[It's hard to know how best to put this. Because D'artagnan isn't entirely wrong, though he's not exactly right, either. But could anyone—namely, Lucy's guardians—accept that their innocent, young queen had believed a man over two hundred eighty years of age might pay her suit?

That seems highly unlikely, and should they think Tobias had beguiled her, it may cost his life.]

Is it so odd to say you're both correct and not, on both accounts? I am displaced in time, though perhaps not nearly as much as so many others. My experiences are those of several lifetimes, and nostalgia sparks my hunger for simpler times, propriety, and courtesy. How easy it is to slip into old customs, old ways, when one meets others who might recognize them.

[A beat.]

I understand your concern, completely. Please believe that I take no pleasure in grieving her, and that I have no desire to inflict upon her any hurt or anguish, for she is a dear friend to me. But all of us have flaws and faults, and I cannot truly guarantee we will always be free of accidents and misunderstandings. What can I do to appease you? What can I do to assure you that I bear no ill-will toward her or any of you?