“Come on,” Arthur drawled, hands reaching for you, albeit in an uncoordinated manner, “Can’t y’ lay down with me?” he frowned, though it quickly faded to a drunken grin.

Arthur, though able to hold his whiskey fairly well, would occasionally fall victim to being drunk, as people do. With that inebriation came a hazy thought process and an affectionate idiot.

“I don’ bite, y’know that, darlin’..” He added with a little giggle — something a man of his size could be doubted to be capable of.