[Arthur reaches for the remote and mutes the television, frowning over at the front door. For a passing moment he's tempted to ignore it, to lie there quietly until whoever it is on the other side gets bored and goes away. But instead he throws aside the blanket and heaves himself up onto unsteady feet, the wine and food slowing him down.
At first he only opens the door a crack, enough to peer out and see who it is on the other side, but the second he realises it's Mal standing there, he throws it open.] It's late, Mal, what are you doing here? [He glances over her shoulder as if expecting to see someone else, and only frowns deeper when he doesn't.] What's wrong?
[And then he notices how upset she looks, as if she's been crying or close to it, and immediately moves aside, gestures for her to come inside.] Tell me what happened?
no subject
At first he only opens the door a crack, enough to peer out and see who it is on the other side, but the second he realises it's Mal standing there, he throws it open.] It's late, Mal, what are you doing here? [He glances over her shoulder as if expecting to see someone else, and only frowns deeper when he doesn't.] What's wrong?
[And then he notices how upset she looks, as if she's been crying or close to it, and immediately moves aside, gestures for her to come inside.] Tell me what happened?