[ To Arthur's mind, even that much assistance seems excessive. Crichton's allowed to pilot him around if need be, but Crichton get special treatment for, uh, obvious reasons, and even then Crichton tends to ask. Arthur's tense under Ari's hand, though to be fair that's not exactly unusual for him. ]
Ah- verbal assistance is, is fine, thank you.
[ But he sits, and starts to break his cane down, folding it into fours. ]
God, yes, [ to the offer of chips, because Arthur exists in a perpetual state of 'oh yeah I could eat' but only when he's reminded that food exists. To the question of drinks, though, he hesitates a moment, realising too late that he doesn't actually know what soft drinks they sell here-- ]
Ah... I suppose I'll have... root beer? [ Because what self-respecting establishment wouldn't have root beer?
He turns the folded cane between his hands, impatient to know what she wants to tell him, but aware enough to give her a few damn minutes to actually tell it. ]
no subject
Ah- verbal assistance is, is fine, thank you.
[ But he sits, and starts to break his cane down, folding it into fours. ]
God, yes, [ to the offer of chips, because Arthur exists in a perpetual state of 'oh yeah I could eat' but only when he's reminded that food exists. To the question of drinks, though, he hesitates a moment, realising too late that he doesn't actually know what soft drinks they sell here-- ]
Ah... I suppose I'll have... root beer? [ Because what self-respecting establishment wouldn't have root beer?
He turns the folded cane between his hands, impatient to know what she wants to tell him, but aware enough to give her a few damn minutes to actually tell it. ]