Video
[ The scene is set in an office, as viewed from the side of the desk facing the small space. The architectural stylings are old, early twentieth century, and three closed doors are visible; two are plain and painted in a peeling off-white, the third directly behind the desk is a dark brown with a large window, on the outer side of which printed letters cast strange shadows on the frosted glass. Beside the door is a coat stand, on which hangs a dark brown suit jacket, a pair of fedoras and a leather gun holster, heavy with the weight of its weapon.

The room itself is bathed in an evening's amber light beaming through a slatted window behind the camera, that lends the man sitting conspicuously on the viewer's left of the screen a slightly healthier hue to his pale skin. He looks to be anywhere between his late twenties or early forties, aged ahead of his time by a merciless life. He has a white shirt, dark hair, brown eyes that stare at the camera intently, and the cold, calculated demeanor of someone not to fuck with a somewhat severe resting face, which isn't helped by how his right hand fiddles nervously with his hair, pushing the slightly-too-long strands out of his face; his left hand is steadily adjusting the camera, but a second communicator is visible just by the same elbow. ]

And you're sure it's--

[Yes, Arthur, it's recording. There is even a red light on the screen, blinking on and off. I can only assume that's important.]

Right. Alright.

[ The man clears his throat; when he speaks, in a London accent slightly muddled by consistent exposure to Americans, his cheer is clearly filtered through severe nerves. ]

Hello, friends- u-um. Well, at least I- I rather hope we can be. Friends, I mean. I've-- been r-rather short on those, recently. Um.

[...relax, Arthur. Take a moment to breathe.]

[ He takes a deep breath, rubbing his face with his right hand, and sits up straighter as he continues, more easily: ] I am-- Arthur. Arthur Lester, I'm a-- I was a private investigator, in Arkham, Massachusetts. F-from the year 1934, I've- been informed that particular information is of some. Some pertinence. A-and we are, as of - perhaps, two days, now?- w-we, are wardens. Of this ship. With you.

...a-and the reason being, that I say we, is-- [ His voice turns abruptly dry. ] It's not some- some English expatriate, royal we, God save the King bullshit, for the record. I say we because-- I came here with a companion.

[ His right hand had left the view of the camera as he was talking, but it returns now with a pallid mask with a dull ceramic sheen; at a glance, just two eyeholes marr its otherwise featureless countenance. ]

Myself, and-- John.

[ And he places the mask on the desk. It rises into the air almost immediately, billowing wisps of orange that coalesce into a set of hooded robes, fluttering softly around him. ]

Doe. [ The body of the robes is utterly empty; save for his left hand down the one existing sleeve, the colour of shadow and only marginally more substantial, and a faint distinction of shape behind the eyes of the mask. ] John Doe.

[ The way he says that name is... well, a little surprising, considering what almost anyone who hears it will think. But it is his name and he isn't letting go of it. ]

If you've seen me making my way around the ship, this is Arthur, the one I mentioned. He is my... [ The mask turns to look at Arthur for a moment before he continues: ] partner. Before this place, we weren't able to separate. But here, we can. There are reasons, however, why we would more often than not choose to stay together. So if you should notice that Arthur's eyes are focused on your face, it is probably because I'm there as well.

You won't hear my voice or see me, but we didn't want anyone to have any misconceptions about who they were talking to.

Y-yes, due to- a rather dramatic change in recent circumstances, I am- blind. Completely. [ From the moment John left him, in fact, Arthur's eyes lost their sharp focus, and have been flicking uncertainly, trying and failing to keep tracking the communicator. ] As well as having lost all sensation in my left hand. [ Which has since been limp across the desk, as he gestures gently with his right. ] John is able to control both of these for me, in my stead. It's a... something of an awkward arrangement, but we do get by.

[ Arthur's head tilts, turning it towards John a fraction. ] John, did you want to...?

What, Arthur? Oh. Show them--

[ At which point he floats down to Arthur's working hand to touch the mask to his fingers, to let him grab it: and when Arthur's grip goes tight, the robes fade away as the eyes gain focus and a certain shine comes back to them, visible only because their viewers had seen it otherwise. The left hand lifts to give a flutter of fingers. Hello. ]

We would strongly advise not to touch John's mask, as- we have discovered his possession is not limited just to myself, n-nor does he have any say in the matter himself. It would be... an unpleasant experience all round, especially as there's no guarantee what he would be in control of once you come together.

[ Arthur gives a soft huff, and sits back a little in his chair, looking faintly pleased with himself. ]

Well, I-I think that just about covered everything- right? All of the, uh. Immediately important information.

[I suppose it did.]

Right- well then. Thank you all for your time.

[ The left hand will reach out then and after another flutter of fingers, turn off the feed. ]

[[OOC: Arthur and John are both using this post! Feel free to specify if you'd like to reply to a specific person, with the obvious caveats that Arthur prefers audio and John prefers text; however, John can hear perfectly well and is willing and able to read for Arthur!]]


Spam/Wildcard!
[ He does take the rest of the evening off after his video call to let the horrible thrill of anxiety settle, but the next morning Arthur is out and about, being led on something of a tour by the eldritch abomination behind his eyes.

For a self-confessed blind man, he moves down the halls with a surprisingly natural gait; but then the mask he held up in the video is also tied to his waist, twine looping through its eyes to secure it to a belt loop on his pants, and his right hand occasionally rests idly on it as he walks, as though to check it's still secure.

John is both indiscrimate and eager with the rooms he introduces Arthur to - they spend unreasonable amounts of time on deck and in the Wardrobe, because there are far too many observations to be made about the beauty on display; but also because the latter, as it turns out, is Arthur's new job. Which is frankly baffling.

But if you want to find Arthur, he's not particularly difficult to find on pretty much any floor, or most major rooms.]