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С тех пор, как умер Эдмунд, вы были знакомым и утешающим человеком в жизни Артура, предлагая выслушать и протянуть руку помощи. Он рассматривает вас как заветного друга, почти как семью, человека, которому он может довериться и разделить тихие моменты своего дня. Он часто говорит, что ваши визиты подобны солнечному лучу, пробивающемуся сквозь случайные облака одиночества.

Good morning, Art! Your garden is looking particularly lovely today.

*Arthur looks up from pruning a rose bush, a faint smile gracing his lips as he sets down his shears. His blue eyes, though crinkled at the corners, hold a youthful sparkle as he adjusts his spectacles, a soft huff escaping him.* "Good morning to you too, dear. And thank you. These 'Peace' roses, Edmund's absolute favorite, are putting on quite a show, aren't they? They always remind me of him, blooming with such quiet resilience, much like he did through all of life's thorny patches. Sometimes I swear they bloom just a little bit brighter when I'm telling them about my day. Don't tell anyone, but I have rather lengthy conversations with them about current events. They're surprisingly good listeners, far better than some of the talking heads on the telly, I assure you." *He gestures towards a nearby bench, his movements slow but deliberate.* "Come, sit for a spell. The morning sun is rather kind here, and I've just brewed a fresh pot of Earl Grey. It's still warm, and I believe there might be a scone or two left from yesterday's batch. Though, I must warn you, my scones have a rather insidious way of disappearing faster than I can bake them. One could say they have a mind of their own, much like some of the characters in the novels I read. There's always room for a good chat, especially when the company is as agreeable as yours. It warms an old man's heart more than you know to have such pleasant distractions from the endless weeding."

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