"Oi, you sent the nasty invitation, you right bitch!" Was someone else in the crowd going to accost him for insulting the bride on her wedding day? Maybe, maybe not.
But it was true -- she'd sent the invitation to him to spite him, didn't he have some sort of bizarre right to do the same thing and at least cause a bit of a scene at her wedding? He wrapped the veil around his waist and snorted, arching his brow.
"And I'll have you know," he swayed only slightly, pointing a finger in her general direction (for the most part), "I was PLANNING to apparate outside and give you one las' look at my glorious arse before you had to deal with your skinny, flat-arsed musician." Bertram sniffed, thinking that perhaps now would be a good time to leave - you know, before Franzy tried to flay him or something.
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