Basil frowned, pointedly, as Atticus followed him in his stepping way and tried to ruffle his hair. Was his brother drunk? He had to be if he was being so affectionate! Irritated, Basil ducked and swatted at him like a child. If their mother could have seen them then, two grown men batting at one another, she’d have been appalled. Smoothing his waistcoat and stepping back as Atticus settled, Basil resisted the urge to ‘hmph.’He bit back a scathing comment about Anthony, determined not to drag his poor cousin into this any more than he was already involved, and continued to frown at his brother. As Atticus said those three little words, I. Miss. You., Basil felt his anger bubble up again and he couldn’t quite catch himself before: “I’m right here,” he snapped. “There’s never been anything dividing us more than your secrets and Merlin knows those are abundant.” The brunette sprung his mouth shut with an audible click. He hadn’t meant to bring up the secret, the one that had been niggling at him as of late, but here they were.
Determined to change the subject before Atticus started in on it, Basil eyed Anthony again. “Why don’t you go bother Tony,” he grumbled, accidentally letting his cousin’s nickname slip. Anthony hated being called anything but well, Anthony, and Basil was one of the few privileged with this ability. He hoped, spitefully, it reminded Atticus that their relationship was so much worse for wear by comparison. “He looks like he could use some interrupting.” In truth, Anthony was perfectly fine, having a civil conversation with someone Basil didn’t recognize. But, looking for an out, the youngest Foxwood figured it was worth a shot.