Douglas had to admit, Martin was being a little unreasonable.
Martin's eyes were obviously deteriorating - reading wise. Even Arthur picked up on the fact that the captain was holding the papers further and further away from his face, which Martin denied with as much prissy insistence as he applied to asserting he was indeed the captain.
It all got to much after several months of squinting and leaning.
Martin was attempting to read the morning paper when Douglas finally confronted him. "Martin, please just go to the optician," he sighed.
"What? Why?!" Martin questioned indignantly.
"Because Martin, you're going to dislocate your arm if you try to hold that newspaper any further away from your face," Douglas pointed out.
"Ridiculous," Martin huffed, "You're imagining things."
"Humour me," Douglas smiled, kneeling to nuzzle the captain affectionately.
And Martin 'humoured him', only to come back with a prescription for reading glasses in his hand.
The glasses didn't see much use when they came and often lay forgotten on the bedside table. It wasn't until one Sunday that they were finally accepted...
Douglas walked into the living room and saw Martin curled up in the arm chair reading an old copy of 'Catch-22' and Douglas noticed something odd, Martin was wearing his reading glasses. "Oh? What made you change your mind?" He smiled smugly.
"Don't want to talk about it..." Martin murmured.
Douglas frowned, concerned, and sat on the arm of the chair. "What's wro -" the strong fruity smell wafted from Martin's hair.
"I might have brought the wrong shampoo..." Martin admitted, then muttered, "I don't know why they decided to put "women's" on the blue background in only a slightly different shade of blue..."