"I wasn't aware champagne could be quite so sticky," Tintin uttered as he stepped out of the car, fidgeting with the seat of his suit trousers. "I still don't feel I quite got it all."

"Should have gone with a drier variety," Haddock drawled thoughtfully, and the reporter laughed.

"See? At the end of the day, you've still got a thing or two to teach me."

"Even though it was you who was seeing me through that - that torturous trial of a-"

"Captain, it was hardly a trial, it was just a few gentlemen walking us through the process-"

"Yeah, and I wonder what conclusions they were drawing, the gibbering anthropoids..."

"Oh, but you know I wouldn't let them draw any conclusions. I refuse to be drawn, visage crêpelé, as should you."

"Well, with all the trouble and humiliation we went through we may as well have been getting hitched," the Captain said, and before Tintin could protest the boy found himself being lifted and slung over the former's shoulder unceremoniously as he ascended the steps of the manor and hummed 'Here Comes The Bride'.

"What are you - hey!" the reporter cried, though he couldn't contain his tumultuous laughter as it was forced from him with prodding, tickling fingers. He wriggled off of Haddock as the two crossed the threshold, sinking to the floor red-faced with a hand clapped over his mouth, try as the Captain might to hold onto his arms. He had never seen the ginger so stricken with the giggles, so abruptly and gleefully lost in happiness, and it made his resolve crumble as well as he too, began howling.

It was good to be home.