[Malcolm was the one who initially turned Arthur onto coffee, shortly after he'd moved in with them. Maybe it's partly due to his infatuation with America, but it's also because of the caffeine--he's never been overly fond of sleep; his mum once told him that even as a baby he'd wake himself after a few hours with indignant wails, as though he'd thought he'd miss something important.
In any case, there's not much to do aside from sit in cafes and drink coffee. Today, he's absorbed himself by sketching the patrons of the little establishment he's sitting at, in between sips of something bitter and foamy. Then someone jerks him out of his sketch with a greeting, startling him into scrawling a line right through the center of his sketch, and he blinks up at his new companion to find that he recognizes the young man standing in front of him.
Recalling their conversation brings a slight warmth to his face, but Arthur smiles up at him and gestures at the empty chair.]
Please.
[There's a moment where he doesn't elaborate--he takes a moment to erase the mistake, eyes on his paper--before he works up the nerve.]
I'm Arthur, by the way. We spoke earlier, actually, about that book you're carrying.
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In any case, there's not much to do aside from sit in cafes and drink coffee. Today, he's absorbed himself by sketching the patrons of the little establishment he's sitting at, in between sips of something bitter and foamy. Then someone jerks him out of his sketch with a greeting, startling him into scrawling a line right through the center of his sketch, and he blinks up at his new companion to find that he recognizes the young man standing in front of him.
Recalling their conversation brings a slight warmth to his face, but Arthur smiles up at him and gestures at the empty chair.]
Please.
[There's a moment where he doesn't elaborate--he takes a moment to erase the mistake, eyes on his paper--before he works up the nerve.]
I'm Arthur, by the way. We spoke earlier, actually, about that book you're carrying.