The subtext of the word our was not lost on him, and it immediately rankled him. He clenched his fist too tight by his side, but what was he to do? Words were coming to mind — it's a testament to my affection for Zelda that I put up with so much shit from you all— but no matter how heated this exchange suddenly felt, he was not stupid enough to say them aloud. Not to the Minister's wife, not in a ballroom, not mere weeks before he was hoping to convince Brannon Fisk to allow him permission to marry Zelda.

And poor Zelda — he ought not to have said that bit about the courting, because she was distressed and Roslyn seemed entirely unfazed, and the last thing he wanted to do was make things difficult for Zelda.

"Sure," he said, deflating slightly. He certainly didn't have the energy or the presence of mind to pick a conversation topic, however, so the best he could do was: "We can talk about whatever you want."