Arthur tilted his head with a smirk at the offer, motioning to his briefcase with a hand.  How polite of Malachi, to be worried about his stitches now.  He tried not to focus on the promise of yet, and what might lead them to it.

There was no lack of paper within the office, and the doctor stood and stared at it all for a moment as if to say, need you really ask?  Something to write with was a little more rare, but another minute and Arthur had both things in his hands, holding them securely for Malachi.  The papers already had some scribbled writings - addresses and medications and numbers - but all had at least one blank side.

"Writing someone?"  Though Arthur had bothered to ask, he was anxious to leave.  It was obvious in his tone and stance, the way he rocked from foot to foot and kept glancing at his door.  He was thrilled, uncertain of his adventure but no less determined.