Despite appearances, Arthur does in fact grasp that he should probably stop jumping down Jack's throat before he throws yet another budding interpersonal relationship into an open fire. He lets out a breath, abashed.

"Right. I... right. Sorry." And a muttered aside: "I forget people want to help, sometimes."

Arthur's not going to find either of the others by running about getting frustrated like this. He needs to be smarter than that, and sit, and calm the fuck down. He lets his cane fall into his lap and leans over the table, his fingers twisting together against every effort to stay still. They grasped the paddle and rowed so hard he thought his back would break, and it did nothing.

He blurts out: "Some, ah, company wouldn't go amiss, i-if you weren't on the way anywhere." And if throwing a stool at Jack didn't put him off hanging out. "A bad day to be alone with my thoughts, I think."