It ws morning, it was Monday, and Arthur was in the salle, going over the edge of his own sword to make sure it was still decent for actual combat. Sure, sharpening the thing wasn't strictly his job, but he liked to make sure just in case something showed up.
He was also still mildly cranky over the phone thing, but it wasn't like mildly cranky
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So, instead, he was polishing armor. Because that didn't involve spatulas.
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A beat.
"Hopefully."
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