Wayne knew that things were strange these days, stock rotating at much less regular intervals, ghosts nowhere to be seen, people having to take the place of staff and expand their skillsets. Which, apparently, includes men like Arthur struggling to make the coffee maker. His first instinct, to make himself known and offer his assistance, is squashed down violently by the impression that if he got close enough, that the man might swing on him for his part in the debacle that had apparently ended his relationship.

Arthur's hearing might pick up the sound of a nervous swallow and the creak of leather, held breath and an attempt not to be heard. What's the point, though? He's already been noticed, and trying to pretend he hasn't will only make the man more suspicious, and probably less inclined to let him be around long enough to make himself a cup of tea.

"Nah, just me," he says quietly, his hands shoving into his pockets. "Uh...Next button over, by the way."