thinking 'bout boys [perdita]

february 2003

Saturday nights at Merlin’s were always busy, but this was ridiculous. Mary elbowed her way past someone in the line, then flashed an apologetic (sort of) grin at the woman’s boyfriend – or, partner for the evening, anyway. It would be foolish to assume anyone here was in a solid relationship; couples didn’t club, they sat at home and ordered takeaways and cuddled.  Mary reached the front of the queue and flashed her Auror badge at the bouncer. “Ministry business,” she said, and she was granted access; behind her she heard a chorus of complaints at her skipping the queue and grinned to herself as she pushed through the doors into the club.

The noise hit her immediately. The dark-haired witch found a member of staff and mentioned (loudly, over the music) a reservation – it was so very handy having friends with money – and was led through the room to the booths, where Perdita was waiting. “Perdita, darling!” she cried out dramatically. The other woman stood and Mary enveloped her in a warm hug. “So sorry I’m late, something came up at work – as usual.” She pulled back and gave her friend a quick look head-to-toe and back. “Ooh, so chic. You are on a mission tonight,” she smirked. “Planning on ditching me for someone tall, dark and unavailable?” They both knew Perdita had a type.

Mary stepped back and slid into the other side of the cosy two-person booth, crossing her leg over at the knee. She was resplendent (she thought) in an emerald green velvet blazer and matching straight-legged trousers, strappy heels and only a slinky black camisole beneath her jacket – tight minidresses were not her style. A waiter came to take their order – the perks of bottle service in the VIP area – and Mary asked for a gin and tonic. As the man retreated she shot Perdy a knowing look (he was good looking, wasn’t he?).

“So,” she began, tucking a flyaway behind her ear and checking her bun was still intact, “how were your holibobs? Meet anyone dashing? I want all the juicy details.”

Valentine's Day was always a load of rubbish.

Sat in a bustling bar, Perdita was comforted by the fact that no one here was in an actual relationship. How could they be? Everyone looked too...happy. People in relationships didn't spend weekends in clubs. People in relationships definitely didn't dance like that. Intrigued and vaguely uncomfortable, Perdita watched two people shimmy under the lights and she blinked. Mary was a little late but Perdy had already downed two vodkas, so she was feeling fine. She also didn't realise someone was calling her name.

"Hiya!" She replied, getting up when Mary arrived, catching her heel in the strap of her bag and collapsing into her friend with some force as she reached out for a hug. "You work too much," Perdita complained as her pretty face wrinkled in dismay. "You look beautiful," she added, truthfully, her fingers stroking the velvet material of Mary's jacket. Emerald looked so good on her.

"Oh thanks," she smiled, smoothing her hands over her skirt before she laughed. "When am I not on the prowl?" She joked with a roll of her eyes, still holding hands with her friend as she sat down. Mary's flyaway comment struck a nerve and Perdy wasn't sure she caught it in time. Her smile slipped just a fraction before she laughed and shook her head, her bob swishing. "You're my main girl, you know that."

As someone arrived, she smiled. "The same, please," Perdita ordered her drinks, ignoring the warning about mixing drinks. "It was really fun," she replied, already missing her winter tan. "You should really come to the villa, Mary," she pouted. "Can you not take some time off? I'm sure the Ministry won't collapse if you weren't there." It probably would.

"Oh I love Italians," Perdita replied wistfully with a dreamy sigh, smiling as the drinks appeared before sipping at hers. "My details are juiceless, I'm afraid," she shrugged. "I'm taller than everyone in that country," she admitted with wide eyes. "Do you know any single Aurors?" She asked Mary. "An upstanding member of wizarding society? That would take me out to dinner and not be ashamed? Maybe whisper filthy things in her ear?"

Mary's throwaway tall, dark and unavailable comment clanged around her head. Her thoughts strayed to Charlie because he was all of the above. He was physically available but emotionally checked out. It hit too close to home. Perdita hadn't really "dated" anyone in a while and she wasn't sure she wanted to - Charlie or otherwise - but having the option there was nice. Hanging out with Charlie Baker was the definition of insanity. It was her doing the same thing over and over again and expecting him to change. Madness. But she didn't want Mary to know and besides, no one would ever find out.

Drinking her gin, she sighed. "It's all a mess and I need you to take care of me."

“I work a perfectly normal amount,” she countered. The brunette smiled and pretended to fuss over her hair. “Oh, I know, thank you for noticing.” She always felt like the less attractive friend beside Perdita – beside Caitlin, beside Angelina, anyone really – but had learnt faux-confidence worked just as well as the real thing. “Never,” Mary answered honestly – but they were both as bad as one another. Anyone would think they were already over thirty, desperate to find a man to settle down with before their biological clocks kicked in.

The Auror didn’t miss her friend’s slipping smile. Oops, hit a nerve. “Well, I’m giving you fair warning if I meet a hottie tonight I’m ditching you,” she joked – sort of, it was entirely possible really – in an attempt to distract. Perdy ordered and Mary smiled. “Good, you looked like you needed a break – and I mean that as inoffensively as possible.” She scooted back further into her side of the booth and straightened her jacket out. “Oh, maybe soon.” Merlin knew she was stacking up her annual leave, but she felt like now was hardly the time to be swanning off to Italy – especially given they’d sided with Sweden. She knew she shouldn’t begrudge Perdita for using her second home (third? Fourth? Who even knew with the Blooms), but it wasn’t something Mary could have comfortably done in the current political climate. “You know it absolutely would, I’m the backbone of that place.”

The waiter returned with their drinks and Mary smirked at him before he left them. She sighed. “Well you’re probably faring better than me.” She laughed derisively at Perdita’s request. “Oh, Perdita, you know Aurors are all married to their work if not to a living breathing human.” Herself included. She took a sip of her gin; she hadn’t missed the undertone of Perdita’s comment. The woman across from her really needed to start dating men who weren’t already otherwise involved. “If I knew any upstanding members of wizarding society who would take you to dinner and make your toes curl I’d be dating him myself,” she said with a grin.

A sleek eyebrow arched inquisitively. “Take care of you or take care of you?” There was building her friend back up and getting her drunk to forget whatever mistakes she’d made, and then there was shoving her at the nearest available man to make new ones. “Have you seen him lately?” Mary asked, sipping from her gin innocently. They both knew who she was talking about, even if Perdy wouldn’t want to admit it. Mary had seen the tabloids lately, had heard Caitlin complaining about Charlie Baker and his inability to keep it in his marriage bed. Mary only hoped that Perdita wasn’t involved – there had been sleeping with him when he had a girlfriend (uncool) and then there was sleeping with him while he was married (seriously uncool).

"Mmhm," Perdita agreed, nodding eagerly. "Because working eighty hours per week is totally the norm," she commented with a roll of her eyes. She was all for her friend being a career girl but not if it meant running herself into the ground. She smiled, genuinely this time. Mary Hunt really was a wonder of nature. Beautiful and smart and eclectic and interesting and fun. It stressed her out that she was unable - or unwilling - to see that.

In spite of herself, Perdy laughed. "You have my permission," she conceded gracefully as she waved her hand nonchalantly. She hadn't come out her to suck the fun out of anyone's night and the bar was bouncing. It was packed to the rafters with men and she wouldn't ask if they were single. Perdita needed a distraction and quickly. They were in London, the casual hook up capital of the UK and if she couldn't manage to take anyone home, she enrolled in a nunnery on Monday morning.

She laughed again. "Ouch," she managed to form, taking Mary's comment to heart in a fragile manner. Then she scowled. "Oh come on Mary," Perdita whined, her full lips downwards in a pout. "As much as I love your suits," she paused, gesturing to her emerald fantasy. "I'd love you in a bikini. Just come for the weekend," she pressed her friend. "I've got five spare bedrooms. You can have the one with the balcony," she added, eagerly. Perdita just dropped the square footage so casually, it sounded like a normal conversation.

Sipping at her gin, she wrinkled her nose in distaste. "You guys are all so serious," she mumbled, feeling a hint of petulance creep in around the edges. "A good point, well made," she lamented but managed to offer Mary a wry smile. "I don't want much," she sighed as she slumped back on her seat. "Regular sex and maybe the ocassional bunch of flowers. Is that too much to ask?" She didn't mention that she could probably do those both by herself but she was in the middle of self-wallowing.

"Both?" Perdy asked with a bright smile. "Who? Oh." She frowned, switching emotions like she was shuffling through a pack of playing cards. So far, Perdia had managed to keep Charlie's name out of her mouth. She'd almost slipped but she hadn't seen head nor hide of him in months - until last week. "I don't know who you mean," she answered vaguely, angrily stabbing at her slice of lime in her drink with her straw and growing irrationally angry when she was unable to spear it.

"But no," she cleared her throat and surveyed the bustling crowd as she chewed anxiously on her lip. "I haven't. And nor do I want to. Not since —" wincing, she stopped herself short. Not since that night. The Prophet hadn't come out yet and Perdita had no say over what the paper chose to print. All she could do was prepare for the worst and hope for the best. "We're not doing," she shot Mary a look. "You know," she struggled for her words. "It." If only that were true.

Mary ignored the eighty-hour week comment. Perdita wasn’t far off, but the less Mary could draw attention to her odd hours, the better – being an Auror was a good cover, at least, for the other half of her job. The main issue of course was that essentially doing two jobs left her very little time to actually live her life – she didn’t know how she would actually keep a boyfriend, if she were to ever get one. Wistful sigh.

“I should hope so,” she replied coolly, taking the opportunity to scan the club for potential targets – or what she could see of it from here, anyway. It was dark and busy, so it wasn’t likely that she’d find anyone to go home with from her perch with Perdy – then again, she didn’t know if she really did want to go home with anyone at all; she was exhausted and could do with a good sleep, but needs must.

Mary grinned wickedly, shrugging playfully. The brunette followed Perdy’s gaze down over her outfit and smiled (she did agree that this was a particularly good suit). “Merlin, I don’t even remember the last time I was in a bikini,” she sighed. Too long, obviously, if she couldn’t remember it. The Auror perked up, playing her part; “Oh, a balcony. Do you have a gardener? I can fulfil my Romeo and Juliet fantasy,” she grinned and sipped at her gin.

“No one has ever accused me of being serious,” the tall witch replied with another grin. Was it too much to ask? Mary shrugged, a little more dejectedly; it seemed that perhaps it was. “We obviously just have terrible taste in men,” she said instead. Speaking of: Who? Mary arched a well-defined, very judging eyebrow at Perdita. Really. Eyebrow still raised, Mary continued to stare – borderline glare – at her friend. Perdy was truly an awful liar (not that Mary should be proud to be a good one, she supposed). Both brows rose in surprise. “Not since…?” she asked, not willing to let that slip go; she hoped Perdita was steering well clear of that wanker, but it didn't sound likely.

They weren’t doing it. “Are you twelve?” She rolled her eyes exasperatedly. Then sighed in relief. “Well, thank goodness you’re not involved in— all of that.” She was assuming that Perdita would be less of a child about it all if she was shagging Charlie Baker. “I know you have a soft spot for him but you know he’s bad news – quite literally, at the moment – and I just don’t want you getting dragged into that.” She had another quick sip from her glass before continuing; “I don’t even read the Prophet and I know his life is falling apart.” That poor girl – she couldn't bear for Perdy to be treated the same way. “You deserve better,” she added.

"I do have a gardener," Perdita replied, missing the sarcasm as she drank before she shrugged. "He's called Peter and he's a very sweet sixty five year old man, so if you want to dive right into that, then be my guest," the tall brunette said with a smile. At the mention of Shakespeare, she laughed. "Nah," she said with a shake of her head. "You're better off being Rosaline. You'll survive the play. And Christ," she pulled a face. "Get in a bikini and get some colour on yourself."

A terrible taste in men, Mary had said. Rather than saying anything, Perdita simply raised her glass in a salute and drank because Heaven knows she did. Though, she tended to seek out the bad type and poor Mary often found out too late that her beaus were wrong 'uns.

In a very uncharacteristic action, a blush suffused her cheeks. It started at her chest and worked slowly up her neck and she felt the roots of her hair on fire. She hoped the darkness and the poor lighting would help disguise it. "Since I busted him for drugs," Perdita answered Mary's question cheerfully. Most scorned lovers usually just chucked their partner's clothes onto the front yard but not Perdy - she tried to get them arrested.

"I'm thirteen, actually," the secretary replied to Mary tartly, scowling as she drank. "No, of course I'm not involved," she was quick to say because she wasn't and she hadn't been "involved" with him in months. All Charlie Baker did was give her a complex and make her sad. A soft spot? "No, I don't --" she blabbered with wide eyes at being exposed so blatantly in a bar that Perdita was left opening and closing her mouth in shock, like a bewildered goldfish.

As always, Mary was bang on the money. She did have a soft spot for Charlie - she used to have a soft spot for Charlie - it was past tense now. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she pulled at an imaginary thread on her dress. Still drinking her gin, she nodded. His life really was falling apart but the most frustrating thing was that he seemed hell bent on allowing it to happen. It didn't need to be that way. He was actually a very intelligent, charming, funny man. He was just drowning in his reputation.

She offered Mary a wan smile. Perdita didn't have the heart to tell her that she thought Charlie Baker was about the best she was going to get. She didn't read the Prophet, either. Most of Banshee related bullshit was heard via gossip in the break room at work. "Don't worry. I've definitely not got any plans to see him again." For once, that was true. Since the drug ordeal, she hadn't heard from him, not that she was waiting on it.

London was a huge place and they moved in very different circles. Crossing paths just didn't happen to them; there was nothing accidental about it. In fact, him spending time in a Ministry cell had effectively hammered the last nail in the coffin for whatever that was. "You're right, though," she eventually said. "I don't want the last man I sleep with to be Charlie Baker. How tragic," she whispered with wide eyes as the panic set in. He was so far up his own arse, he'd think it was on purpose. "If I mention him again, I hereby give you permission to punch me in the tits."

"He's cute," Perdita said out of the blue, nodding to a man at the bar. Tall, handsome, blonde, very Nordic. She bet his eyes were blue. He was laughing easily and Perdita chewed on her lower lip softly. Just as she was about to leave her seat and introduce herself, the man turned round and promptly kissed his boyfriend, leaving Perdita crestfallen. "Oh, Jesus Christ," she groaned, pitched forward and smacked her forehead on the table with a dull thunk!

Mary grinned mischievously. “Peter, he sounds absolutely ravishing.” She sipped at her gin and rolled her eyes again. “I will, I will, goodness. I’ll book a holiday soon.” The more Perdita pushed it, the more Mary thought it actually didn’t sound like a bad idea -- the only problem was she’d really rather be going abroad with someone. Maybe it would do her good to have a holiday fling, blow out the cobwebs.

The Auror internally facepalmed. “Oh, Perdy, you can’t mix business and pleasure!” Do as I say, not as I do -- but Mary at least had the good sense to only try it on with people on the same side of the law. “Wait, drugs?” she asked sharply, suddenly taken aback. “What the bloody hell is he doing? Why are you in the field?” So many questions, so little gin. It shouldn’t be a surprise that a rockstar did drugs but it always was a bit of a jolt to find out people did these things -- idly, she wondered if Sam was into that sort of thing too. With Liam there was no need to wonder.

Thirteen indeed. “You best not be, young lady.” She was acting superior but a part of her felt it in this moment. She knew they both had godawful taste in men but at least she didn’t punish herself by intentionally going after men she knew were involved or otherwise bad news (Charlie Baker was, by all accounts, both). Perdita was a glutton for punishment. No, I don’t -- Mary’s glare intensified. Perdita seemed to falter. Thank heavens. “Well, good. He doesn’t deserve the time of day from someone like you.”

Mary went to drink again and almost choked on her gin. “I should hope not!” she all but cried. “I will literally thrust you at the first man to grind on you if it prevents that from being your fate, goodness.” It wasn't healthy at all. Mary did allow herself a grin at Perdita's offer, despite herself. “I’ll use my right, too,” she threatened, waving her many-ringed fingers at Perdita and sipping a little more gin.

She turned to look in the direction her companion had indicated. Her dark eyes fell on the specimen in question and she was immediately shunted sideways, thinking of someone else. “Oh, yes,” she replied distantly, turning her back to him and having a large gulp of her drink to banish the thought. When she lowered her chin and opened her eyes again Perdita was head down on the table. “What?” she asked, spinning around before bursting into a fit of laughter. “Oh, thank god,” she crowed, “your gaydar is as hopeless as mine.”

Mary waved at the waiter and held up two fingers to order them each a refill -- nevermind they hadn’t finished their current drinks yet. “I almost forgot to tell you,” she started, dabbing under her eyes with her fingertips daintily to wipe the tears away, still chuckling. “One of the men in the Office, good looking fellow -- obviously --” she pressed her hand to her chest and rolled her eyes playfully, as though she would accept nothing less (she wouldn’t), “I may have attempted to flirt with him, turns out...” she trailed off, letting Perdita fill in the blank. "Merlin, it was absolutely mortifying."

Visibly, Perdita winced. "I know, I know," she muttered, tangling a hand in her hair as a toxic mix of panic, guilt and shame swirled in the pit of her stomach. Charlie Baker was bad news but Mary didn't understand that that was the point. Everyone wanted to be the one to tame him but Christ, even a wedding ring couldn't accomplish that feat.

"Drugs," she confirmed as she downed a good size portion of her drink in response. "No idea," she stated. "I'm definitely not in the field," she told her friend in no uncertain terms. "It was a one off and I hated it." She frowned, guilt still niggling at her edges. "It wasn't my idea. I was supposed to go to the club because drugs were there. I was only supposed to try and buy some and then give the Aurors the nod, stand back and let them arrest whoever had them but then he had to walk in." Her fingers tightened around her glass, so hard that her knuckles turned white.

"It was horrible," she blinked, looking up at Mary for some sort of solace. "He was strung out and wild. His hands were everywhere. He's a dick when he's sober but tenfold when he's had something." She swallowed quickly as she relived it. She didn't tell Mary that they'd kissed and he'd unzipped her dress but she did want the Auror to know that she'd managed to resist him...sort of. Eventually. Stupid feelings and their stupid responses. "Do you ever have an itch you can't scratch?" She asked Mary before realising that all of her exes were probably very nice.

Mary was very sweet and did what a best friend should but she simply grunted in response. Perdita didn't really have the heart to tell her that people like her didn't date nice boys. The brunette didn't want her friend to be jaded. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Mary that all of her and Charlie's previous dealings did not take place during daytime hours but she managed to refrain. She shrugged, drinking again. "No big deal," she replied gently, getting used to the idea of dying alone.

"Christ, you sound like my mother," Perdita grumbled, frowning quickly. It didn't matter how many times she insisted to Mary that things were done, there would always be a small part of her that doubted it. If the tables were turned, she would feel exactly the same. "I like my hair being pulled but I'm not a masochist," she added darkly. It had taken months to get over the fallout, she wasn't going to do it again. There was no point. She knew exactly where she stood and she wasn't even the top ten on the list. She eyed Mary's rings as they glinted in the light. "Just do it," she said morosely.

Everything was gin-soaked and terrible as she rested her forehead on the table, only looking up when Mary spoke again. She flicked her head back, a beer mat stuck comically to her forehead and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Let's just get married," Perdita announced as she removed the beer mat. "I'll treat you right," she joked, smiling sleepily at the barman before her eyes widened.

"Hold the bus!" She screeched, slamming her hands down on the table in excitement. "Who, what, where, how?" Perdita fired the questions rapidly at her friend. Her joy came crashing down. "Oh baby," she said softly, her eyes full of sadness as she frowned, leaning towards the Auror to comfort her. "Is he gay, too? Was he married? Did you do your Donald Duck impression again? I mean, don't get me wrong, I love it," she honestly, hand on her heart. "It's not very sexy, though. What happened? Shall I send a howler? I'll send a howler," she nodded.

Mary was still staring at Perdita, her frown deepening as she listened to the other woman elaborate on the last time she’d seen that pillock and the series of events that had led to it. Her expression quickly shifted from disappointment to concern. “Did he do something to you?” Mary asked as she sat forward in her seat, eyes wild. She had heard far too many snippets about what Perdy got up to in her private time, but this sounded uninvited and unwarranted and if he’d been high... “Perdy, did he hurt you? It doesn’t matter if he’s famous, you know, if he did,” she offered at a lower volume, not wanting to be overheard (which would have been impressive, really, with the music and the chatter around them, but it was ingrained in her to be wary by this point).

“I’m trying to,” Mary glared softly. Woe betide them that she was the one trying to be responsible, but one of them had to do it and Perdita was evidently not in a position to. Mary wrinkled her nose. “Too much information, darling.” She picked up her gin and knocked back a large swallow, as if that might clear her mind. She met Perdy’s eye and softened -- she was unused to her friend being so defeatist, if it wasn’t so hard to watch she’d be more repulsed by the notion but as it was… "Last strike," Mary warned her, and half-meant it.

The Auror grimaced and moved ready to reach and remove the beer mat from Perdita’s forehead, but the other woman beat her to it. Mary laughed at her proposal. “My mother’s progressive, but not that progressive,” she smirked. “But if we’re both alone at eighty we can check into the same nursing home. One with pool boys.” Merlin, she hoped she wasn't still alone at thirty, let alone eighty. “You realise you’re only, what, twenty-two?” That was close enough if she wasn’t on the money. “Plenty more time to find Mr. Right, just worry about Mr. Right Now in the meantime.” Absolutely not what Mary was trying to do, but nobody said she had to obey her own wisdom.

“Oh, don’t,” Mary winced, a little embarrassed but willing to take one for the team if it got Perdita's mind off of Charlie Baker. “He’s gay yes--” she started with Perdy still talking over her, then stopped sharply, looking affronted by the insinuation that she would meddle with a married man (knowingly). Then she simply looked confused. “Donald Who?” she asked. “No, no howlers required! I just made an arse of myself, nothing new there,” she laughed airily and sipped from her gin again. “He was very lovely about it, I think we’re friends now,” she said, waving down a passing waiter and pointing at their glasses for refills.

"What?" Perdita asked, her head snapping up sharply and her big blue eyes wide in alarm. "No!" She exclaimed in panic as Mary got the wrong end of the stick. "No," she repeated again, reaching out and taking hold of her friend's hand and giving it a firm and reassuring squeeze. "I think his hands went to my arse but I tend to usually like that sort of thing," she added in a frail joke. Did he hurt her? Emotionally, yes. Physically, no.  "Not unless I ask him to." She added with a smile to say she was joking but Mary really didn't want to know about her bedroom antics.

She wilted under Mary's gaze and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she nursed her gin, wondering why this sort of thing always happened to her. Perdita blamed the universe but in actual fact, it was just a domino effect of her bad decisions. "Sorry," she said softly in the face of her friend's distaste. Being famous seemed to be a get-out-of-jail-free card and Heaven knew how many times Charlie had used it. "I think we're one hundred percent done now," she replied when Mary scowled and Perdita made the motion of locking her lips and tossing the key over her shoulder; subject closed.

She gave a short snort of laughter and saluted the other woman with her glass. "Looking forward to it." With her elbow on the table and a chin resting in an upturned palm, Perdita watched Mary with doleful eyes and forced  herself to sketch a smile. "You're really overestimating my ability to get laid," the secretary said candidly but not unkindly. "London is a shark tank. I need to go back home," she sighed heavily. "At least the boys there have manners." And she was craving a proper Sunday roast.

Perdita was content to tread water in her misery but gin always made her thoughtful and melancholy. Grandma Bloom had always told her that the world looked ugly through the bottom of a glass, but that never stopped her.

"We're pretty shit, aren't we?" Perdy mused, feeling buoyed by their shared disaster as her mind wandered but she was halted. "Donald Duck," she echoed. "The duck with the blue hat and no trousers? Sounds a bit like -- " here, she paused and promptly blew a raspberry, giving up on the impression before even starting it as she waved a hand through the air. She caught Mary's pointed look about married men and she shrugged. "We've all been there," she admitted. If the ring wasn't there, how was she supposed to know?

More gin came and Perdita studied Mary closely. "Babe," she added gently. "You have enough friends." Her tone was light and playful but there was an edge to it. Mary, the sweet little pudding, was trying to make her feel better but it wasn't working. Perdy wasn't usually a jealous person but the other brunette had her shit together. A good job, a great family, a bustling social life and here she was, drinking gin and worrying over a boy who wasn't worrying about her.

Falling silent, she chewed the inside of her lip, biting and releasing. She looked at Mary sharply. "Is there something wrong with me?" She asked, all playfulness stripped away. Men seemed keen to hang out but not consistently. Perdita found herself not really wanting to hear her answer. "Actually, no," she held an index finger up and shook her head. "I don't want any bad juju." Heaving a sigh, she swung her shoulders back. "I want to dance so hard, you're giving me a piggyback home. Let's go."

“Oh, thank goodness,” Mary sighed with relief, then winced, her nose wrinkling (again) in distaste at the oversharing -- it wasn’t so much the information itself as it was whom Perdita was asking to-- whatever. The other witch said they were done now (as if they hadn’t been before, or the time before that) and Mary regarded her younger friend with a bit of suspicion. “I hope so,” she said. “The longer you waste time on him you’re just… unavailable for better options.” That was firm but fair, wasn’t it?

This was getting silly now. They were out for a good night, not to mope and feel sorry for themselves. Mary took on the role of the older and wiser friend; “Perdita, darling, you’re in your early twenties, you’re gorgeous, who wouldn’t want to sleep with you?” She nudged her elbow. “If I were a man,” she started with a sly grin, giving her friend a cheeky once-over in an attempt to instil a bit of self-confidence in the woman.

“Speak for yourself,” she scoffed, only a little bit offended now.

Their new drinks arrived and Mary handed their empty glasses back. “One more won’t hurt,” she said, mostly talking about friends, maybe a little bit about the new drink she was pushing into Perdita’s hand. “I would’ve asked him if he has any brothers, but then I found out I knew his sister in school and I really dodged a jinx there.” Her eyes went wide as she looked down at her drink -- she didn’t want to end up related to Quinn Regan.

Was there something wrong with her? Only the way she was getting herself all depressed over a man who had a woman waiting in every city he toured, Perdita one of them. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she started. “This is pathetic,” she waved her hand at Perdita and got to her feet, “come on, let’s go boo-gie.”


END