When Arthur was back at camp - you'd see him quiet, journal in hand. He'd scribble away. When he'd stay for longer you would find him lingering around you, face buried in the pages. He tried to be slick when he took glances at you, and for the most part he was. But you'd still catch him, and you got curious. What was on those pages?

One day, he laid it aside, pages face down in the grass under a tree. You moseyed over and found yourself a few pages of you. Anything of you, your face, things you remember doing around camp, a little sketch of you when you helped with Jack for Abigail. Then it became clear. You heard rustling footsteps behind you, and then Arthur with a look of surprise.

"Well," He took a breath, "You found it." He sounded a little embarassed.