The feeling of her fingertips brushing up against his wrist sent butterflies through his stomach. He'd expected her to be angry at him, or at least annoyed, and it seemed as though she wasn't — or, at least, not enough to get up and move to the other side of the room, which she could very well have done if she'd wanted to. Alfred had an impulse to return the gesture somehow, maybe by draping his arm back around her waist or leaning into her or moving to hold her hand properly instead of just letting her fingertips rest on his hand. He couldn't tell, though, whether the impulse was coming from his actual feelings about her or from a desire to continue annoying Evander, however, so decided not to.

That didn't mean he was willing to cut Evander any slack, though, particularly not after that barb about how he oughtn't to get married if he was going to get himself into predicaments like this. "It's not like I did this on purpose," he said sarcastically. "I didn't go looking for a cursed chest just to inconvenience you."

That was one of the things that annoyed him most about Evander's response. He hadn't come right out and said it, but his defensiveness implied that he saw himself as the victim in this situation, which was hardly fair. Not when Alfred had been dying only a few hours ago. Wasn't this sort of thing supposed to bring families closer and make them all sentimental and shit?