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"I told Will about us tonight."
"How did it go?"
"Obviously we'd had lots of pints by the time I got around to it..."
"Didn't go well, then?"
"There was yelling. About treachery and class warfare and such."
"Ouch."
"And his face! I've never seen quite that intense shade of purple."
"I'm sorry, Merlin. I know his opinion means a lot to you."
"Yeah. I was afraid he'd have a heart attack."
"So that's it, then?"
"I couldn't just leave it at that, you know?"
"Knowing you, no, you certainly couldn't."
"Honestly, I think what hurt him the most was that I hadn't told him about you before."
"That's understandable."
"It is! I should have—"
"But that's on me. I made you promise."
"I told him that. I talked a lot about you. He concluded that you're a posh git, the privileged embodiment of everything he's ever hated about royals."
"Strangely enough, I once knew this journalist fellow who thought exactly the same."
"Very witty."
"You're still on speaking terms, then?"
"Oh, we are. Will is obstinate, but he's been my best mate since we were four. He even agreed to be my best man at the wedding!"
"...Say what?"