Fine did not look like she had wandered here by accident. Fine was not the word one was supposed to use in the wake of their spouse's death. Fine wasn't asking to hide away from everything else. Alvin understood it though, the instinct to cover up the real emotions, the feelings that threatened to overflow with just the tiniest crack. He resisted passing her a look that said he did not believe her. Because he knew and the question had been more out of surprise than anything else.

"Of course, but Ma's still up, so we should probably stay outside." Fiona Bixby excelled at worrying about people. She would make tea and slip some brandy into it, magically find the good cookies in a tin, like they were ready-made for any particular situation. It was endearing and it was suffocating. It was why Alvin never really let on to how he was doing these days. He and Harry were always the ones who really strove not to be needy. Harry was really the only one succeeding.

Once she was inside the gate, he placed his hand gently at the small of her back and led her over to the garden bench. "House full?" He guessed. There was no way at least three Potts women weren't in her house at any given time. He had to assume as well, that since she was without Emery, that somebody was watching her. Taking a seat next to her, he angled his body in her direction, trying not to sit too closely, but struggling with any distance.