John rounds on him in clear offense, but then he huffs as the tension drops from his shoulders. It... it is rather absurd.

And it's alright. It's all alright. Arthur's body is still Arthur's body— John has not made him a monster. He has stolen nothing he can't give back. He exhales a warm breath, light with relief, and reaches out to accept the suit jacket.

"Alright." He ties it with the slightly puzzled clumsiness of someone who has never gone through these motions. As they start from the trees, John adjusts his new barely-garment and mutters the important bits? in tones of puzzled disdain.

The sun rises over the convoy.