"Lady—" Mr. Gallagher began again, his eyes wide with recognition.
"George!" Mrs. Gallagher grabbed her husband's arm, cutting him off sharply. She pulled him back, offering Lyra an apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry. My husband is confusing you with someone we knew years ago."
Lyra blinked, caught off guard by the intense way the elderly man stared at her. "It's... it's alright."
Percival stepped forward, placing himself slightly in front of Lyra. His posture was casual, but the message was clear—back off.
"We should go," he said quietly to Lyra, his hand finding the small of her back again.
She nodded, relieved. As they walked away, she could feel the couple's eyes following them, sending an uncomfortable chill down her spine.
Once Lyra and Percival had disappeared through the hospital doors, Mrs. Gallagher turned to her husband with a severe expression.
"George! Have you lost your mind? You nearly called her 'Lady South' to her face!"
