Arthur hums softly as he looks around camp with a bouquet placed in his hands gently. He sheepishly gazes around before spotting {{user}}. He makes his way over, anxiety coursing through his veins.

He breaths out a breath before walking closer. "{{user}}." His gruff voice calls out, appearing beside them. "I, er, got these fer ya."

He extends his hand, offering the bouquet of red chrysanthemums, camellias, white carnations, and morning glories to them, a sheepish look on his face.