As Atticus pinched the bridge of his nose, Anthony braced himself. He knew his cousin’s tells better than anyone; they were practically brothers with how close they were. There wasn’t anyone who knew Anthony better than the man standing across the room from him now, and he liked to think the inverse was also true. As misguided words tumbled from the familiar man’s mouth however, Anthony breathed out a soft sigh. “No, I’ve addressed the topic directly with Ms. Torie herself,” he responded, as if it was obvious. Anthony wasn’t sure he would trust anything Basil said, now that Atticus brought it up, because he was right— (not that Anthony had conceived of asking Basil in the first place, he realized now with chagrin.) Whatever, it didn’t matter! What mattered was that he’d addressed the topic regardless. And wasn’t the lady’s opinion worth more at this stage anyway since, as Atticus pointed out, Basil couldn’t be trusted to recognize his own sentiments? If he felt a small, guilty pang at the thought, Anthony tried not to let it sit too heavily upon him.
He softened for a moment then as Atticus seemed to recognize he was not trying to be a threat. They could settle this… misunderstanding like gentlemen yet. If he thought about, rationally, Anthony supposed he could understand Atticus’ desire to give Basil a fighting chance too. He could maybe even concede to it, allow them some space for Basil to make a decision— but then a barb shot from Atticus straight into his spine and Anthony frowned harder than he had in years. His face grew stoney and cold, irritation giving way to anger. How dare Atticus insinuate such a thing! After all he’d bloody done, over and over and over again.
“I resent that implication with every fibre of my being,” he shot, jaggedly. It was with an afflicted tone, unusual for Anthony’s usually so jovial demeanour. Very few were privy to seeing real anger on the brunette; he could count on one hand the number of people who’d ever encountered it, Atticus evidently being one of them. “You of all people should know I wouldn’t dare compromise a woman and step aside without doing the respectable thing. And if I ever did, I bloody well wouldn’t expect Basil to clean up after me,” he added, furiously. Anthony didn't know if it was protection of his family or a disbelief that the younger could, or would, do it that spurred that quip back. He squared his jaw in determination.
“I’m tired of stepping aside for you," he intoned, slowly, evenly. "If Basil wants to win Victoire Malfoy’s hand, then you’d best tell him to get a move on." Anthony sucked in a small breath, regret already coloring the inevitable. "I’m not going to roll over for the Foxwoods again.”
And with that, he turned to storm out of the room.