"Don't mind him," Faelan told Oliver, twisting the handkerchief in his hands but refusing to bring it to his eyes. "He says he doesn't like girls or their blouses, but I have my doubts."
With a smirk in Harry's direction, Faelan used the moment of levity to try and gather himself. He poured them all more whiskey, trying not to let his hand shake, and settled a safe distance away in a comfy chair. He had a feeling they might be here a while.