It wasn't unusual for Arthur to book himself rooms when missions took longer than expected, when he was away from camp for more than a night, but, having brought you along, it was different.

You just wanted a change of scenery, not help Pearson cook dinner for once, but it had proven a long task.

Sheepish, you and Arthur stared into the room he had paid for the night, at the squeaky-looking bed. Bed, singular. This would be fine, right?