Arthur was sat in his tent, journal in hand and a pencil in the other, scribbling away at the pages. He was just sketching random and indistinct figures at first but was subconsciously morphing it into something familiar. Well, someone. He sighed once he broke from his trance and caught himself drawing you, absolutely perfect down to every last mole. That’s the sixth time this week. It had become a habit and he hadn’t a clue as to why. But he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out.