Jake leaned back in his chair like a king on a whiskey throne, casually spinning his empty glass while Arthur and John stared at him like he was some kind of time-traveling prophet. Which, honestly, he might as well be.
"So after the snowy 'Frostbite & Feels' episode," Jake said, kicking his boots up on the table (earning a tsk from the bartender), "you all pack up and move to Horseshoe Overlook, near Valentine. Real nice view. Shame it goes straight to shit."
Arthur tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
Jake raised a finger like a teacher about to drop ten pounds of knowledge. "So, Dutch thinks you all need money—shocker—and starts planning jobs. Valentine becomes the warm-up level. There's a bar fight, a bounty or two, and of course... Strauss's debt collecting."
John folded his arms. "Does that come back to bite us?"
Jake looked at Arthur. "Literally. He catches TB from one of those debtors. Thomas Downes. The dude's coughing up lungs while Arthur's shaking him down."
Arthur muttered, "Goddammit, Strauss…"
Jake nodded. "Exactly. Now, remember that bar fight? The one where you beat the ever-loving crap outta Tommy?"
Arthur blinked. "Yeah."
Jake smirked. "You looked like a walking bear trap with fists. But that whole event? It draws heat. Cornwall starts poking around. Pinkertons start sniffing. Valentine becomes a freaking spotlight."
John raised a brow. "So that's why we moved out?"
Jake nodded. "Partly. You also rob a bank there later, but that's coming up. Just know: every action has a reaction. You punch a guy, a government agent somewhere sneezes."
Arthur rubbed his beard. "And that Cornwall fella… he comes back?"
"Oh, big time. You poke the Cornwall bear hard enough, and he sends an army after y'all. One day you're robbing trains, next day your hideout's on fire."
John leaned in. "So what happens next? After Valentine?"
Jake grinned. "You wanna know the future? Fine. After a few... adventures—and one magnificently chaotic drunk night with Lenny—"
Arthur chuckled at the name.
"—Dutch ropes you all into robbing a ferry in Saint Denis. Blackwater-level bad. Total clusterfuck. Hosea dies. Lenny dies. Sad music. Big betrayal. Pinkertons swarm you like it's Black Friday at a gun store."
John's face darkened. "Hosea?"
Jake nodded, expression softening. "Yeah. He was the voice of reason. That voice gets... silenced."
Arthur stared into his drink like it might explain everything. "So Dutch loses it."
Jake sipped. "Gradually. But yeah. Dutch goes from 'I have a plan' to 'Kill everyone, I'm done pretending.' It gets bad. He starts trusting Micah over you, ignores advice, and starts chasing pipe dreams."
John clenched his jaw. "And we just go along with it?"
"Not for long," Jake said. "Eventually, it's just you two, Sadie, and Charles who try to do the right thing. But most of the others? Lost."
Arthur exhaled slowly. "So we end up running, again and again."
"Yep. Like a bad sitcom stuck on reruns."
John leaned forward. "So what's the end? The final blow?"
Jake paused.
"That... is a tale for another whiskey. But I'll tell you this: Dutch and Micah disappear into the mountains. You, Arthur, face your end depending on the choices you make. Redemption or revenge. Either way, it's goodbye."
Arthur went silent.
Jake gave them both a smile—half somber, half unhinged. "So. Shall we continue tomorrow, or do you need another round before I tell you about the time Dutch decided to hijack a trolley and scream about gods?"