Arthur doesn't slow his roll when he sees the giant figure stepping into sight - it probably ought to, he knows logically, but after being chased by a fucking ghost bear for the last month or so, after almost freezing to death and almost forgetting John entirely, he doesn't care.

That's John.

And every inch of Arthur is wrapped in thick layers of clothes, so he doesn't realise how fucking cold John is yet; he just throws his arms around John's neck and shoulders to cuddle him, burying his face immediately in the nest of frosty yellow fabric around his neck to snuggle into his partner. His friend.

"Jesus Christ, John, h-how?" He pulls back almost immediately, though, so he can look at John. "Y-you--"

One hand comes up to cup John's jaw (mask?), the other still bracing himself. "You have a body..."