[Daily Prophet] Literature in a Hurry (Blo, Evan)

Scribbling neatly away at his editing pad, Evan allowed himself a moment to curse - metaphorically - Matthew Walker.  If the Runes professor at Hogwarts had not shied away from an interview, it would have been the perfect puzzle piece to complete Evan's investigative piece on runic magic.  As it was, he couldn't really complain, having gotten a wonderful amount of professional input from Alain during his trip to Florence, and Mr. Cuffe had been elated at Alain's approval of what Evan had collected.  It certainly helped that they had made a personal connection as well - but that's how journalism went, sometimes you could make a friend and sometimes you made an enemy.  All in all, he was quite pleased with the St. Clare piece, and he was working on the finishing touches for it to go out in the next weekend edition of the Prophet.

Working out of the office was vastly different from either working at home or traveling to his interview locations. For one thing, there were more people. At first that had been the most difficult thing, different people running around on their own schedules, and often not considering what they might be interrupting when they came to his desk, whether it was for work or just to chit-chat. Working at home he only had to worry about his sister, and half her job was to help him anyway. His ochlophobia was one of the most difficult symptoms of his condition, since no matter what job he took, he would have to deal with other people. Over time his co-workers had either adapted to him and grown more courteous, or he had adapted to them and erected a mental wall between himself and whomever was looming over his desk. Some of his co-workers he had even grown "fond of," as much as one could do so.

For another thing, he was at a desk. There was nothing wrong with a desk specifically, except that even in his comfortable office chair he felt awkward, like his back was forced straight and he had to act even more than he usually did to be professional. "Maintain the Façade," as the family had been saying for years. In the field he could let a Self-Writing Quill do the writing while he connected with the single person he was interviewing. At home he could lay on the couch or in bed and feel like he could write at a more relaxed pace. At least his desk was a separate piece, one of the three in the open-door office "shared" by himself and two other investigative reporters, though they rarely occupied the space at the same time.

Evan reached for another piece of editing paper, sensing a ink blot was about to emerge from his quill. He gently dropped the metal tip onto the parchment and sure enough, a spatter came out. A few tiny droplets splashed onto his original shorthand copy of the St. Clare interview, but none on his clean copy for Cuffe. "Good enough," he said, resuming the translation of his notes interspersed with objective detail and knowledge gleaned from encyclopedic sources, except where Alain had disagreed with them.  While he was happy doing what he loved - writing, and especially about runes - he could definitely use a break. He kept glancing up from his editing pad to see who was passing by in the hallway in front of his desk.

People were stupid, Blo decided. Something to do with genetics or how they were raised, but the majority of people were idiots. She was so tired of dealing with people who didn’t have an ounce of common sense. Blo had been summoned into her boss’s office on the whim of stupidity. There was no reason for her to be in the middle of an editor’s and a writers argument. When she’d walked into the office and the door slammed shut behind her, she’d known that there was going to be some bullshit spewing. She’d leaned against the walk, eyes flickering back and forth as they argued and she wanted to slam their foreheads together.

Why was she to know that they were sleeping together? Why was Blo, innocent sweet Blo, brought into their drama? She’d been friends with the both of them since she’d started, but that didn’t make her an open platform for their stupidity and lack of professionalism. What did she care that one of them wanted to marry and the other didn’t? It was like they both wanted to get fired. They spit a barrage of words at her like spellfire before she blew up on them. Blo stopped out of the office, and out of their section of the newspaper like the hounds of hell were upon her. It was only when she got to the food shoppe that she realized that she had deadlines to make, so after buying the biggest milkshake she could get, she stomped back to the office.

…only to be hit with a barrage of idiocy again. They’d gotten so bad, that the little white girl who just organized everything was cowering under a desk and shaking. She’d even wanted to know if she should call the aurors, but Blo believed that that was doing too much. She just swooped past, grabbed her file, darting out of the room before they could drag her back in again. Blo stalked down the hallways until she saw a familiar face, and she darted in the room.

Settling on the floor by the door, she took a sip of her strawberry milkshake, and blinked at Evan Reavley. “Cheers.” Then she leaned her head agains the wall and closed her eyes, reveling in the sudden peace and quiet.

The other obstacle to the everyday wizard's appreciation of runic magic, is an unfamiliarity with how they work. Wizarding schools have traditionally - and with good results - clung to the wand magic that has been the most popular form of casting since at least the fourth century BC. However, the methods of using a wand to cast don't translate well to other magic systems.
"[Runes and other alternative magics] are so easily misunderstood by those who do not take the time to study them. The Old Magicks are not just a case of waving a wand around to create the effect you want," St. Clare explains. "The power you get is much more powerful and older than a wand. Before one can be truly informed, [they must] take the time to study these branches. They need to get in touch with their magical core, and connect with the various powers in a way that does not require using a wand. If [they] do not take the time to do this, then they will find the results will be limited at best. However," he insists, "the benefits are worth it."

The same divinatory instinct told Evan to take a break from his writing and take his quill off of the editing pad. After doing so, he paused for a few moments, listening for whatever might startle him, but he still wasn't hearing anything other than the usual shouts and uncertainties far down the hall of the media madhouse. Then he finally heard a set of quick, light but loud steps headed his way. A familiar face dashed by the doorway, dashed back with obvious recognition of Evan, slid inside the office, and sat on the floor holding a folder and a strawberry milkshake.

Well if that isn't normal, I don't know what is, he thought as he smiled at the Entertainment correspondent. "Well, hi there, Blodeuwedd," he said drily, "won't you please come in." It was an old joke that wasn't even that funny anymore - being a polyglot, he was one of the only people at the Prophet capable of saying her whole name properly. She'd get him back, of course. They'd known each other for a while, both being on the staff, and this was certainly not the first time she had ducked out of the havoc to get her bearings.

"I can't believe you didn't grab one for me too," he pretended to scold her as he stood up and stretched. "As punishment, give me a drink." He stepped out from behind his desk, flipped the sign on the door to read "IN A MEETING," shut it, and then sat down next to her. "Rough day out there again, Blo?" he held out his hand for the milkshake. This was exactly the break he needed.

Blo didn’t even bother to open her eyes when Evan addressed her, chin tilted up towards the ceiling. She let out a low grunt at the sound of her name, her brow arched sharply. “Philipovych, keep calling me that, and some idiot is going to think that I’m Welsh, and thats my real name.” She drawled, amused. She wanted to grin at him, but she was so tired. If there was a lethargic way of sipping her milkshake, she was doing slow.

When he began to complain, she just held the milkshake out, one eye cracked open as she followed his trek over to her. When he sat beside her, her head automatically leaned on his shoulder, and she let out a low huff. Her hand was free from the milkshake and she wrapped her arms around herself, as if she was trying to get warm. It was more like she was trying to get comfortable, rubbing the chill out of her upper arms. The medicine she was currently one was making her always cold and tired, and while she could fight through the tired feeling, the chill wasn’t really going away.

Snorting low, she shook her head. “No. Just…tiring.” She began, shrugging her shoulders. “I think i might be taking a break soon. There’s a bit of drama in the Entertainment department, and dj’ing gets me less drama for my time.” Not to mention the fact that she would be able to make her own hours. Blo seemed to be always sleeping now, so if she switched fully to dj’ing while she was doing new medicine rounds, then maybe she could get the rest her healer was yelling at her to get.

Sitting up, she peered at Evan with wide, curious eyes. She examined him like she examined all of her friends, and tried to see if there was something wrong, like she could read minds or something. Seeing only a face, she arched a brow. “What cryptic thing are you working on now?” She questioned. “If it’s Arithmacy, tag me out. I hated that class.” She tucked herself against his side, closing her eyes again, rubbing her arms again. She was so damn cold.

Despite her tired drawl and her expressionless face, Evan knew Blo was okay when he heard his fake patronymic come out of her mouth. He took the milkshake as she rested her head on his shoulder, automatically making them both more comfortable. Times like these, he really liked being the gay best friend. At least he wasn't as fruity as this milkshake - Blo liked them more flavoured than he did. Oh well.

"Drama in the Entertainment department?" Evan repeated in mock astonishment. "Why, that doesn't even make any sense!" He took another swig, made a face, and rubbed the cold cup against her hand since her eyes were practically closed. He went on in a much softer tone, "I totally get wanting a break, and I won't stand in your way, but just remember you'll be leaving me here to deal with the other nutjobs without your support. You'd better come back eventually." Blo had quite a talent for DJ'ing; she'd even gotten Evan to like a bit of the modern techno crap with some of her mixes. A bit, anyway.

Blo sat up suddenly and gave him a long, wide-eyed look-over. At first he thought he'd offended her, but then he recognised this. This was her I'm-reading-you look. He kept his face a neutral mask of bland amusement, and eventually she cocked an eyebrow and asked him about his current project, cuddling back up against his side. Automatically Evan reached an arm around and started helping her rub her arms. Her skin was cold.

"Not Arithmancy," he shook his head gently so as not to hit her in the forehead with his chin. "Runes. Cuffe landed an interview with a young expert in Italy and sent me to do the face-to-face. I'm just doing up the longhand copy to give to him for the next weekend print."

Talking about it made Evan start thinking about Alain all over again. Brilliant mind, complete disdain for ignorance, trove of information, great dresser... handsome face... well-shaped body... With horror, Evan heard himself emit a sigh like a lovesick third-year Hogwarts girl. Still, if there was anyone he could tell about Alain, it was Blo.  "So, I would like your opinion on something," he began casually, an ear-to-ear grin blossoming on his face.

Blo cut her eyes at Evan, but snorted. There was always drama in her department, and it was annoying. She worked with kids in adult suits, that seemed to always be having temper tantrums. Even her boss was a complete idiot, and she was almost regretting working there. She would have quit, but she actually loved the work she did, and the people she met.  “I’m just tired.” She said again, shaking her head from side to side. “I might even take a break from working at the clubs for awhile, maybe sleep for awhile or beach hop.” Anything would do really. She yanked her hand away from the cup, sticking it between her thighs to warm it up. “I’ll kidnap you…” She murmured snuggling closer.

Humming softly, she twined herself further around Evan, trying to soak up the warmth. “Arithmancy and Runes operate almost the same.” She said, rolling her eyes. “Both are squiggles of shit i don’t much particularly care for.” She would rather be napping than actually try to decipher all of that bit, and was glad someone could do it. “You went to Italy without me?” She whined softly, sounding like a wounded puppy. “I wanted to go on vacation too…”

Brown eyes flicked open widely, and she slowly leaned her head upwards as she heard Evan sigh. What the fuck could be so mind-boggling about a job in Italy? It sounded fantastic, and if he really loved her he would have taken her with him. She studied his face again, eyelids lowered so they shielded most of her eyes from view. Her brow arched again, and she began to pet his arm in a familiar stroking pattern. “….I’d be worried, but you look like the Joker. So…Never mind, I’m still worried…” She tilted her head again.

“Does this opinion involve asking me where to bury the body of a victim? Cause I’m not here for that. And that grin makes me think you’re either talking about a major crime or a guy. Guy I can deal with…not that other shite. But come on, tell me…”

"Like your boss would have let you come to Italy with me without a damn good reason," Evan scoffed, abandoning sarcasm for complete agreement with Blo's low opinion of her department. "Honestly I don't know how you put up with him - half the time he's a clueless idiot and the other half he's a brown-nosing stick-in-the-mud. And I'm sorry for teasing you about the drama."

He wrapped his arms around Blo and took her snuggling in stride. "Why are you so cold? You're not coming down with something, are you? It's July, for Pete's sake." She may have thought she was only tired, but fatigue was a common symptom, and she did not seem well. "You know what? I'm calling girls' night tonight. Come over to my flat, Erica's visiting Adena up in Northampton all week. We'll watch movies and eat unhealthy and you can paint my toenails," he tried to be silly to cheer her up.

Instead, after Blo's comment, Evan was the one who started laughing hysterically. "It's a guy, not a crime," he assured Blo through the laughs. "Although looking like him should be a crime. He's got these piercing dark icy blue eyes and wavy sandy blond hair and this sounds really clichéd but he has muscles in all the right places," he grinned at his own dorkiness. Because of his condition, the only way to get around his maddening natural reticence was to force himself to blurt out his thoughts. He was a much better wordsmith on paper than in speech. "It's the guy I interviewed in Italy. He's actually French, and he's a total babe. And has a sexy, cocky attitude, and shares my -- our -- low opinion of ignoramuses. Aaaaand I think I really like him, but obviously I've only met him the one time."

He figured Blo would tell what he needed to do, by way of kicking him in the pants and telling him to quit being a scaredy-cat and hit Alain up again. "Basically I just don't know what to do from here, or how, or like what premise I would need to make up to go see him again. He was actually a great interviewee. Would it be weird to just go back to Italy to see him again?" He chewed on his lip thoughtfully, and added as a bribe, "I'd bring you with me this time."

If she’d honestly told Evan as bluntly as she was wont to do, ‘I’m dying, find me a heart, or be prepared to bury by corpse.’, she was sure the pretty boy would probably freak. There was no easy way to explain her condition to other people without them overreacting, so she’d just shut her mouth and bask in his warmth. “I’m…exhausted. And maybe a bit ill. I have an appointment in the evening tomorrow.

Blo wanted to laugh at Evan’s description of this mystery man. “He sounds to good to be true. I feel like his arse is flat, and you know how I feel about extended backs. It’s a shame when a man doesn’t have a firm, well formed backside.” She licked her lips seductively, popping them, to emphasize what she meant. “But I’m sure this new beau of yours has a nice one, so continue…”

“You can actually just do a return after the article is published. It’s commonplace after an interview to give the subject some of the letters in response to their feature, and follow back up. I’d wait a bit, so maybe you should take a bit. Maybe you can surprise him…? Pop up to somewhere that he’s at? With me? I’m sure that if you take me to a fancy lingerie place, I could be persuaded, yeah?”

"Mmm. Returns. I had not thought of that," Evan mused with a dreamy smile on his face. "It really is the perfect excuse. And of course I'm taking you with me, and of course we'd go shopping afterward. Or before, who knows? I know a few places. Stellini? No, La Perla. Honestly if I'm taking you to Florence then we're going to have to hit the town, hard." His mind was already racing with possibilities. Dinners out? Concerts? Boating -- no, that'd be too boring for Blo. Designer fashions, Italian cuisine, Italian men, yeah. It'd be a good time.

"Well I guess that's decided then, isn't it?" he said cheerfully. "Uh." His attention suddenly returned to the milkshake as his mind abruptly reminded him that Blo had said something about a doctor's appointment. "If you're cold, why the hell are you drinking this?" he waved the half-empty cup in front of the two of them. "I'm thinking hot chocolate and peppermint schnapps would be better." He frowned before setting the milkshake carefully back down. "Would you, uh, mind terribly if I went with you to this appointment? I'm pretty sure you're not going to actually admit everything that's wrong."

Groaning, he got back to his feet slowly and stretched, his shirt coming untucked as he arched his back and groaned. "Anyway. None of our Florence planning is likely to take place if I don't actually finish the article," he grudgingly admitted as he stuffed the bottoms of his button-up back into his trousers. "Want to see what I have so far or is it going to make your head swim?"

"Let's go to France after that. I love France." She cooed softly, nuzzling his chest. She was excited for new adventures, especially with her Evan. Her hand absently stroked his arm. It was a soothing motion, more for her than for him. Like he was her kitten. For some reason the image of him with kitten ears appeared in her head, and she smiled toothily. He'd probably hate her if she likened him to a kitten, but there was something adorable about Evan. She sighed softly, eyes closing as she tried to get comfortable. He was exuding heat, and she reveled in it. If they weren't at work, she would have crawled all the way into his lap and tried to nap. But alas, there they were, and she would suffer for it.

"I'm drinking it because it tastes good. Let me indulge." She whined softly, making grabby hands for her drink. If he was going to complain about her drink, then maybe he shouldn't be drinking it. Before she could badger him about it, he began talking about coming to her doctor's appointment, and sweat beaded at her temple. If she was being honest with herself, she definitely wouldn't admit to him or anyone who wasn't in the know about her difficulties. It was already heard enough that Nessa now knew, but to open up herself and tell Evan that if they couldn't figure out a way to fix or replace her weak heart that she'd die? It was something she didn't know if she could stand. But he was her friend, one of her best friends. It was hard enough to keep her medicine away from him, but to outright lie to him.

So she took a chance. "...I do mind, actually." She said, biting her lip. "But...I'm private, and you know this. If...you'd like to come, that's fine...just...you can't tell my mum..." She bit her bottom lip, hiding her face in his neck. It was as if she was trying to bury herself in his skin, hiding away from the world. He continued speaking, and all she did was nod. "I don't like runes, but I can keep up. Just read em slow and sexy to me..." She flirted, trying to get attention off herself and her problems.