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Arthur’s phone goes off again, it seems like for the hundredth time. The sound it makes vibrating against the tabletop sets Arthur’s teeth on edge.When it goes off again, only a moment later, Arthur sets one of his notebooks on top, to try and deaden the sound, but it only serves to make it louder, somehow.“You’re going to have to talk to him eventually, Arthur,” Mal sighs, though she doesn’t look up from the blueprints she’s sketching. Her hand moves in quick, light strokes, her fingertips smeared with graphite.“That’s what you think,” Arthur snorts, tearing a page from his notebook, crumpling it up, and tossing it aside. He’s not focused, can’t focus with that grating fucking noise all the time.“Perhaps it wasn't what it looked like.”“Oh, don’t defend him. Are you kidding me?”Mal shrugs her elegant shoulders, blows a bit of stray hair off her forehead. It must be easy for her, Arthur thinks jealously. She’s so smart, so beautiful - she never has to worry that Dom might even think about looking at anyone else.“You could give him a chance to explain himself.”The phone vibrates, jitters across the tabletop as if trying to will Arthur to pick it up. So he does - scooping it into his hand and hurling it across their work-space in one, smooth movement, to smash against the concrete floor.