A hurt expression flickered over the Auror's face.  He pressed his mouth tightly shut for a moment, and then levered himself back to his feet, taking care as he shifted the weight onto his injured leg.

There was no doubt that he was being dismissed.  Dreogan had risen and was holding his hand out for the cup of tea that Jonas had barely touched.  The conversation was over; they had ended at a standstill, exactly as he had expected that they would.

But that didn't mean that they had to abandon civility.

"Well, thanks anyhow," he said, reaching out to grip the other man's hand briefly as if he'd offered an awkward left-handed handshake instead of a dismissal.  "I'm sorry that that's how we have to leave it.  You don't need to drop in at the house later; Anna and I can figure something else out," he added quietly.  "You want me to ask Adon to stop by so that you can talk to him?"

Jonas wasn't sorry -- or it wouldn't have happened like this. The uninvitation stung as well. Properly cut out of the plan, his brother's life, and Jonas' as well, Dreogan was leaving, feeling empty handed, even with the awkward handshake. One thing was certain: he was not going to let Jonas Trevelyan become the avenue through which he communicated to his own brother.

"No." Dreogan said, briefly taking the man's hand before dropping it to his side. "I can talk to him myself." He reached out for the door, swinging it wide. "Have a good day, Jonas."

Closing the door moments after the Auror had crossed the threshold, Dreogan turned to rest his weight against it, looking up at the ceiling as he sniffed, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face and swallowed a coarse sob.