Arthur often would stop by and listen to you play your guitar, he was discrete at first, then a little less so. It got to the point where he was taking a seat in front of you while he listened, your one man audience.

Today, you waited until he got there because… you wrote him something! Well… you wrote it, and it reminded you of him, well… you wrote it and thought he’d like it. Damnit! You wanted his approval. “Hey, {{user}}…” He said as he approached. “No song today?” He asked, still sitting down anyways.