Emrys rolled his eyes at this remark. "So fatalist," he said critically, abandoning his search for well-suited pants for the moment and crossing to sit in the free armchair. Macmillan was probably hopeless, since he'd already determined he was going to die tomorrow and it would be very romantically pleasing, or whatever, but Emrys still thought this was just about the dumbest thing that had happened all year. Which was a high bar to set, because he'd watched some idiot propose to his niece while surrounded by over-the-top stone cupids and Valentine's decorations last month.

"Tell her you were ready to die for her and he backed down, then," Emrys said with a shrug. He really had no qualms at all about lying to anyone involved in this situation, if it meant they didn't have to go through with the duel tomorrow, and he couldn't understand why no one else seemed to be as interested in this quite obvious avenue of solution as he was. "Tell her I offered his second a few galleons to call the thing off, and her brother agreed. Then she'll be on your side again. Yeah, that's it — tell her that her brother sold her honor," he mused. "Tell her it was cheap, too. That ought to get her angry enough at him she'll come running back to you, if that's what you're after."