A small amount of the brandy sloshed from his cup as Aldous' arm jerked in reaction.

A number of responses to this decidedly unwelcome declaration (Merlin help them, murder would have been easier to sort out) burst immediately to mind and all the muscles in his face strained with the effort of not firing them at his brother in quick succession. Of all the reckless, fucking idiotic things that Reuben could have done, had done in the past, this took the bloody cake and then shat all over it.

"I do hope," he answered at last, is tone soft, measured, and plainly greatly restrained, "that this is not the same Melody Finch whose father so badly yearned for your head that you had to go to Canada to keep it on your shoulders," a breath, before adding with great enunciation that betrayed all the anger and disappointment he had worked so hard to rein in, "empty thing though it is."