"See?" Roger agreed. "Faultless." He frowned when her face fell. He hadn't meant to ruin the mood, not at all. "Hey," he said, bringing a hand to cup her cheek. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm just worried about her, being in hospital and all. You're still my favorite girl."
Roger glanced around for a distraction, and quite unhappily found more middle-aged witches scoping out the eligible auction victims. "Where did all these rich society women come from? And where are their husbands?"