Not exactly what Lucius meant, but while his younger self may be inclined to make corrections, the older one is more intent on sipping his whiskey and scanning a look about the tavern in-- misplaced social anxiety. This would never happen, obviously, but more than that, the opportunity to socialise without it being a foolhardy thing to do is a few years expired, and new habits can die as hard as the old ones.

"You would never once suspect that they would use this knowledge to ensure the victory of the side he is already Marked with? Or has no one expressed to you the promises the Dark Lord liked to colour to the edges?"

He rolls the whiskey around in its container, idly clicking ice as he meets LeMat's less assuming stare with a harder one in return. "Presuming, of course, that it is even possible to affect change in that manner. But I don't know what you mean by Gateshead -- you're older than I know you to be." He assumes, naturally, that this is reference to some other terribleness that has not yet come to pass for him.