Mordred was right on time. He would have been earlier, but he refused to leave before making sure that Isabella's husband had things firmly under control. Usually he wouldn't leave a job whatsoever, but Blues with a shotgun seemed to be able to handle anything that cropped up.
He was slightly worried, knowing that this would not be an ordinary social call. His aunt was obviously up to something, and that made him wonder how much she knew about his recent life. He had thought that he was being careful, discreet even, but his mother and aunt had resources and if they knew something he didn't want them to know then that was his own stupidity at fault. Clearly, he should have known better.
Parking his car, taking one last look at his reflection to make sure that everything was in good order, Mordred slapped a bright smirk on his face and walked inside.
She had already been seated, and he was murmuring apologize to Morgan even as he sat down. He couldn't fault her taste in restaurants; the plan she had chosen was just the right blend of class and ambiance which suited his mood fine. He could only hope she didn't lob too many hardballs his way, but he knew better than to expect any leniency.
"I'm quite sorry I was not here sooner, I had to make certain all was well before I departed." He spoke quickly, assuming she'd want to ask about it. "Were you waiting long?"