[h1][center][color=4286f4][i]Arthur Stanford[/i][/color][/center][/h1] [hr] [center][img]https://s.aolcdn.com/dims-shared/dims3/GLOB/crop/3280x2050+0+121/resize/640x400!/format/jpg/quality/85/https://s.aolcdn.com/hss/storage/midas/73ce8167c00ca1dc68e8468a67c07477/202780896/Photo+Credit+Jordan+Matter.jpg[/img][/center] [hr] [center][color=4286f4]Location:[/color]Ship[/center] [hr] Walking with the group, Arthur was trying to pay attention, but was failing desperately. The galley was nice, he supposed, having access to literally any food he wanted was a luxury that most didn't have, but he just couldn't get himself excited about it. The armory failed to interest him either, not caring much for weapons short of their capacity to keep himself or others safe. It was relieving to know that they thought enough ahead to know that this ship needed an infirmary. For all he could say about the demigods so far, they seemed to take all this seriously enough. When they saw the rooms, he smiled a bit. They were small, but cozy in a way. It was reminiscent of his time at the wretched school, but much nicer, and all to himself. He didn't know if he was ready to sleep alone yet, but he was glad that when he was, he'd have a place to go that wasn't a mausoleum. He did chuckle a bit at Andy's question, before responding playfully, "[color=4286f4]Well, the theme of the week seems to be magic, so I'd guess that.[/color]" He couldn't think of any other way for something like this to fly, and he considered if it were otherwise possible, the rest of the world would have figured out how to make these a long time ago.