[ Merlin's beard no longer seems an appropriate exclamation. Merlin's ears, perhaps.

He tries not to stop short, but there's a half-second of pause in his grip. Be reasonable, he chides. Even with the events of the day, there's no reason to assume that this man and the legend are one and the same.

At least not until the towel heats in his hands. ]

Ah -- thank you! Very kind of you. Enchanted, is it?

[ Albus manages to tear his glance away, inspecting the stitches with a curious eye before looking back up. This time his gaze is steady. ]

It's good to know I'm not the first to fly the white flag. Discretion and dry feet are the better parts of valour.

[ He's curious, beyond curious. But where does he even begin to ask? There'd been a fashion in the late 1890s for the name, as there was at least once or twice a century -- hell, even muggles tossed it out from time to time. Merlin Matthew Jones among his first years was proof enough of that, trampling through the halls in his hand-me-down farm boots.

Still, another Merlin Matthew is no less worth knowing. ]

Merlin. A name of some repute where I come from, they even put it on the sweets.

[ Albus smiles. ]

Personally, I aspire to as much.