Relieved by the way he'd emphasized the offer, Helga allowed him to sit with a nod and a gentle pat on the chair beside her. He'd dissolved the fear that she was a burden, but it nothing he said dissolved the fear that she would make a fool of herself by the time the night was out. (Very rarely did she make a fool of herself at parties, but this man had seen her at arguably her worst: hair down, ankles out, tears welling, and on the brink of absolute hysteria.) She took comfort knowing tha nothing she could do would likely worsen his opinion of her.

Beckett Longbottom was a flirt; f he was any less handsome or rich she would have thought him a creep or a rake, but he kept the mannerisms of a gentlemen without being as boring. If he had been any other gentleman she might have feared that he was overstepping, but she knew it was all a tease—and was still all too willing to fall into his traps.

"I can hear the gossip mills now," she teased, holding her clothed leg out in front of her to get a feel for the pain, and immediately regretted it. She hissed, and then smiled, knowing ignoring it was a less emotionally taxing an socially acceptable way to handle the pain. "Though I suppose you'll have them coming after you no matter what you or I do. I've heard all sorts of wild things about the national team lately," she added with a teasing giggle.

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