Julian drank from his own glass, too, but without any urgency. He had come here with the intention to write, and if he got trashed trying to figure out what was wrong with Darrow he wouldn't be able to do that (nor remember this conversation to use as inspiration in the future). Even if it wasn't about Zelda—and Darrow seemed insistent it wasn't—Julian had always assumed that Darrow would eventually worm his way into the family, and when he did Julian hoped they would get along.

"And that's okay," Julian responded in a lower voice. He really did care, maybe not because he was particularly invested in Darrow's life but because Zelda was enamored of him enough to go against their father's wishes—and that had to count for something. It might have been nearly two decades ago that Julian had gone against their father's wishes to become a curse-breaker, but he still remembered how daunting it was to face him. (And it had worked out well in the end, hadn't it? Minus the missing leg? He assumed Zelda would make it out in the end, leg hopefully intact. Her heart was definitely more important than her leg, in any case.)

"But—and don't tell anyone I said this—I don't actually hate you, Darrow. If that counts for anything," he added, "I know Zelda wouldn't want you to be miserable right now, so..." He shrugged.

---