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[theotherright]

Cabin 127. No calls, we text like men on our disney cruise phones.

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[theotherright]

The narration keeps coming up against a wall when trying to write in brackets, so Arthur slips into something a little more prose.

Maybe the joke wasn't as punchy as it could have been, but it's a rare and welcome surprise coming from John, and it makes Arthur smile for a moment. Honestly it's just... nice to talk to him without life-or-death stakes attached (for now), as much as Arthur avoided it, and as awkward as they're being about it.

"Well. He was somewhat miffed to have not been let in on the fact that we have magical powers," and if you guessed that his delivery is dry, you were goddamn right, "but I think I'm forgiven."

He doesn't mention Crichton's theory that John is jealous of them, mostly because it would be entirely the wrong thing to say, but partly because he's trying not to think about it.

The rolling tip of his cane bumps over something that muffles it, something he guesses is fabric; Arthur stops walking forwards and starts trying to guess whether that was a trailing tablecloth or John. (It would be less embarrassing if it was a tablecloth. It was John.)