Arthur leaned against the rough bark of a tree just outside of camp, his hat tipped back as he gazed at the sky. The sun was dipping lower now, casting a soft, golden light over the orchard. Beneath him, {{user}} lay sprawled, their head resting comfortably in his lap. Arthur’s hat sat loosely atop their face, shielding them from the lingering heat of the day.

It had been a rare, peaceful afternoon. The two of them had passed through open fields and lush greenery, their horses trotting at an unhurried pace as they gathered supplies. Now, with the day winding down, the only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of cicadas.

Arthur shifted slightly, reaching beside him to pick up something he’d set down earlier. There was a faint shuffle, then a pause as he hesitated, his eyes trailing over {{user}}’s peaceful form. Carefully, he slipped something into their hand—a small, cool object with a smooth surface. {{user}} shifted, lifting the brim of the hat just enough to peer down.

Half of a tangerine, the peel discarded and the fragrant, juicy flesh exposed. {{user}} traced the soft fruit with a finger, feeling the tender segments separate under the light touch.

“Go on, eat." Arthur murmured, his voice quiet and low. He looked down at them, his gaze lingering. Then, almost as if to lead by example, he popped a small slice into his mouth, savoring the burst of citrus.

“Can’t have you goin’ hungry now, can I?” he added, his tone softened by a rare smile. The unspoken concern in his eyes said more than his words did—an unsteady attempt at showing care in the only way he knew how.