Arthur wasn't completely dense, though there were apparently a handful of people who thought he was. A growing handful in fact. But he wasn't that dense. He strode down the narrow halls of Building C intent on one door and one door only, Merlin's. He rapped his knuckles against it with a ferocity that stunned him. Perhaps he should have waited, even if all he was waiting for was a chance to think up a good reason to be banging on Merlin's door when it was fairly clear Merlin still didn't want to see him.
But if he left, he would be admitting defeat, of sorts. And Arthur never gave up. Ever.
Slumping against the wall to wait, Arthur pulled out his PDA wondering, perhaps if he should send out a more pointed message to Merlin. Lancelot seemed to believe begging was an appropriate solution as degrading and embarrassing that would be, it made sense. Who knew what Merlin wanted from him?
Twenty minutes passed without anyone coming or going, and what little bit of hope Arthur had been harboring slid away. It didn't matter, he told himself, straightening away from the wall inch by inch until he was standing and moving away.
He slowly made it back to the room, pushing open the door and froze.
"You," Arthur bit out, articulate as ever. "What are you doing here?"