He stood and moved away, and Juliana watched him while feeling a little exasperated. This was obviously not ideal, but she wasn't sure what she was meant to do to fix it — or, she thought belatedly, that it was even really her job to fix it. She didn't know him; they weren't friends. If he was going to self-destruct, though, he had every chance of bringing her down with him, so she was going to have to care at least enough to contain this. That, and — well, she didn't want him to self-destruct. He was kind, and sincere, and if the situation had been different she might have found that at least a little charming. It was the situation that was unkind, and because they were in this situation his sincerity was a liability rather than a benefit.

What she really wanted to say in response was just his name — in the same way that she might say Oh, Zach, if she needed to comfort her brother, or gently guide him back from doing something he might later regret. Despite knowing the sentiment she wanted to convey, however, she didn't know which word to use. She knew his name, but she could not bring herself to call him Lachlan out loud, and any other possibility sounded too stiff and formal for the feeling she was trying to convey.

After a second of debate, she decided not to say it at all. This wasn't her problem to fix, at the end of the day; he could handle rumors (or not handle them) however he liked, and it needn't reflect poorly on her unless he came out and openly accused her of writing the article that had started the work of clearing their names. He'd already promised not to do that, so while she felt guilty for leaving him like this, she decided that someone else could talk him down.

"Alright," she said, setting her tea cup down and rising to move towards the floo. She had reached the fireplace but not yet picked up the powder when a thought occurred to her. "Wait," she said, turning back to him and crossing her arms. "If I leave, you're not going to do anything — I don't know, stupid and impulsive, are you?"