Endymion couldn’t help himself – he had to snort at that. Well, maybe Oz was right. For the best; and at least, while Endymion would never approve of the infidelity, this little affair sounded very well over. That was something.
“Mm,” he agreed fervently; any sting of trying-and-failing to ever write anything profound himself was far too old for there to be any bitterness in the thought of anyone else attempting it. Instead he was perfectly happy to joke about it. “And Merlin help us all if you did.” (But really, maybe it was really a mercy there wasn’t another poet in this household: Oz would have probably been the most outrageously insufferable of them all.)
“Mm,” he agreed fervently; any sting of trying-and-failing to ever write anything profound himself was far too old for there to be any bitterness in the thought of anyone else attempting it. Instead he was perfectly happy to joke about it. “And Merlin help us all if you did.” (But really, maybe it was really a mercy there wasn’t another poet in this household: Oz would have probably been the most outrageously insufferable of them all.)
