"Mrs. Mulciber is an accomplished hostess because she could not possibly be any other way," Ernest said graciously. He wasn't personally invested in his relationship with his wife enough to be offended at any implication she might make, and so took no pains over this one. "It's in her blood, I think. I don't imagine she cares one way or the other about my absences," he admitted honestly. He'd spent months practically living in the Department of Mysteries when the fog had made travel to and from Hosgmeade inconvenient, and she hadn't minded that. The biggest inconvenience to Rufina that summer was that she had to be careful not to end up with a tan line cutting across the area of her shoulders that would be revealed in an evening gown, after having more than her share of sun at the Sandition Resort.

  

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"We wives always care, in our own ways," Hannah offered deftly, rather uncomfortable at the implication.

  

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— Beesets are the gift that keep giving ♡ —

"Perhaps that's so," Ernest responded, though he very much doubted that was the case. At least in his own marriages. Presumably some people did hold some degree of affection for their spouses.

  

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A wave from across the dance floor caught her attention now, and, privately, Hannah was rather glad of the excuse. Mr. Mulciber in his own right was rather surprisingly fine company, but theirs was not so intimate an acquaintance that she had any idea how to navigate out of the rough harbour their conversation had sailed into.

"It seems, Mr. Mulciber, that I have proved an excellent human shield," she remarked brightly instead. "You wouldn't take it personally if I left you to the wilds now, would you?"

The blonde head gestured in her friend's direction.

  

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— Beesets are the gift that keep giving ♡ —

"Of course not," he said pleasantly. He dropped her hand from the dance and waved graciously in the direction she had indicated her friend was waiting, though didn't bother to actually see who she meant. He didn't tend to get invested in social circles outside of his own, and it wouldn't have hurt his feelings in the slightest if the friend had been only an imagined interruption — that was the same thing he'd done in the first place, after all, that had started their dance off.

"I'm most grateful to you, Mrs. Pettigrew — do let me know if you ever need the favor returned," he said merrily as he departed back to the crowd, with a mind to discover where his wife had gotten off to.

  

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