Charlie's prize winning punch knocked a hearty stream of blood loose from Arthur's nose - not quite broken but certainly bested - and now that he's not fighting John there's enough give in the tentacles for him to brush the blood back as he passes a hand over his mouth.

"John...?" A little stuffy, as he glances directly up, then back at Charlie - and then he's tense in John's arms again, eyes wide as the colour disappears from his face to make way for the horrible dawning realisation. "O-oh, God. Fuck- Charlie, I-I-I’m so sorry--"