Alfred rolled his eyes at her question. "Honestly, both of you," he said, mildly exasperated. It was not exactly an answer to her question. He didn't have an answer to her question. The last thing Zelda had communicated to him was that she was glad he had such a good friend and that the two of them were fine. Did he believe her? Not in the slightest — but he wasn't going to rearrange his life based on the assumption that she would be upset with something that she really oughtn't to be upset about. That wasn't being charitable to her, to make up rules and impose them on himself and then start resenting her, when she had said nothing at all about it. And besides, Zelda was a capable and mature person. If she had a problem with something like this, she could have said so.

"I don't send her a filled out datebook every week for approval," he said sarcastically, taking a chair. "Just like I don't tell you what to say in your letters. She trusts me — I trust you — we're friends, and I asked you over for drinks," he said, turning his attention to one of the bottles and removing the cork. He paused, the gestured for Jo to sit as well, hoping she'd follow his lead and let the subject of Zelda drop.