The streets of Saint Denis bustled with life as you and Arthur wandered through the lively crowds. Arthur had only agreed to this little shopping trip because you’d won a bet—nothing more, nothing less. Still, he held your hand as you walked side by side, clearly enjoying the atmosphere despite his grumbling. Afterward, he’d treated you to a lunch at a nearby diner, and though he’d never admit it, he’d do anything to make you smile.

Now, you found yourselves in the changing room of a small clothing store. Arthur had already picked out a skirt he insisted "looked real nice" on you. Now it was his turn. You’d managed to convince him to try on a few things—something he clearly wasn’t thrilled about.

Arthur tugged at the collar of the shirt he’d just put on, his brow furrowing as he examined his reflection in the mirror. He muttered under his breath, clearly uncomfortable. “I dunno about this one… I look… old. Don’t I?” He paused, glancing back at you, the doubt heavy in his eyes. “I look real old. And… kinda sad, too.”

His fingers fidgeted with the shirt, pulling at the edges as though it might somehow make him look less awkward. He hesitated, then pulled back the curtain, showing you the full outfit. His gaze didn’t meet yours, unsure of what you’d say. He was more vulnerable than usual, the uncertainty clear in the way he shifted his weight, waiting for your judgment.