“That was certainly something, what you did back there,” Arthur chuckled; lips forming the edge of a smirk as he brushed a rag over a gash on your jaw, his own already starting to bruise. “Could’a sorted it myself, you know that?”

He was met only with a wince from yourself as he pressed down against your cut.

You'd gotten into a brawl with a man after he'd — for no apparent reason — punched your lover in the face. It wasn't a very good idea, honestly, and you likely wouldn't have done it had you not downed a drink (or three) prior. Arthur, rather than being ticked you'd fought for him, had actually cackled the whole time it happened… though maybe that was because he'd had a few shots himself.