Zelda’s mouth twisted. “Why do you always assume that I’m incapable of thinking things through?” she said, tone more exasperated than it was angry. “I know what the consequences are. I think about my future, too.” She really liked Alfred, was the thing, and it was not something that she could by any means say to her father. But - well, her future. It was not as if she had anyone else knocking at the door to try to court her!

“You’re still a child,” Brannon said sharply. “And you’ve probably got some romantic nonsense in your head about this, thinking everything will be sunshine because you’re fond of him. That isn’t the way things work. If this man can’t support you — which, he has made clear, he can’t — you’ll be unhappy, and you’ll either keep on being unhappy your whole life, or he’ll leave you. And what will you do then? The slums are filled with girls who made stupid mistakes like this. Pennyworth is filled with their sons and daughters, still trying to work off their mothers’ mistakes,” he said harshly.

Zelda flinched; it was not so much the tone that made her flinch as it was the words. “I’m not helpless,” she said, finally, in a snappish tone she had been trying her best to avoid. She wasn’t helpless, was the thing - she had NEWTs, she had a job, she wasn’t useless. “And I thought you said this wasn’t about Xena. He’s not Mr. Jameshill.”