Ezra tucked his wand away and crossed the room. He'd gestured for her to sit on one of the armchairs in the parlor that was within arm's reach of a low table used for setting out tea things. He took position on the other side of the tea table, sitting on his knees directly on the floor so that he could use it like a desk. He put his index finger of his left hand on his temple, leaned his elbow on the table. He had to at least make an effort to appear official and presentable when he was out on Department of Mysteries business, but he was making no such presumptions here. If her story was right, he assumed she'd already seen him at least this agitated and probably moreso, so why bother clinging to appearances?

"First of all, when," he said, withdrawing a piece of paper he'd stashed on the bottom level of the tea table and retrieving a quill he'd left on its surface. "When I proposed, when it ended." He could get a very rough idea of it from thinking through when he'd interacted with her family, but honestly he didn't remember exactly when that had started or stopped — none of the memories he had of them seemed very significant, and none of them were particularly relevant to other milestones in his life. So the best he could really come up with was years ago, probably, and he needed something much more specific than that.

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