Swallowing down a growing lump in his throat, he carefully watched Mulciber talk. Picking up on how the word ‘attention’ had been stressed, Avery looked down at his momentarily forgotten food. What he had wanted to say was 'I'd never love her as much as I love you.' —but what he really said was: “I have you. I don’t need anyone else.” Neither did he want anyone else, as he was more than content with his friend. Looking back up at Mulciber, for the mention of ‘Sid’ and the shoulder pat… he almost lost his train of thought at what Mulciber said next. “You’re right. I guess. But it’ll be a cold day in hell if I say I’m ever fine with it.”
"Right," Mulciber said, a little bemused at the wording. Though he knew Avery had more than a point. No matter what, he found himself trusting this boy who, had he been anyone else, would be nothing more than a lackey. For the damnedest reasons, he found himself oddly attached. "You saying you wouldn't make a great best man? Anyway, mate, you're forgetting the whole point of betrothals. They're business deals. Just prettier wording and prettier people. All wrapped up in a nice grandchildren ensuring bundle for parents. In theory, we could both get married to separate birds, make both our parents happy for a few months, then skip town. They'd probably just blame it on all the missing people cropping up these days and be none the wiser. Then, we could do whatever we wanted, no more betrothals to worry about. Or, you know, this joke of a school."
