The woman in the booth, promising change, had posed a problem for Arthur. There were countless things he would change about himself — his impulsive personality, his inability to be alone, his struggles with focusing, the way his hands itched when he walked past the casino in Irvingly. What he settled on, though, was simple enough: his knee, which had been twinging off and on since he broke it in the pit.

On January 1st, he'd felt strangely numb all over — not as if his skin were tingling, but as if sensation were muted. He nicked his face while shaving and didn't notice. But that wasn't too unusual — sometimes he was distracted when he was shaving, and the cut was too small to catch in the moment. Right?

On January 2nd, he'd gone to practice and had not realized he'd been struck by a blunger until one of his teammates pointed it out.

Cleaning himself after practice, Art saw the ugly purple bruise forming on his shoulder — and that was enough to drive him to Bristol. He was not in the habit of showing up at Emrys' without warning — they were both fairly busy people, and he did not want to accidentally find Mrs. Angelica Selwyn there — but he couldn't talk himself out of it. He apparated from the pitch to the walkway in front of Emrys', knocked on the door, and if the staff were surprised to see him then they made a good show of not showing it.

He knew this looked strange. He didn't show up without warning. There was something nervous about his energy, more than usual — he was bouncing his leg, with the traitor knee, up and down while he sat on Emrys' couch. When Emrys entered his own parlor, Art was pressing his hand to the opposite shoulder, hoping to feel the bruise underneath.