| Details for Through My Eyes |
| Summary: | After the derisive conversation between Lucretia and Geneveive, Silas makes an attempt to settle Geneveive's nerves, and present her with a gift. However, the appearance of an unexpected guest Duncan, and later an unwanted (yet not unwarrented) call out from Silas, Genevieve nearly breaks down in public. The scene moves later to the Quidditch Pitch, where Silas unveils his master plan for Genevieve. |
| Date: | 1938-12-08 |
| Location: | Three Broomsticks |
| Related: | Mint-nicking |
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Silas watches for a moment as Jenny orders yet another drink… his brow raised slightly. For now, he says nothing, but the little nugget is set to the side for later review. "Yes, he did. Wouldn't want you to be stuck with something ill-fitting, after all." Again that grin slips to the side, even after he watches the two leave, "I really don't know what her issue was," he offers a moment later, "you weren't even sitting in my lap this time."
He then looks at the package this time, and looks at Jenny again, "Yes, I did. Not for any real slight or actual peace offering… but because I wanted to." He looks at it again, "Aren't you even the slightest bit curious?"
"I sneezed," Jenny supplies, with some small manner of annoyance. "My nose is too long. I forgot she was a Black. I didn't feel like sitting over there with her and Macmillan. I was, gods forbid, polite to someone younger than me, as if this should surpise anyone at all. But I shouldn't say any of these things, because if I do, then it becomes an act for attention." Okay. So..perhaps Jenny wasn't comping particularly..well at the moment. "I opt for being nice, because I catch quite enough flack for simply existing without staring down my nose at people all the time and it's starting to piss me off." Deep breath, Jenny, deep breath.
"I'm sorry." There, that was dutiful, but sincere at the same time and just looking at him did help smooth some of her ruffled feathers. At his admission though and his question, she angled to better face him there on her stool. "I am," she admits. "But I was afraid it was going to be a dress and the little brat had already been such a pain that the idea of a rumor about you having to dress me so I'd be good enough to be around you was just…well, it was one more thing I couldn't bare in the moment. I'm sorry."
He's chinked her armor. The vunerability from the night prior, still haunted in the depths of her eyes, so the slights aren't rolling off quite as easily as they otherwise should.
Silas actually smirked for a bit, "The little girl with the snubby little flat nose actually felt the need to comment on yours?" He won't be tweaking hers for the time being, though… not after that realization. He nods with understanding, though, and pokes at the package, even while motioning over toward one of the booths.
"I had no idea that you were in such a state, and I'm sorry. I didn't pick up on any of the subtext at all. Otherwise I wouldn't have egged you on myself quite so much." He then smiles, "She's no longer here to start rumors, though."
"Her mother had a spell to fix it," Jen remarks of her nose, unable to help the smile, nor the chuckle that came as direct result of his teasing. But it helped her over the last edge; enough so that she leaned to the side, letting her arm rest against his, as her head fell to the side to settle on his shoulder.
That smile was slowly growing too, by the second as she finally allowed herself a moment to enjoy the situation. "You can egg whenever you like. I still can't believe you actually bought me a present. I mean, I had planned on getting you something for Christmas," it wouldn't be Christmas without presents after all and she had promised that she'd give him a proper one, "Just..you bought me a present." And there, without school chums beyond him to witness it, Jenny smile. It was a silly thing, just this side of dopey. It warmed her entire face, made her eyes shine and then?
Neat wrapping went flying in absolutely all directions as she attacked the package with vigor.
"I bought you a present because I wanted to." Silas offers, settling in comfortably as she does the same, "Christmas will come later… I'm still working on that for you. But, with all the talk of dresses and robes and trousers last night, I saw this and thought immediately of you…"
When she opens the package, it's clear that quite a few galleons when into this gift. It's trousers… riding trousers to boot, with dragon hide armouring in all the right places to be specifically helpful for a quidditch player, while still looking attractive and fashionable. Paired with it a matching pair of dragonhide gloves.
"Like I said," he continues, "I had to guess at your size… but they'll make sure it's perfect for flying in, if you bring it by the shop."
"Well you didn't have too," Jenny points out again, just incase he keeps somehow missing it and when he mentions the talk of dresses and robes, but mostly dresses; as the last of the paper falls and the ribbon's left lying across her thighs as she settles the box on her thighs a worried look is cast in his direction. "Is there a dress in this box, Sy? Because good manners would make me obligated to wear it, at least once but I don't think that I wou—."
It stopped right there, Jenny having lifted the lid off the box and prodded at the paper to find, "…" Blink. Blink. Jenny's jaw had dropped, the girl staring agog at the neat way the gloves were folded over the riding trousers, her fingers lightly caressing the material. "Silas!" She exclaimed, her head snapping up in his direction, before her eyes fell back on the box and then up again, to him. "I..you..I don't know what to say!"
But she could figure out what to do, at least, because the girl twisted her torso around; legs bumping into his from knee to thigh to throw her arms in around his neck and absolutely squishy-squeeze-hug him for everything that she was worth. "They're perfect! Thank you. Thank you so much!"
Silas just sat there initially through all the warnings and admonishments, a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face, until the moment she opens it. That look right there… that mixture of happiness and shock, that's burned into his mind as he watches her react.
The hug, of course, comes as a complete shock since, after all, the boy still isn't used to be the recipient of such, but is accepted immediately, and returned albeit without quite as much crushing.
"You're welcome, Jen." is pretty much all he can say at this point, but the smile on his face says far more.
"I just can't believe…," Jenny whispers and with a little shake of her head and perhaps the gentleness of his own return on that hug, she realizes just how much she's squeezing and backs off. But not before kissing his cheek. "This is too much!" The girl quietly exclaims, before almost reverently lifting the trousers from the box to admire them. "Too much," again that little half whispered murmur, before she hugs the riding trousers in against her chest and breathes in the scent of new materials.
"But it's perfect and I don't know what to say. I'm not..," she begins and ends up gnawing on her bottom lip instead. "This hasn't…" Destroyed. He's destoryed her ability to talk. Again. "You're amazing, Sy. I can't wait to have an excuse to wear them."
"That's all I can ask," Silas offers back at her response, although the kiss, no matter how chaste, does soften his smile, cause him to look down ever so slightly, and yes, even bring a slight tinge of red to his cheeks again.
"I'm just glad it was the right call. Would you believe that one of their attendants actually suggested /frills/ when it was clear I wasn't the one who would be wearing them? Dragon just seemed so much more… you. Fierce. Strong." He shrugs, leaning back now, "You'll have to let me know when. I can't wait, either."
"It was perfect." She can't help but agree again, still in absolute awe of the gift. And as that color creeps out over his cheeks, Jenny is kind enough not to make mention of it. Instead, she's trying on her gloves; fitting her fingers into the supple dragonhide and wiggling them about, testing her grip.
"You'd look better in frills than I would," she teases, reaching out to lightly bop him on the nose with a gloved finger. "These feel amazing!" She just, can't get over it. Even if he makes her blush when words like fierce and strong are used. "I'm hoping we can get a practice in, before everyone scatters for the holidays, if we do you should come watch! I'll wear them and if we don't….then we'll play, just the two of us, when we go to France. I refuse to wait until our next game just to get a chance to wear them out. Heck, I'm going to try them on as soon as I get back to school tonight. I can model for you." Mark those last words. Quidditch attire will be the only thing, ever, Genevieve Solomon offers to model.
Silas responds with his own laughter, especially when Jenny steals his nose-flick maneuver, "I don't know about better, but you can bet I can pull it off. You should see some of the dress robes I've gathered. If there's one thing my mother actually pays attention to me for, it's that. And I can't fault her taste there."
His only response to the offer of modeling is a slight smirk with his head cocked to the side, "We'll have to see, then."
"I have…that pair that was required and it fits, rather well but..I dunno, I don't have the same confidence that you do when it comes to pulling things off. People expect you to be fashionable, I just look silly when I try it." Her nose wrinkled at the thought and once again, Jenny threw her arms in around Sy's neck for another big hug.
"But, this is perfect. This is beyond perfect. My mother is going to absolutely adore you for this," Jenny teases, chuckling and settling back with a sigh. He's been enough, lightening her mood, distracting her; the glass of whiskey she'd ordered when things had gone so sour? Forgotten and nudged away, out of reach to the other side of the table.
"But you've set the bar now. I've no idea what to get for you and it's not even Christmas yet." Which at least gives her time to think. To learn more. To personalize. His gift had been so absolutely perfect. "Oh! Have you eaten? We could go have lunch, if you wanted? Or try the fair here? Or..oh, and at some point, we should work out the details of our trip."
Silas says, "It's all about knowing what works well, what you're confident in, and in realizing that the only people whose opinion about it matters are your own, and those you actually care about." Silas offers as he accepts the hug again, the position almost familiar now, even as he looks over the table, "And don't try to worry yourself over Christmas too much. Any gift you give will be wonderful, I am sure of it. It will be lovely just getting one. Honest."
At the mention of food, his stomach actually growls, a sullen sort of gurgle even he wasn't expecting. "I actually hadn't thought of food… although now that you mention it, I'm almost tempted to try the fare here just because the others so instantly maligned it." Grabbing a menu, since the very existence of these caused Alphard and Ria to sneer last night, he begins to look it over."
"You'd think I could nail something like that no problem." But Jenny actually cared what people thought of her, even when she knew she shouldn't. Pride? Or just some strange misplaced kindness in her heart? "One? Oh no. It's going to be a proper Christmas. I have…plans." Some of which involve the sorts of silly little..well, "Just wait and see." A mischievous smile then, while she offered a wink in his direction and settled back, content to simply rest against him as she gently began working the gloves off her fingers to return to the box.
"I admit I was thinking about it when I came in, then all that mess distracted me and then the smell of that stupid cigarette sent me to sneezing and turned my stomach. What it is with everyone smoking these days? It does not make them look more mature. It just makes them stink." Literally. But he'd a menu then and the girl leaned in a little better to peer down. "Oo, roast pheasant! We could share one, if you wanted?"
For a moment, Silas peers at Jenny quizzically as she makes mention of 'plans'. How in-depth these plans might be actually gives him the slightest amount of pause, although he does his best not to let that show through. "Plans," he simply repeats, letting out a slight chuckle.
As Jenny states her preference, he nods, flagging down a server to order, a process that takes only a moment, before he continues on, "I don't get it either. At least not the starting of it. I've heard that some Muggles claim it has health benefits, but I can't see it. If I understand correctly, however, once people start it's difficult to stop. I just don't see the point in starting. It smells horrendous."
"Yes," Jenny returns Silas' quizzical look with an all too innocent smile. "But I promise, I do, that no one will be harassed, no people harmed, nothing foul at all about it. Oh and nothing will be broken either, unless there's some hidden side of you I haven't seen yet that's prone to breaking things, but if that happens it'll not be my fault. It's not bad, I promise!" She didn't want the poor boy to worry, after all!
"I've tried it before, at a party or two. If I've had several good drinks in me, then it doesn't really bother me as much for some reason but if I'm sober? I can't stop thinking about people licking ashtrays and just imagining the taste. I thought it was supposed to be a French thing, anyway?" Which reminded her, "That was french you were talking earlier, wasn't it? What was that..charming little creature going on about anyway?" Charming creature perhaps something of an understatement.
"Oh, I'm sure it is. Doesn't mean I ever had the taste for it. Doubt I ever will, either." Silas answers, then rolls his eyes at the mention of Lucretia. "Yes. Ultimately, she commented on how seeing so many couples made her feel ill. I reminded her to be aware of who might actually understand her." His nose wrinkles, "No clue what her problem was."
"I was only teasing," Jenny replies, wriggling her nose in the boy's direction and turning to more properly face him again. "So, we're a couple that makes her feel ill. Does this mean that we're…good at being a pair, or that we're terrible? If there's something that I should be working on then, perhaps someone could give us pointers? Except, I'm not really sure what they'd be or really, if I'd want to know."
"So…what's you're favorite color? Animal? Candy? Book? Hobby? Place to be? Quidditch team?" And one by one, Jenny fired off the questions and incase she should forget, flagged down one of the servers so that she could borrow a piece of parchment and a quill to take proper notes!
"Oh and holiday food! Must know that."
The doorbell jingles. A tall figure enters the establishment. The cold helped with the crowds. He still wasn't used to this famous sports professional status yet. Wasn't sure he'd ever be used to it. Getting in, scarf from over face, tophat off, coat off. Tonight wasn't finery, but it was at least a baggey-sleeved shirt with tight-ish cuffs, and a red padded vest over that, and black trousers that as well tapered into red and black marblized pattern boots that were mostly hid under the long overcoat a few moments before. Felt tophat was removed and set on the top of the coat rack (or a higher hangar on the wall) before he exhales in relief from the cold. "Glad this place is slow. Tender! A scotch, please!" And Duncan Potter would make his way to the bar in the shortest route possible. As little eye contact with those there as he cou-
Aroo? What is this? A voice asking a million questions that he recognizes? His head and eyes turn before he gets belly-up to the bar to spy Silas and Jenny. "Oh, hello there." As amicable as could be.
Silas offers quiet laughter at the thought, "Frankly, I must assume that we're doing it well, if she's so disapproving. Of course, it stands to reason that, since we didn't exactly DO much in the sense of being a couple, that we must clearly radiate such an aura of 'rightness' that she simply couldn't take it. Point one to our team, then."
Then come the questions, and he holds up both hands in immediate surrender, "I don't recall being warned of an inquisition incoming! This is madness!" The laughter punctuating this should be enough to show just how little he actually means it.
Then there is a minutely familiar voice saying hello.. . But not familiar in the way he would expect, from a current classmate. He turns to look over at Duncan, and doesn't manage to place him… too many years between them at Hogwarts He offers Jenny a look, to see if perhaps she recognizes the man.
"Mmm, this is true. I'd say were doing smashingly," Jenny agrees, amusement twinkling in her eyes. "Sort of the way you smashed that snowball in against the back of my head yesterday." It comes with such a crooked grin; the girl leaning in to give a light little shoulder-bump of companionship before she licks the tip of her quill and strikes a poke; one that she manages to hold for all of a few heartbeats before his gestures and his laughter, shatter her intense look of concentration.
Instead Jenny disolves into a fit of giggles, "It is not! It's planning. I'm planning. I told you I had plans. So here," parchment and quill both were offered in Sy's direction. "If you won't tell me then you must at least write it down or I swear that I'll not let up about it until you give in and tell me everything that I need to know."
Focused on Silas, Jenny doesn't pay much attention to the sound of someone else entering. Not even when the call for scotch was given, though the voice floated familiar in her head. Of course, when it say hello, she actually turned her eyes in the man's direction and…stared. A slowly turning smile touching the corner of her lips. "Why Duncan Potter, as I live and breathe."
He's served the scotch with a greeting, as he returns it to the tender on duty, raising his glass in appreciation of the service along with paying for it and the rest of the bottle, too. Oh? That much? Um, how about that other bottle there? Yeah, that sounds like a better budget, that does.
He gets the bottle from the tender, and starts towards the table of the occupants of which one recognizes him, and the other… is handed a quill and paper to write things down. "Genevieve Solomon. Merlins beard you've grown a little." A playful jab at a previous comment she made about growing to an expected height. Inside joke, if you will.
To Silas, eyes narrow as he points with a finger towards him from the bottle-holding hand, "Familiar face, I do not recall. Duncan Potter, though she already blabbed it out like a deaf goat," more picking on her. "Merlin's Beard I can't remember your name, I'm sorry." He'd stop nearby them, giving the understood respect of their personal space and some dignity before asking, "Do you mind if I join you?" A smile, and holding up the bottle and glass. "If you don't mind being treated to a few drinks."
It's about that time their their own meal, the roast pheasant arrives, along with a portion of vegetables cooked so well they can't possibly be healthy anymore, and two place settings. Silas looks to Genevieve, letting her take first crack at it while he takes the list, "Homework. At Hogsmeade. I should have figured," but again he offers that ever-present grin, and dutifully tucks both away. "I will. Later. But first…"
He looks to Duncan fully now, ticking things off in his head as Duncan tries to place him. "Potter… Potter… yes! Graduated two years ago? Now a… Beater…" A slight pause there that gives away that he may not be a true fan of the sport, "…on the Arrows, no less, right?" He's been doing his research, specifically to know Jenny's Mother's team. Anything to score points. He then offers a slight smile, "Silas Meliflua. Class of 39. Don't blame you for not remembering a fourth year Slytherin."
And again with the drink, and it being offered to Jenny. Silas' eyes narrow protectively, just a bit, but he keeps the smile going for now.
"Only a little?" Jenny inquires, carefully putting the lid back on the box that held her gift, since they had company walking over, but also because they were expecting food. For a moment though, Duncan had a glimpse of the clearly expensive riding trousers, custom made and padded with dragonhide specifically for Quidditch. While the gloves were made to match. There's no small amount of pride in her eyes either, as she settles it off beside her on the bench, to be clear for the meal.
"Three years ago," Jenny corrected Silas on just when Duncan graduated. "And you like homework." She flashed him a grin with the tease. "Putting it off isn't going to get you out of it either," she warned before helping him fill in the gaps. "Gryffindor. Picked up as second string. This was his first year as a starter. And they won, you'll recall. First game he knocked a fella off his broom, broke three bones. It was amazing." And it was Quidditch. And he was an Arrow. Jenny was a plethora of useless quidditch knowledge. Wait. "How did you know that?" The question was tossed Sy's way, while Jenny looked at him with a crooked little smile. "I didn't know you liked Quidditch!" But since he does, why, that's just something else to talk about, isn't it!
Of course, there was food and scotch and those roasted potatos were making her mouth water. "Sure, you can join us, but I don't blab like a goat and certainly won't turn down the treat." The girl grinned. And then, well, left them to talk while she tucked into the meal.
Duncan nods, and moves to use a foot to slide a chair from a nearby table to the nearest edge, and plop down. He stops before setting his bottle and glass on the table, "You two are of age to drink, ri-" he looks at the gift, and the meal, to Silas then to Jenny. "-OH! Am I interrupting something?" Sounded genuinely concerned that he'd come in on them during a date or something similiar. "I can leave you each with a glass and head my own way if I'm going to be a third wheel." An elbow to Silas, with a wink to him, "Nice choice in a gift. I use those, extremely worth the investment."
Oh Merlin, now she thinks he's a Qudditch fan. Silas inwardly groans, as now's not the time to correct with the truth, although he does offer back, "You think I would go completely unarmed to a holiday with your parents? Especially with your mother? It would hardly do to give the impression that I'm completely hopeless," There… worries allayed, right?
For his own part, Silas looks to the young celebrity and shakes his head, "A friendly outing, and always open to friends of Jen here. I'm not so jealous as to deny her that… especially considering she's far better with a beater bat than I, and already said you were welcome." Proper roles being played. Then regarding the gift, he beams, "I had to. It simply called out her name when I saw it. You know how it is."
Jenny chokes. Honest to goodness, wheezing on a potato, chokes between Duncan's question and Silas' admission of research. There's a moment, one that she spends thumping against her chest to try and dislodge the mix-up before she manages to clear her throat and get a proper drink. It happened to be of scotch. "You're not hopeless," Sy was reassured first, before she sent a smile Duncan's way.
"He's really not hopeless," added to Duncan. "He's my friend." The girl smiled in Sy's direction. "The best one I've got," nevermind that he was her only. "Even if I think he spent too much on those trousers. I still think they're perfect. But..I should..introduce you two…to each..uhm." Well. Wasn't this awkward. The best Jenny could pull off at the moment, was a pointed look at Sy and then, a shift of her eyes towards Duncan, slightly wider as if that would explain things. It had to explain things, right?
"Sy's never had a Christmas before, not a proper one. So, I'm doing Christmas for him this year. He's going to meet my mother." Lawd, let Duncan understand that one, too.
Duncan nods to Silas. "Oh, of course I do. And don't worry about mothers. For some of them, noone is good enough for their little girl." A look between the two of them, and Duncan walks over to the bar for a moment, asking for two more glasses, and returns with them in just a few moments. While returning, he notes, "Well, it should be fun then!" He exclaims, sitting down and pouring himself and Silas a glass before he himself takes up his new one, and raises it. "Then, to friends and moms. I don't know how to connect those two." He says the whole thing like it was written many years ago and rehearsed that way. Even though he just had to backtrack and subconciously note it was a terrible toast. But whatever! To drink!
And he takes his glass to his lips and finishes at least half of it before sitting it back down with an exhale at the strong flavor.
"So, how long you two been together?" A look at Silas, "The word 'jealous' doesn't come up between just friends." A wink, and a smile to Jenny after that. Some ass-ish smile. Like he knew exactly what he was doing, and you can't stop me nyah ne nyah ne boo boo.
And wouldn't it be just too fair to both Jenny and Silas if he were to be completely aware of the subtext of the current situation, or that Silas was actually sitting across from the man he was effectively playing beard to, without knowing. No… he catches Jenny's reaction, and her pointed looks, but gets entirely the wrong impression, which makes it even more obviously confusing when she describes him as he best friend.
After all, it's statistically impossible that he would run into the man less than 24 hours after learning of his existence. And so, he continues to play the part, "Oh, you would be surprised. You have to remember which House we belong to. Jealousy is an active part of every relationship, it seems." He holds up his glass to the toast, and smiles widely before taking a miniscule sip of the liquor. The cup is laid down, "It's a… new arrangement." He looks to Jenny with a knowing smile, "We're still getting somewhat used to it.
Oh dear. It really has been that kind of day. Really and truly it has. "Carefully. You connect those two carefully and generally, make sure that it's something the latter will approve of. Honestly, I can't think of a single reason why they're not going to love Sy. He's got the same interests as my Da' and the House and the drive behind him to appeal to my Mum and he's bloody clever," Jenny compliments, flashing Sy a smile. It..gets a little confused, with his following explination though.
"Well it is new. Sort of the way this weekend was new, last minute trip to Hogsmeade that none of us were really warned about before it happened. I didn't know you were going to be in town, Potter. Of course, it's probably a good thing. If anyone had known, you'd have had half your fanclub showing up, no doubt." Is Jenny drinking…a little more? Yes. Stress drinker? Perhaps, perhaps.
"How long are you around for?"
Long distance to Duncan: Genevieve meanwhile, stretched a slender foot out beneath the table to brush in, against the curve of Duncan's calf because she /was/ glad to see him. Damn glad.
"Yes, true. Slytherin did have a tendency for being a little.. controlling in certain areas." He looks up and away, pondering. "Yeah, I think that's the right word." Then he lifts his own glass up for a moment to take a sip, paused at Silas' last word, but Duncan doesn't comment on it.
He just nodded, really is all until Jenny spoke about Silas. Duncan smiles at her explanation. "Well then, I think you've found yourself a keeper." A laugh to himself, quidditch joke. "I heard it as a passing comment of one of the trainers coming back to see his little cousin or something. That was friday, and I only had a chance to get here by today. And yes, probably would have had all of the females in Hufflepuff, and half of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw out here. .. And at least a couple Slytherin." He looks at her, "Well, it really all does depend on who I'm coming to see, and how long they are available." A shrug, and he goes to take that last drink, which is quickly brought down to the table before he can even take a sip, a bew blinks, and a smile while he finishes a few more swigs all at once.
Silas may have not caught on quickly, but that doesn't mean he's not got an ear for carefully worded text, or seemingly coded phrases like what's being used now. His eyes narrow a bit, and his smile fades a bit as he looks between the two, the amounts of alcohol already imbibed (compared to his own nearly untouched spirits), and comes to a conclusion.
So the question comes out, right up front, quiet and even-toned, "Would someone please tell me what I'm missing here?"
"I am not controlling," Jenny grumps, frowning in Duncan's direction. "Am I?" A look towards Silas, as she searched for assistance and then, poked at the roast pheasant that, Sy hadn't bothered to touch either. However, Potter said something that stuck. And Jenny, swelling with no small amount of pride, agreed. "Yes. He is. He's one of the most honest people I've had the pleasure of meeting and there's little that I wouldn't do for him."
Noble words, curtailed by the quiet question from the boy at her side. "I'm sorry, Sy. Potter is…well, he's Potter. And…this wasn't at all how I imagined going about anything." The look on her face implores as much, before she adds, in much quieter tones. "If you decide to change your mind," her stomach twisted in knots and her attention was more on Sy than Duncan in that moment, having angled to face him, even going so far as to reach, beneath the table's edge, for one of his hands. "Then I'll understand. But I really hope you don't, because I would really like to be able to make good on my promise."
Duncan leans back in his chair, looking between them as Jenny speaks and responds to his own previous comments. The question from Sy quirks Duncan's attention to him, then to Jenny as she starts to answer. Once she's done, Duncan hums, then looks at Jenny with a pleading look before looking at Sy with an understanding one. "Yes. A great big 'thank you' from me." He smiles a little lopsidedly. A glance to Jenny to see if she'd pick it up from there or he would have to finish that thought.
Silas takes a moment to look between Duncan and Jenny, and slowly realization begins to dawn… pieces snapping into place, and his whole demeanor seems to change. Confident again. In control. He knows exactly what's going on. "I'd never asked the name. I'd assume I'd find out sooner or later. This is far sooner than anticipated." The hand is taken, an unseen grasp for stability even as he fakes it believable aboveboard.
He looks back at Duncan, smiles, "Which hopefully means we're all on the same page now, which would be a good thing." And then a look at Jenny, "You're still not shaking hard enough." A reference to their prior talk.
"I am sorry," Jenny murmurs in Sy's direction, "It's unexpected of a surity. I had thought..," well it didn't matter what she'd thought and Duncan was thanking him which at least meant that nothing was about to explode. Her thumb, meanwhile, brushed lightly against the curve of Sy's knuckles.
"Feels like I am. Though honestly," she replied to Sy's statement, "I don't want to shake any harder. You're staying in town for a little bit, aren't you, Potter? I realize you've just arrived and you'd probably like to rest or something. Grab a room? I'll see you before I have to go back up to the school and I'll try and see if I can't slip out between now and then, but I'm not sure. If you're this close though, I could send Mephy out with an note or…we'll work something out."
Duncan ahs, and stands up quickly, "Oh! Right, a room. Let me go grab that and get settled before the innkeeper goes and gets themself lost in some comfortable sleep somewhere. Sylas, Jenny." He gives both of them a nod, and he leaves the bottle there, aiming to come back and collect if need be when he gets back down to the main bar area in however long it would take him to get a room and get setted in the Inn.
A room. A room? Definitely not something he wants to think about. Silas squashes that tiny little spark of jealousy as soon as he recognizes it, flat, and then watches Duncan depart. He then chuckles, "Did I come as much of a surprise to him, as he did to me?" He reaches over, taking a bit of pheasant and popping it into his mouth, despite the fact that it had cooled somewhat. It helped distract him for a moment. "I'm sorry I didn't catch on sooner. I should have. It should have been obvious to me."
"Probably," Jenny admits. "I'm still somewhat surprised myself. I have to say, this has never happened before. I had not expected it to happen…well, honestly I figured the holidays would have started long before this ever came about." Mercy and now she's looking at the bottle like something she wants to try and find the bottom of. "I'll talk to you in a bit, Potter!" Jenny calls after the departing beater, before very slowly exhaling and then, reaching for her glass.
"It's alright, Sy. I'm the one who should apologize and frankly, for some reason, I feel like I could repeat that 'I'm sorry' for weeks and it wouldn't begin to touch things. He's not that bad, really. And I'm not sure what was so obvious. We're generally remarkably careful in public. And the room is so we can talk, without people over hearing or word getting back to my mother." She still hadn't let go of his hand.
Silas sees her look at the bottle, and actively reaches out, pushing it a bit further away from them. His hand shifts under hers, actually moving as if to interlace his fingers with hers, should she let him. "I'm sure he's not. And he's not some fifty-year old letcher, and so that makes it easier. Hell… in a few more years no one would even blink at the idea." His voice stays soft, specifically meant to prevent overhearing. "I promised I wouldn't judge. I was just lost. I was trying to preserve our… show, and you weren't. I should have caught that immediately."
He laughs lightly, and looks at the bottle, "Can I say something… something frank. That may offend, but you know it comes from the heart of someone who cares about you, for you, and wants to be truly honest with you? The one you asked to be your voice of reason?"
Her fingers lace through his without issue, offering a squeeze as a result. His presence is something that she's become used too, a welcome black of reason and assurance that made the world easier to bare and Hogwarts especially. A place where she actually felt she fit. Acceptance. It's a precious priceless thing to a teenager or really, anyone. "No. No one except my mother. I don't imagine it would offer any kindness towards his career, either." Though that was more now than later. "I'm sorry for putting you in the situation." Often easier to deal with in theory, rather than practice.
"But of course, Sy." She's not following his logic, nor connecting the flickering gaze towards the bottle to reach any sort of proper conclusion. The panic in her eyes stems from the very real fear that her friend is apt to disappear and she couldn't blame him, if he chose too, not at all. Coupled with the nagging worry that she's not going to be able to keep her promise now, either. "You can say anything to me. I can take it." Maybe he could still get a refund on that gift..
"She'll get used to it," Silas offers, trying his best to sound as if he truly believes it. Considering his own parentage, he may be inferring a bit from what others seem to know, "Ultimately, it's your hand… not hers. And if she loves you, she'll understand it. Even if it takes her a while." He them leans his own head over, against hers, relishing the closeness, "Neither of us could have expected this to happen so suddenly. That it happened today just seems a bit of a cruel twist of fate."
He then points to the bottle at the far end of the table, "The truth? That is a weakness for you. I know games. I know how to look for that sort of thing… the sort of failing that can be used to take someone down a peg, or make them do it to themselves. The use of truth to turn someone to your own needs, like a tool… and that bottle right there is where I would do so with you, were I of a mind."
He takes a long breath, and sighs. "It can be fun… but it is easily abused. It dulls the mind while it comforts, it warms the blood while it steals reason. Lives, futures, families… all have been ruined by something that could be 'just a little fun'. But count the cups on the bar before I got here. The whiskey you bought after. How much of your wine now is gone compared to what's in my cup. Look through the eyes of someone like, say, Medusa… and tell me what you see."
Her hand? "What?" While the look is one that's wide eyed and rather like a rabbit being stared down by a wolf. "Und…," no. Don't touch it. Leave it alone. Over there. At the other end of the table. Like the bottle that was out of reach. And her glass wasn't full. It wasn't empty, but it wasn't full, either. She could fix that. Wanted too, while he spoke about a cruel twist of fate.
And then….there's a stillness that settles over Genevieve. The kind of stillness that comes from one who's listening, all too well and can hear the truth and reason, whether or not they actually want too. That her free hand had been reaching for the glass and suddenly stopped was sign enough. To be fair, he was right. Some of the stupidest things she'd ever done, had been when she'd been drinking. Started because she'd been drinking. It warmed the blood alright.
"There was one," as for cups on the bar. "And then I'd ordered the whiskey," but she hadn't drank it. Of the scotch in the cup… Jenny's lips were twitching, or well, twitching is a strong word, but so is trembling which is closer to what they were doing but it was the kind of trembling that came from someone who's mind was very against the act of trembling and kept trying to will it to stop and her eyes, again, looked remarkably…moist. "A joke. Who drinks too much, who needs a tutor before she fails, who minds everyone else's business because she has nothing. A scavanger bird, who exists on the edges and simply tries to paint the world in pretty colors." And her voice had just kept right on getting softer, until eventually her hand snatched from his and she angled to push up to her feet; tossing coins at the table to cover the meal as she did.
"I need to go." Less a question and more a retreat that she struggled to make without first breaking into a run.
"Please, don't," is all he can say, "at least… not without hearing this." He doesn't try to take the hand back, or stand to stop her, although his smile is gone. He sits up straight, "Afterward, take as much time away from me as you need… but hold on to this one last statement."
He grabs her cup of wine, not his, and takes the remainder down with a single shot… and doesn't even wince. "I don't judge you," he offers, setting the cup down, "and I understand. But I know how others could twist you, and I swear I will never let that happen to you. Now you've looked at yourself through her eyes… look at yourself through mine. Eyes that just see you, and only want to see the best for you."
He then looks straight at her, again not standing in he way, "I will always be truthful to you. I would rather hurt you with this truth now, so that you can come back from it, than let one of them wound you to the point you can't heal. I hope you will see that."
Well that does it. It's rather a lot harder now, to hide the way she pulls the curve of her wrist in against the shape of her cheek, quite pointedly and rather hard there beneath her eyes. "Can we leave," Jenny's voice is a fine thread of sound, one that might not register across the distance, but is there, never-the-less. "Please." It's a tone that implores, "Please. I don't want to be here right now, or in here. I don't want anyone to..," but that was a trick to finish too, because her throat chose that moment to choke up and eventually her shoulders slumped in defeat and she turned to draw her scarf down, her jacket, her cap from the rack by the door and just, "I'll be outside."
"Oh Silas, what a fool you are," the boy chides himself. He stands almost as quickly as she leaves, reaching over to grab the forgotten box, gloves and bags grabbed quickly as he follows after her. Silent, for now, lest he make a greater fool out of either of them.
— At the Quidditch Stands —
Outside, it's hardly late in the day, early afternoon, with the skies graying overhead and Jenny, for all the world, has her cap pulled down as low as it can possibly go, with the collar of her jacket flipped up and her hair falling down like some great veil to frame all but the very front of her face. It could have been some introvert fashion statement, if it weren't entirely obvious that she was hiding.
She walks in silence too, though there's the occasional sniffle and hitch in her breathing that suggests, given her state that having been faced with a mirror and the cold harsh waters of the truth, the picture is not at all flattering. So her steps, while they may seem aimless, wind without error towards the absolute one thing in the world that she can understand and a place that, regardless of wayward bludgers and teams joshing for position, she feels safe. It should come as little surprise then, when the Quidditch stands start looming up in the distance.
Silas knows when he's stepped in it. He knows his words were true, and needed, but this silent walk has shown him something he wasn't ready for: words that can hurt can do so far more deeply than even he could imagine.
So, he's stayed behind her the entire way. Silent. Not attempting to stop her. Not even speaking anymore… the very fact that she said 'we' indicated that she wasn't dismissing him, not yet.
However, he mentally began to prepare himself for her to shake the tree a bit more vigorously now.
"I would have been your pawn, you know." There's an eventual give, the return of her voice, for all that like her, it's not yet entirely on solid ground. "When you said you could have used me for a tool. You don't…you don't need some help from a drink to have it. But even if that'd been something you chose, I wouldn't have held it against you. I just…," needed to find the words, perhaps.
"I know how they see me. How it looks. I have to think of these things anyway, to navigate the conversations. To land the first blows. If you beat them to it, it takes away part of the punch. Maybe Macmillan was right, but I don't feel like a victim. I don't want attention. I just, I'd rather be invisible than sniped at or about and now we can add crying in a pub on top of everything else. I cried the day he shot me into the dirt, you know. My feelings were childish, I didn't want to cry anymore after that. Actually, it wasn't long after I started drinking. Got louder. Left the books. I decided I would be happy. Or at least something else. Anything else, just as long as it was different from what I was."
Now's the point where Silas takes a big chance. He's wounded her, and rightly so, and she's just as likely to pull away from him. Slowly, he steps up behind Genevieve, slides his arms around her in a hug from behind that, if she doesn't resist it, will enfold her with one hand at her shoulder, across her chest, and the other at her waist. "If I wanted a pawn, I could have them…" is the words he whispers next in her ear. "We're both traveling in a direction that will have us both beholden to each other, and I would much have that than someone I could twist and turn in any direction. I thought you were fleeing me there, for just a moment, and the thought just about tore out what little heart I have to give someone."
He takes a big breath, "I don't have answers for you… I wish I did. I don't know what heartache you've had… or even known the pain that drove you to it. But you had to face all that alone. You don't have to anymore. You don't have to deny yourself the right to BE yourself, just because you're afraid others will mock you for it. Damn them all. Bugger them." Big words, coming from him.
Genevieve goes still at the first brush of his hands. Very still, but she doesn't retreat. Not even as his arms enfold her. It's rather thorough, the way he's drawn her in and she lets him; a hint of tension that bleeds away into the soft compliance as she melts in against his chest and let's her eyes fall closed as his voice tickles against her ear. It's true and she knows it. "I think I'm going to end up owing you far more than you could ever owe me. When he walked in..when you realized..I thought that was it and how could I let go?"
How indeed. There is probably something wrong with the way she's managed this attachment. This association that he alone of everything they're surrounded with in school is safe but, "And you'll protect me when they do? I thought I was supposed to be your sword." And she can, strangely. When it's his strength she has to draw on. "Will you help me? But even if you do, how can I repay you? I'm afraid to see me through your eyes, Sy. More than anyone else's. What happens when I disappoint you?"
"You shouldn't be," is how Silas responds to the question of seeing her through his eyes. "You'd see how proud I am of you. How shocked I am that you've let me in so completely. How much strength I know you have in you… to be better then the rest of them, to be stronger than the rest of them, to be who and what you were meant to be, if only you just let yourself." He grins as he presses his cheek against hers from behind, "Actually, perhaps you shouldn't. You just might die of sheer narcissistic bliss as a result of the revelation."
He sighs, not sadly, but with reaction to all of it, and holds her even closer to him for a moment, "As to the rest… you're going to disappoint me. It'll happen. It has to happen… logically speaking. And I'll disappoint you. And we'll glower and hiss at each other, and then pick the pieces back up and all will be well again. If that weren't true, you would have just run away from me tonight… not beg me to leave with you."
At that, he actually nuzzles behind her ear for a moment, breathing there before speaking again, "We're clearly in the thick of it now. We're vulnerable to each other. I know how much you hate that… but… I'm going to challenge you… until you see just how wonderful you can be. Until you're not satisfied with being anyone's pawn… but instead insist on being a queen."
"Or I might recommend that you have your head checked, so that whatever spell that has fuddled your thoughts can be removed. We'd all be safer that way, I think." Yet she returns that press of his with a nuzzle and lets her arms curl in to lay over his their at her waist; one arm curling over, while the opposite hand sought to twine her fingers through his. "Though…I may act like a bit of a narcissit in those trousers…which I did promise to model." There, a happy thought. One that was as far away from Hogsmeade as she could put her mind.
But the thoughts couldn't stay pleasant, could they? No. And she hugged in against his arm, when he drew her in as if she could somehow hide in the shadow of his arms. "You haven't disappointed me yet. And I'm going to try not to disappoint you, but…we should have some sort of agreement. And if I could figure out a way to secure it with magic I would. The kind that says, no matter what, neither of us walk away. That we always pick up the pieces. I wasn't trying to run from you tonight. I just..I wanted..privacy, I guess. But I'm glad you came with me."
No truer words could have been spoken, though she had some serious doubts about just how vunerable he was in the situation. She even shiver too, for the way he nuzzled at her ear and squirmed somewhat there against him. "I don't want to be a queen, Sy. I just..want to be me."
Silas lets her speak, not interrupting until her responses fade off into silence. Standing there, happy enough in the solace of that touch, everywhere they meet, he just soaks it in. Then, once enough time has passed, he begins, "I think that's a good promise to make. Never to let any damage break things completely, because we know in the end we can always return."
Then, after another bit of silence, he whispers, "What is truly a queen, but a woman is herself, for herself, and for no other? Be yourself. Don't let petty little people break you down, or former heartache shake you. If you loved your books, embrace them. If you love the social life, embrace it. Just be yourself. Be Genevieve. Be Jen."
"Muggles..," Jenny ventures, very careful with her words, in the wake of his agreement, not quite yet touching on his defination of a queen, but instead simply remaining close. It's safe there. Perfectly safe, as if nothing else in the world could touch her and he's warm. So very warm. "They have this..this thing, I heard about it once. Called blood brothers. It's like a promise, but it's bound in blood, where they both cut their hand and then shake on it. But to them, it's binding. I always thought it sounded like some kind of old magic, is why the memory stuck. We could do that?"
Suggested, before she finally turned her head enough so that she could look at him, even if just in profile. It brought her nose in against the curve of his cheek. "And I will work on being me, with no excuses and no apologies and a smidge less drinking. Unless you drink with me…because the holidays are coming up and honestly we can't let something like that pass. But every queen needs a king, Sy."
"Blood magic." Silas intones, "Although I dislike the thought of us as brothers. Sounds like a very messy transfiguration spell…" Okay… sure, he's going inject a little humor in now. "But yes, we could. But let's not do it on school grounds… that may… gather too much attention." So it would likely have to wait until winter break. France should be far enough.
"And you'll have your king, one way or another."
And, with a slight shift of wind, the scene does change a bit… it's still early enough in the day that students are walking about, and the sounds of a few voices coming closer are borne on the wind. "Care for a walk, m'lady?"
"Wasn't that why you bought me more trousers?" Jenny teases, unable to help the grin that teases across her lips. "I'm not so certain there's anything magical about it though. Muggles do it. But you may be right about the where, since, we're not exactly muggles." Who knew what might happen? Either way the girl snuggled back against him.
"What do you mean, one way or another. Are you plotting, Sy? Should I be worried? I'll have you know I have it on good authority that I am to be no one's pawn. Someone might get very upset about that," she teases with a grin. But the sound of voices do prompt her into awareness beyond just them.
"I would love a walk, m'lord," came the gilded reply, as she slowly and with reluctance began to withdraw from his arms. But not so far as she couldn't link arms at his side. "Or better…let's go put your things away and fly instead."