Atticus hummed quietly as he flicked his gaze up to meet his cousin; most of the time they were insync. He could read her like an open book, just as she could with him; he wasn’t entirely sure why - or how - he’d gotten as close to Poppy as he had, simply because their gap was significant. Perhaps he’d wanted to protect in her ways he’d failed to protect Basil. Blinking slowly, he couldn’t help but smile at her.

Atticus folded his hands on the table, forgetting about the tea and the scones for a moment. “I’m not angry, if that’s what you're thinking. Just… surprised at your forwardness. But for you my dear, I will be the utmost gentleman to the women you have taken your time to converse with on my behalf.” He sighed, and glanced down at the table for a moment as he collected his thoughts; he didn’t want to snap at her again, not when she didn’t deserve it. “Next time, although I hope there will not be a next time, please run it by me first.” A courtship, a proposal, he wasn’t sure what his goal at the end of the season was, but it was certainly… something. He paused once more.

A slight grin stole across his features. “And if your prospects are floundering next year when Lonely Hearts comes back around, I am returning the favor of writing in.” Although Atticus wasn’t sure if he was teasing her or not.

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