It would probably be really wise to just. Stay right where he is, possibly finish the dregs of the bottle they've been working on, go and have a lie down. Instead, Lucius tips his head back a little to watch her go, before drawing in a breath, setting cane against the ground, and pushing himself up to stand.

He follows, slower than her pace, but shadowing along by the time she greets them ever so warmly. His shoulders both slack and tense in automatic physical response at seeing his younger counterpart, sort of the human equivalent of a canine pressing its ears flat against its skull. Both war and a bit of wine are effective properties to wear down his usual veneers and affectations.

Not for Severus, though, he got the text. Just didn't reply.