Emrys would sooner hang himself from the balustrade of the main staircase than introduce Christobal to any of his wealthy friends. At least, he could not possibly consider introducing him to anyone as my friend, the artist or something of that vein; that would involve admitting that he knew the man in any personal capacity. Emrys didn't like admitting to anything in a personal capacity, and he certainly didn't want his different social circles mixing. He might have been able to handle introducing Christobal as a painter, as though he'd just encountered him professionally and could vouch for nothing except his work — only he couldn't possibly trust Christobal to play it cool on something like that. He'd almost certainly spill the beans, maybe even intentionally if he thought it was a way to leverage himself into wealthier company.

"None of the people I know are sophisticated enough to appreciate your work," he replied, which was a very diplomatic way of saying no chance in hell.

"But I'm certainly looking forward to you getting back on your feet," he added brightly, the subtext being and therefore getting out of my house.