Bertie flushed rather brightly. Helpless? Yes, he supposed he was helpless.

They would be telling him to 'hold still, and don't touch anything' any moment.

Coughing perhaps a touch too loudly into his fist, reminiscent of a disgruntled goat to one's immediate left, he soldiered on. Stiff upper lip, he reminded himself.

"Right-ho!" he said, cheerfully. "Let us be off, so we may make with the cavorting, what?"