. “Go sober up, Morgan!” He stalks off, face red as all hell.

There’s laughing and cheering, but John really wants to punch a tree.

He groans and presses his hand against his temple. The light behind his eyelids is just this side of painful, and when he sits up, there’s the strongest urge to throw up.

“Jesus, how much did I drink?” He grumbles, head pounding.

“Just about all the alcohol in the state, I’d bet.” He hears someone say, and turns slowly to face the entrance of his tent.


John is standing against the wagon, arms crossed over his chest, nods.

He groans and rubs a hand over his face. “Ugh, did I do anything stupid?”

Abigail pops her head out from behind John, grinning at the pitiful sight the blonde made. “just being the old flirt you are.” She pats John on the back. “Even gave our boy John here a go at it.” John shoots her a look.

“Is that so?” he chuckles.

“Yes, sir. You were calling him all these sweet things. Any girl would have been swooning.”

Arthur grins at them. “John, a sweet thing? That can’t be right. Must have been gone.”

John storms off. Abigail giggling.

Dutch shares a look with Hosea as they sip their coffee, when they See Arthur chase after John across the camp site.

“Come on now! Fine! You’re the sweetest thing I ever did see! Feel better?” Arthur grins.

John just picks up the pace, face red. “Shut up, Morgan!”