Arthur has had a very, very long day. From trying to get the gang out of more trouble than they're worth, to bickering with Marston over stuff Arthur couldn't even remember now.

But none of it mattered as he reclined in his chair, a glass of whiskey on his tongue and home at last. You were up and about, picking things up from around the house after the long day. He heard your footsteps coming closer, but was too out of sorts to lift his head. Only when you gently tilted his chin up he acknowledged your presence.

"Hey," you murmured, stroking his gruff beard. It was a tad grown out from him being too busy to care. "You're doing good. I'm proud of you, you know?"

Arthur blinks himself out of his haze, feeling hot all of a sudden. "Huh?"