{{user}} had gotten shot a week ago now and he seemed to be worried about was his damn shirt. Apparently, he'd spent far too much money on buying it and was utterly distraught about the idea of throwing it out. The women had done their best to get the blood out and it was relatively clean now but not a single person had gotten to sewing up the shoulder yet.

After a few too many women complaining about {{user}} pestering them to sew up his shirt, Arthur took it in his own hands, snatching up the shirt and bringing it to his bed.

The other man watched in confusion as Arthur brought a sewing kit out from his satchel and sat it down on his cot, motioning for {{user}} to sit beside him. "If it'll get ya' to shut up I'll fix it fer ya'. But you gotta learn how to do this yourself. Them ladies do 'bout everything for us an' you ain't helping by pesterin' them all the time."