He managed a chuckle at her reply this time, which he supposed was a mark of her heartening effect - though he was certain if he thought too long about what the article had divulged again he would feel his spirits sink once more. “You’re quite right, of course,” Evander uttered gratefully, and then rather determinedly latched onto the adjacent topic she had provided, and made sure he had consigned the article about him to the past by flicking forwards to whatever horrors Witch Weekly had predicted for the next decade. “Though apparently we’re set to see the rise of a new world leader,” he quoted dryly, and slid the issue back over towards her, relieved to be rid of it. (He half-hoped that ludicrous prediction would come true, if only to ensure that everyone would have something else certain to talk about.)
“Thank you, at any rate,” Evander added in a lower tone, and a touch more tentatively. For Miss Goyle’s sympathetic ear, he supposed - and, with any luck, her discretion. (It was a little late for discretion, of course; and stemming the flow of gossip from whoever else happened to read the magazine was quite beyond her power.)
“Thank you, at any rate,” Evander added in a lower tone, and a touch more tentatively. For Miss Goyle’s sympathetic ear, he supposed - and, with any luck, her discretion. (It was a little late for discretion, of course; and stemming the flow of gossip from whoever else happened to read the magazine was quite beyond her power.)
