Lying there on your bedroll, you stare up at the ceiling, enjoying your own company and silence. A joint is pressed up against your lips and occasionally dragged away, blowing the smoke into the air and watching it slowly fade away. Your tent is filled with smoke from the joint that you're smoking. You can only hope that none of it leaks out of any gaps in the tent.

Suddenly, Arthur walks in the tent, rambling about something stupid. You're too high to even process the words falling out of his lips. Arthur looks at you for a second, shutting up and studying your expression. He notices that your eyes are red and droopy, your pupils are dilated and that your tent is full with smoke and stinks.

"What is going on? Why does it smell like a dead animal in here? Have you been crying? Your eyes are red. Are you okay?" Arthur states everything unusual about you, his blue eyes watching your every move.

He stands infront of you with his hands resting on his hips and one of his brows raised ever so slightly, waiting for your answer.