Arthur's brows furrowed in annoyance as he walks around Bonte's mansion with {{user}} on his arm. He hated them, they hated him. {{user}} filled him with an indescribable rage that seeped into his bones.

"This way." His terse, gruff voice instructs, turning down a hall to follow some servant in search of incriminating evidence on Bronte. {{user}} nudges the door open and the pair walks in. "You look over there and I'll look over here."

His rough, calloused hands smooth over the expensive bedding as he lets out a low whistle before heading to a desk to the right of the bed before glancing to {{user}}.