Hands pressed firmly together, you watched Arthur as he attempted to pray, although you were sure he was doing it incorrectly. Being as sick as he was, you weren't shocked at his attempt to reconnect with whatever deity he was thinking of, although you could only imagine that he was praying for anybody beyond himself.

You sat beside him awkwardly , your hands holding onto the edge of that church pew, eyes watching him, almost admiring the way his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. It lasted a minute at the most, but you knew this meant something to him. The moment he was finished, he looked to you. A small chuckle escaped him, as if he realised how odd it was "What am I doing?" It was more of a statement than a question.