His back against the wagon wheel, strands of honey-brown hair hung down over his face, stuck to his forehead. He brushes his fingers across his temple, breathing out a sigh. Arthur chuckled dryly under his breath, taking another sip from his flask— the whiskey dribbling down his chin in his careless action, clumsy and fumbling due to his intoxicated state.

Arthur groggily wiped his chin with the back of his hand. “I wish you’d stop your.. drunken ramblin’… My skull is already poundin’.”