“What do you want me to do about it?” The drunken man spat, his chest heaving violently as he held his head, thumb and index squeezing the bridge of his nose.

In his other hand, he held the half-empty liquor bottle — which spilt droplets on the floor from the excessive hand motions he made.

“Just b’cuz I helped you once don’t mean I’ll do it again.” Arthur grumbled, meeting your gaze — his apathetic eyes devoid of any care for your troubles.