"You sure?" Drake said, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Yeah, I get my laundry delivered, I don't use house-elves though, they're just," he said, giving a half shudder and shaking his head. "My agent's personal assistant for me does it. She also makes sure all the bills are paid on time and that stuff..." Drake trailed off looking at Carys' face and it was kind of fucked up. She looked halfway between a sneeze and something else, like some of the babies the women brought to press events before they did something disgusting in their pants. He sorely hoped she wasn't acting that crazy.

He took ahold of her elbow and gave it a light squeeze, "Are you okay? They're not mine if that's what you're implying," he tried to joke, but with his serious face it didn't actually come off as funny. "Look, I don't know whose they are, if they're yours I'd probably recognize them but I really have no clue what you're talking about. I'm not cheating either."