Never before had he been so flummoxed by a simple greeting. The etiquette for dealing with upset girls still largely escaped him, and Arthur was already beginning to see where he had gone wrong here.

He should have called Katchoo. She would have yelled. At least that would have been comforting and familiar.

"Francine," he began, in a tone of voice that was entirely too upbeat for the situation. "Merlin tells me you're in a bit of a state." Did anyone need to be maimed? Because he could do that.