Concern, or at least something that looked like it, crossed Arthur's face when Malachi coughed up blood.  Had he done that?  Surely not.  A rope couldn't be enough to make someone spit up blood.

Could it?

For once, Arthur mourned his lack of tangible medical knowledge.

His hands came to Malachi's hair, brushing through it slowly in an attempt to comfort the man.

"Shh, it's alright," he whispered, "I'm sorry, Malachi.  You're alright now, I promise."

The words might have been empty, or they might not have been.  They probably were, considering Arthur was the one saying them, but if not him, who would?  They were alone in the office, and perhaps in the world too.

"My darling, you're alright.  Why are you coughing up blood?  Are you very hurt?"  Arthur spoke like he wasn't expecting an answer, and didn't try to move Malachi from his position either.  He just pet the man's head, gently scratching up to the crown of his head and back down to his neck.  "You're all right, Malachi, you're all right."