| Details for Bird is the Word |
| Summary: | Douglas checks up on Myrus' and Elizabeths relationship status |
| Date: | 1938-11-19 |
| Location: | Viaduct louvre |
| Related: | 1938-11-16 Business and Drunken Gits |
| Characters |
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The fight with Esther, Julian getting pulled to Pringle's office. Pringle pulling a wand out when Julian's back was turned. It all just makes him want to do something drastic, but Myrus knows he can't. Not yet anyway.
Tuesday morning. Myrus didn't have class until a little later today, closer to the noon hour, just one before lunch. Tuesday was his easy morning day. Other than it being really cold up here. The shifting temperature of cold to even colder up higher meant that the winds had actually died down for a few minutes, making this moment picturesque to look out at the cliffs, and the loch, and other parts of the castle near the aqueduct.
Douglas makes his way up the stairs into the louvre, giving Myrus a brief nod of acknowledgement, hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Lowe," he greets, glancing upwards.
Myrus turns his head, drawn out of some thought as Douglas makes his way into the louvre. "MacMillan," he replies, crossing his arms over his chest. Apparently he didn't want to talk very much right now. To anyone.
Douglas reaches down for a pebble, tossing it up at the shingles to dislodge anything there. "Who's pissed on your strawberries?" he queries, blunt as ever.
"You look like you could strangle a cat."
"Oh, y'know, that petition? The guy that wrote it up was taken from the common room, after Pringle pointed his wand at him.. no reason given for why he was taking him, other than 'rabble rousing'. It's a load of tripe if you ask me."
He pauses for a few moments, "I yelled at Esther. Don't feel quite right arguing with her while raisin my voice." He sounded rather guilted about that part, and furious about the other.
"The guy who wrote it's a bloody idiot," Douglas points out, shrugging. "I mean, if you're going to write something which boils down to 'Flint is a dickhead', you don't put your own name at the top. He'll get detention and that'll be that. Trust me, I've been pulled in by Pringle enough to know. As for Esther… look, she's all right. Bit nutty, but she's all right. Give her a break, eh?"
Myrus nodded in somewhat understanding agreement with Douglas on that, he had a point. But Esther.. "What do you care? I thought you and Medusa were back together. And I've seen how she acts around Medusa. Who's the one that needs to give her a break, really?"
Douglas arches a brow, tucking his thumbs into his belt. "What, you think the only reason to lay off on a person is because you want in her pants? Medusa's nothing but good to her, looks out for her and all that." He leans back against the wall. "Look, mate, Esther's trying to please everyone all the time, and it's driving her nuts. She worries about everything, y'know?" He shrugs. "Anyway, how's it going with your bird?"
Myrus looks at Douglas in surprise with his mouth slightly agape when he mentions bird. All the other stuff about esther and him and Medusa was understandable and maybe believable enough to overlook at the moment Douglas calls Elizabeth that.
Mouth snaps shut, eyes stay on Doug for a moment while his head turns, eyes a moment later following suit to look away. "I guess you could call her that. But if you mean Elizabeth, she's fine." Who else could it mean, dummy? Internal question aimed at himself, which causes him to smirk a little and dip his chin a bit.
Douglas nods a little. "'Fine'," he echoes, raising a brow. "So you're squared away with her? It's all going well? Look, mate, I'm only asking because I figure if I can help matters, I will. Y'know. I've got a bit of experience with what women like and all that. And Medusa's set me on making sure you make your bird happy, so I'm here to back you up. All right?"
"I'm courting her.. not duelling her." Myrus shakes his head. Then looks at Doug strangely, "Why does it matter anyway? If Medusa has concern in something, one can bet a few quid on it that she has something vested in it. So why did she send you?" Myrus was skeptical, not answering any more of Douglas' questions just yet.
Douglas half grins. "We've got a deal," he admits. "She's going to give my mate Gus a hand with his girl issues, and in exchange I'm to step up to help you. Probably to help sort Esther out, so she's not worrying so much any more, I dunno. And… well, I'll be honest with you, mate. There's money riding on it. I reckon I can get you sorted out square with your girl way before Medusa can get Gus sorted out."
Myrus' look at Douglas now turns to disgust. "And people called -me- pathetic. Much on all of you. Meddling with people's lives.. and you've got money riding on it?" Myrus thinks for a moment. "Well, I guess you're just out of luck then, because I finally did something right," said like he doesn't even know what it is he did correctly, "and she kissed me this time. So.." he holds up a hand towards the older boy in a kind of 'step back' manner, "you can just take your help somewhere else." There, that should tell him! "Funny thing about betting on races. The people in the stands aren't the ones pushing the participants." He'd heard of racing. Dogs, horses. Even people. But what little he'd seen, didn't involve the betters getting on the track and kicking the backsides of those racing.
Douglas just laughs, holding up his hand. "All right, prickly knickers! Just asking, mate! So you've got her hooked, then? Well, good on you I say. I'll go back to Medusa and tell her I've won already, then. Look, I'm actually pleased for you. I like her. She's a good one. You've done well, lad."
Compliments? It wasn't often that Myrus got those from someone other than instructors, parents, younger students in the duelling club, or a select few in his own house. So he tilts his head for just a second, "Yeah? You really think so?" He dips his chin again and smiles. "I mean, I agree with you. Just never thought how other people thought of her."
Douglas grins, nodding cheerfully. "Oh aye, I really think so. Don't fuck it up now, you hear?"
"Of course not," he says, turning and heading to the stairs to get out of the Louvre. "Have a good one, MacMillan." And with that, he would head out of there, unless Douglas had something else to say or would follow him out.