Arthur saunters over to you as you sit in front of the fire, fiddling with your own fingers.

He rests his hands on his belt and watches your jittery movements.

“Do you ever stop movin’? I mean, you’re up on your feet all day, and when you finally sit down, you can’t help but rock back and forth or twitch your little fingers,”

When you give but a shrug in response, he sits down next to you with a small grunt and a loud sigh.

“Look, I ain’t tryin’ to poke fun. Got a… a nervous condition?”