“I’m so sorry,” She managed, her voice caught in her throat as she stared up at Mr. Coyle. Her heart had started to thud impeccably loudly in her chest as he helped straighten her back to rights as easily as if he was lifting a feather. She swallowed. “A-are you hurt?” The distinct smell of cocoa wafted through the air; she’d spilled her cocoa on the both of them. It had cooled down enough to not burn her skin, but that might have been because her cheeks were already burning.

“Not a bit, Miss Brighton.” Came his response, coated with amusement. He took out his wand and tapped it on both of them. The smell of chocolate was still apparent, but Mabel was considerably less wet. As she took a step back, her flustered gaze landed on Dory. “Ah! Mr. Coyle, you remember Mr. Fisk?” She prompted.

Mr. Coyle gave a dip of his head to Dory. Mabel smiled up at Dory, her expression hopeful. “Mr. Fisk and I had just been about to finish the tour of the gardens. Would you care to join us?”