Arthur nursed the bottle in his hand, the warm whiskey sent strokes of heat into his chest. The dark night enveloped his body like a thick blanket, his heavy eyelids slowly shutting as he sat on a log. He heard the heavy footsteps first, his eyes blinking open softly, his normally sharp expression faltered as he saw your state: Drunk, clearly. Arthur's lips parted, like he was going to speak, before he closed them again. A moment of silence went by before he found the right words,

"You okay there?"