George cocked his head and smiled a little. "Good. Now say it again. Only add in something about me being brilliant, and Fred being a daft arse who can't keep from shagging ONE person," George ordered him.
George wasn't especially sympathetic to the pain admitting he was wrong brought Percy. He did slap him on the shoulder approvingly. "Dad will talk to you. Don't be daft. You're his son. He was brassed, he'll still be brassed, but he'll get over it."
He moved over to grab a couple of their mismatched glasses, setting them on the counter and then pulling out the bottle of firewhiskey Percy had sent them. Which was, miraculously, not yet opened. "You've made a muck up of things, Perce. It's all right though. No on expects you to be as smart as us, so you're bound to screw it right up now and then."