Alfred had spared a brief glance to Zelda after he'd made his declaration, but immediately regretted it. It was difficult to read her expression exactly, but she was blushing. He had embarrassed her — he was still embarrassing her. This had been a mistake. Coming tonight had been a mistake, but maybe asking at all was a mistake, as well. What if she didn't want him to ask? It wasn't as though she'd been dropping hints about it, or anything. They'd never talked about a future. He knew that she liked him, but there was a good deal of difference between enjoying someone's company and enjoying the feeling of laying one's head on their shoulder for a minute or two, and wanting to maybe marry that someone one day.

Ari Fisk was not helping matters. Alfred wasn't ashamed of his profession, by any means, but that wasn't exactly the way that he would have brought it up. He certainly didn't introduce himself by bringing up Avalon to perfect strangers. Whether it existed at all (and whether or not it could be found if it did) was a point of some contention, and decidedly not the point in this conversation. And it wasn't as though Alfred was under any illusion that Ari Fisk actually cared about Avalon — he knew that Alfred was floundering here and was cheerfully sloshing another bucket of water over his head. Mr. Fisk's question was at least an excuse not to answer Ari's, which was a boon.

"It was — uhm," he said, realizing that the truth probably wouldn't be the best response. He was already embarrassing Zelda; the last thing he wanted to do was get her in trouble, too. And admitting that the first time they'd met she had been alone and barefoot on a beach probably wouldn't do her any favors with her father. Not to mention that it wouldn't give anyone the best impression of him — sailing around shirtless and picking up women from the beach. Merlin help him. "A little over a year ago, at a Halloween party," he supplied instead.