Having a way with words on paper did not always translate to having a way with words in person, and in that moment Julian struggled to find even a proper introduction. Surely he could've managed that much, but there was a stranger in his home that was greeting him as if he was the visitor—which he supposed he was, having been gone for years, but the fact that the man seemed so comfortable made it feel like he'd been gone longer than he had. He was clearly the fiancé, having said as much, but how did one introduce themselves to their sister's future husband?

Foolishly, apparently.

"Oh, you're Scottish," he murmured, his head tilting to the side in curiosity. It was not that important to Julian, but Brannon Fisk always had something to say about Scots, and none of them good.

"I mean - it's good to meet you. I am," he said, a sheepish smile on his face as he reached out to shake Ross' hand. Julian took the moment to—to put it lightly—evaluate the gentleman that would eventually make his sister a Mrs. Mr. Ross was tall, but not more than himself; he also looked a good few years older, which seemed odd. He'd never really thought about the fact that any of his little sisters would go on to marry men who were much older than himself, but it made sense once he thought about it.

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