(1938-11-16) Mice, Owls, Relationships
Details for Mice, Owls, Relationships
Summary: Douglas and Eibhlin discuss her breakup with Gus.
Date: 11.17.1938
Location: Owl Tower

Douglas is over in one side of the tower, feeding a mouse to a very, very small owl. Barely more than an owlet. Still, he's murmuring to it encouragingly, and has a genuine smile on his face.

Not that one has to knock when entering an area such as the tower, but Eibhlin does as she passes through the doorway. Having spotted the Gryffindor its little more than a light 'one two' rap of knuckles to let him know someone's there. "Douglas?"

Douglas looks up from the owl, giving an easy smile. "Shine," he responds softly, then pauses, digging in his pocket for another mouse. "Catch," he insists, telling the owl clearly and slowly, "Eibhlin Shine," before tossing the dead mouse over, the owl swooping to follow it.

Eibhlin acks, give her a little more warning next time. Hmm? Who exactly was supposed to catch that anyway? Her or the owl? Either way there's a 'thing' being thrown at her and Evie ducks just a bit, hands up to either catch or deflect - whichever happens.

"You were supposed to catch it," Douglas chides, even as the owl sits happily on the floor, tearing pieces off the mouse. "I'm training him to learn names." He lifts his chin, tucking his thumbs into his belt. "How's things, anyway? You all right?"

"Sorry," Eibhlin replies, "I wasn't expecting it," sending a glance towards the owl and then back to Douglas. And she's a terrible catch. "Alright I suppose," she returns for the question. "I did want to apologize to you and Medusa for Rousseau's behavior. It was…" well they were both there.

"It was Gus," Douglas supplies, rolling his eyes. "He's a good lad, but everything's a major drama with him, y'know? Everything's all or nothing. He's French."

Eibhlin nods slightly, "I suppose," she agrees. "If I'd known it would turn out like that," a shake of her head. If she'd known it might still have been the same result. "Anyway, I'm sorry." That's been said though and instead of go on its owls that become the topic, they being the most readily available distraction. "So that's how you teach them names? Throw dead rodents at people?"

"So you're a single woman, eh?" Douglas suggests, waggling his brows, then grins. "Yeah, pretty much. Well, it's one way to start, anyway. Teach them to associate the name with food, see? Then once they're getting the hang of that, you can move to showing them pictures, and then you move on to maps. It takes a pretty long time. My dad's the top man for it, but even I can do the basics here." He reaches into his pocket for the last mouse from his bag, holding it out on the back of his fist and whistling for the owl's attention. "Douglas Macmillan."

"It would seem so," Eibhlin replies, the brief frown the crosses her features evidence that she's still conflicted about it. "I see," she adds in answer to the explanation, "Maybe a little more warning next time?" she suggests.

Douglas lifts the owl on his fist, stroking a finger lightly down the bird's plumage. "Duly noted. But seriously, Shine, you all right, aye? If you need me to give him a punch in the face, you let me know."

Eibhlin shakes her head, "No, I don't think that's necessary," she assures. No violence, please. "Its not that I don't like him, Macmillan," she admits, but its some owl up in the rafters that she settles her gaze on when she explains. "Just, like I was telling Medusa, we come from such different places, it feels like it would never work. And then like you said with him its all or nothing."

Douglas nods a little to that, glancing at her. "So you can't just… y'know. Enjoy it while it lasts, with Gus. Give the guy a snog, and next thing he'll be proposing marriage. It's how he is. I'll have a word with him when he's sober, but I can't cope with the moping." He shrugs. "Men shouldn't mope."

Eibhlin nods, he knows his friend that's for sure. "No," she agrees, "They shouldn't. Not like that anyway." Even she's handling it better. "I mean he says a picnic, you'd think some tea and biscuits, maybe some sweets," or at least she would, "And he concocts this perfect scene with flowers and music and everything," its here that she finally turns back to Douglas knowing full well he may have had something to do with that after all. "It was overwhelming."

Douglas holds up his free hand. "Look, I never expected him to do everything, just for a picnic," he defends himself. "Maybe one or two suggestions. Not all of them. But that's Gus, right?" He shrugs. "All or nothing. What you need, Shine, is a decent Scottish lad. Maybe a Macmillan. Maybe one whose name starts with D, and who is incredibly good looking, good with owls, that sort of thing." He flashes a grin. "I should try to fix Gus up with Lowe. That'd be funny."

Eibhlin laughs, "Okay, okay, it wasn't all your fault then," she agrees. A smile comes to her lips as she gives a shake of her head, "Someone like you then, hmm?" His suggestion was rather obvious. "Maybe you should give him time to get over one girl at a time."

"Someone like me," Douglas agrees cheerfully, giving her a grin. "When Malfoy ditches me for leaving dirty dishes in the sink or crumbs in bed, I'll come and find you, eh?"

"Sounds like a deal," Eibhlin agrees, her mood lifting just a bit more for the laughter. "Thanks Macmillan. And when you talk to him, don't let him tell you I didn't say why," she did hear that at the pub. "I tried." He knows how Gus is though, and her trying to admit insecurities. Well it was a train wreak waiting to happen.

"What did you actually tell him?" Douglas queries, raising a brow. "Maybe he just needs a translation from 'girl' into 'boy'."

What exactly she said even she's not certain of anymore. "That he didn't need to try and impress me, its not always about the effort or the money," Eibhlin recalls. "He said something about me planning the date, but you and I both know it would have been five times worse when it ended if I'd agreed."

Douglas nods, stroking the owl thoughtfully. "Aye, fair enough, fair enough… all right, look, I'll have a word. He's not a bad lad. He's just… enthusiastic. Good luck, all right?" He gives her a nod, turning, owl still on his fist, for the stairs.

Eibhlin nods, "Thank you," she sends after the Gryffindor, "You too."

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