The snag turns into an anchor, dragging John's aggressive worry to a full stop.

"Two months?"

John's grip loosens so much that his hands are staying more from gravity than effort as he processes the time difference. Not the first time, no, but so much worse now since - since it sounds like they split at the same time again - he'll have to check that in a moment.

For now, he's imagining what he felt in these minutes searching for Arthur and stretching it through hours, days, weeks. The uncertainty, the guilt, the pain, all of it...

"Arthur... I'm sorry." John says, much quieter now. At an indoor voice, really, but that serves the same for him.