“Dear Merlin,” Evander said at that piece of news, by which of course he meant oh, fuck. The curse wasn’t even gone and somehow the only thought on the pair of their minds seemed to be whether or not they could get married!
If things looked up for his brother, Evander was absolutely going to find the time to be angry at the stupidity of this later. As it was, whatever new mess Alfred had got himself into, the fact was it was still a hazardous situation, and Evander would prefer not to see him wind up dead so soon. For many practical reasons, certainly... as well as - well - the personal kind.
He half-wanted to voice the words I’m sorry, and heave out the sigh building in his chest, but he didn’t think the sentiment would lend much levity to the proceedings: I’m sorry would make it sound rather more tragic, and tragedy was something they were hopefully all trying to avoid.
He nodded jerkily in approval of Alfred’s one measure of common sense, an agreement to stay off the ship that had not needed to be extracted from him forcibly. Evander wasn’t sure whether that was an empty promise, or whether this Miss Fisk exerted some kind of positive influence on Alfred’s stupid tendencies - but this was hardly the time to delve into that.
“Good,” he added, his throat still a little dry. Because Alfred was still cursed, and even if his lungs healed, then what? Evander would have suggested that the best course of action was to get rid of the ship by any means possible, as fast as possible... but that seemed so terribly obvious that he had to assume that would have been done immediately if it had been possible, and the complications here were of the curse’s own making.
“Are you -” Evander began, and then thought he may as well direct the question to Miss Fisk, as she apparently had all his case details, down to the hospital treatment. “Is he going to be discharged soon, or are they - keeping him here?” Frankly, the latter would be safest, when it came to Alfred. Otherwise - well, he would have to offer to have Alfred stay with him, wouldn’t he? Whatever this curse was, he didn’t particularly trust it not to flare back up in his own house (and with Charity there, too!)... but he certainly didn’t trust things to go much better if Alfred was left in his (once cursed?) flat, and to his own devices.
If things looked up for his brother, Evander was absolutely going to find the time to be angry at the stupidity of this later. As it was, whatever new mess Alfred had got himself into, the fact was it was still a hazardous situation, and Evander would prefer not to see him wind up dead so soon. For many practical reasons, certainly... as well as - well - the personal kind.
He half-wanted to voice the words I’m sorry, and heave out the sigh building in his chest, but he didn’t think the sentiment would lend much levity to the proceedings: I’m sorry would make it sound rather more tragic, and tragedy was something they were hopefully all trying to avoid.
He nodded jerkily in approval of Alfred’s one measure of common sense, an agreement to stay off the ship that had not needed to be extracted from him forcibly. Evander wasn’t sure whether that was an empty promise, or whether this Miss Fisk exerted some kind of positive influence on Alfred’s stupid tendencies - but this was hardly the time to delve into that.
“Good,” he added, his throat still a little dry. Because Alfred was still cursed, and even if his lungs healed, then what? Evander would have suggested that the best course of action was to get rid of the ship by any means possible, as fast as possible... but that seemed so terribly obvious that he had to assume that would have been done immediately if it had been possible, and the complications here were of the curse’s own making.
“Are you -” Evander began, and then thought he may as well direct the question to Miss Fisk, as she apparently had all his case details, down to the hospital treatment. “Is he going to be discharged soon, or are they - keeping him here?” Frankly, the latter would be safest, when it came to Alfred. Otherwise - well, he would have to offer to have Alfred stay with him, wouldn’t he? Whatever this curse was, he didn’t particularly trust it not to flare back up in his own house (and with Charity there, too!)... but he certainly didn’t trust things to go much better if Alfred was left in his (once cursed?) flat, and to his own devices.
