The dark-haired wizard studied the bride.  Something in her expression, in her tone softened his own.  "Casey Murphy's a man of his word, ma'am."  That seemed somehow insufficient, given the circumstances.  The grey-eyed wizard added -somewhat belatedly- "He's old fashioned.  Makes a man remember to be the man he wants to be."  Another silence stretched.  "I'll find you once he arrives."  He added finally.  "You have my word."<br/><br/>Satisfied that he wouldn't leave the woman wondering, Dalton James turned to find the groom's prep-room.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>Fifteen minutes later, Casey was sitting in the prep-room alone, trying to come to terms with the tummult of emotion warring in his mind.  Grief was the prime motivator of the moment, seconded by hope.  His eyes kept flicking to the door.  Dalton was suspiciously absent, although he thought he'd seen his friend darting off 'round a corner.  He could have used his company.  The waiting was the worst part.  He'd paced the room for a while, made sure his tie was straight, brushed at the lapels of his vest, and returned to his seat about five times each.  It felt like he was wasting time.  Idle.  Only there was nothing to do but be married.<br/><br/>His brothers wouldn't be coming.  They were each grieving.  Some of his extended family in the area were there, but the last thing he wanted was pity.  If he saw it naked on their faces, he didn't know if he could keep up his own facade, thin though it was.<br/><br/>A knock came to the door of the dressing room, and Casey was on his feet and over to it in a twinkling.