“ ‘course,” Athos says, voice gentle despite the pain that still sits on his features. He stands, and that is when he realizes how swiftly the drink has hit him; the strength of this modern world’s spirits is yet another thing he has had trouble adjusting to. There’s a chest in the corner, and to his credit, he only wobbles a little when he goes to fetch the blanket. He drapes it over Porthos with care, and leans heavily against the side of the chaise.

The confessional mood still hangs over the room, and the wine hasn’t helped, and after a bit, Athos says quietly, “When I found out about the two of you, I said some things-“ He swallows hard and tries to straighten. “There isn’t a dishonorable bone in your body, Porthos. Don’t let me ever say otherwise again."