sabotage [cordy + edith]

mid july 2003

Noah checked his reflection in the pub window before going in and regretted it the moment he had; he’d made an effort, trying to dress more English (sort of) with Harri’s advice: plain dark t-shirt, chinos, sneakers -- no eye-bleedingly bright colours or pizza-print sweatpants -- and he didn’t feel completely not like himself, but the out-there clothes distracted from how he actually looked, which (in his opinion) wasn’t great.

He pushed into the pub and followed the chalkboard sign that directed him to the ‘quiz’ side rather than the restaurant, and felt the metaphorical record scratch as he entered, plenty of sets of eyes on him and his tattoos. He scanned the room quickly and found Cordy, sat with another girl near the back. Slouching (both to make himself less of an eyesore and to avoid hitting his head on the low beams) he made his way over to them and smiled, nervously. “Hey,” he greeted them, though was mostly looking at Cordy; he cleared his throat, his voice having come out a little squeakier than anticipated.

He looked between them, then glanced down at their drinks -- almost empty -- and twisted around to look for a clock. “Am I late? I thought you said seven-thirty?” His accent, if it hadn’t been obvious before, was obvious now. Loud and American, even when he was trying to be quiet. Noah flicked his eyes up again, then clicked that maybe Cordy had invited him to this quiz as like a pre-date date to make sure he wasn’t a serial killer -- made sense. Smart, really. Was less obvious than inviting someone else to dinner, wasn’t it? “I’m Noah,” he said, holding his hand out to shake. Polite.

“Uhh, do you--” The other girl finished her drink on cue. “Shall I get a round?” That was what the Brits did, get rounds. “What are you guys drinking?”


@Cordelia Leighton @Edith Holthouse

“Right, so, the thing about this bloke is,” Cordy took a big swig of her drink, swallowed, continued, “He’s American, right? But otherwise he’s decent. Works at Frida’s, gives me free food all the time.”

The first free treat had been a surprise - she had gotten just a little too drunk on a girls night, wandered into the kitchen in Wizarding London’s only decent Mexican joint, gotten very curious about one of the chef’s tattoos, When she wandered back out to the rest of the Daily Prophet junior staff, she had a free plate of sopapillas in hand.

The next time she came in (sober) that chef had remembered her, brought her another little snack to go with her drink and they chatted at the bar for a while longer than maybe was ok with Noah’s boss. His brash American accent and general open demeanour was endearing. Despite being a little older than her, Noah seemed way more innocent, somehow. Like a puppy or something. So when Michael couldn’t make trivia with her and Edith, and she was at Frida’s again anyway, she invited the cook on impulse.

Edith and Cordy had only just discovered this joint a couple weeks back. They were meeting up more regularly now that they were working on the story, but also just to hang out. Trivia was a shockingly fun stress reliever- drinks, esoteric muggle knowledge, what could be better? But it was clear the game was best played with a group of three. But Edith didn’t know Noah, so it seemed prudent to meet up a little early and warn her.

“And he’s a bit loud, but that can only help in here, right? Oh, look,” the door opened and there he was, looking much smarter than usual and a tad uncomfortable. “There he is!” Cordy waved him down, standing up to give him a hug in greeting. “You’re fine, don’t worry,” Cordy said, “it starts a little late every time, you’re just in time.” She turned. “Noah, Edith, Edith, Noah!” Maybe she was a little tipsy already.

“Oh, a round would be lovely, thanks,” she said, sliding back into her seat. “She’s got a G&T, I’ve got a vodka cran.” She lifted the remainder of her drink as if to show what a vodka cran was, then drank the remainder.

When he turned to go, Cordy turned to Edith. “Well, what do you think?”


 

Cordy said he was American-- “Right.” Edith nodded, reminding herself to not mock his accent immediately. “Thanks for the warning.” She laughed, nodded again: free food. “Brilliant.”

She’d thought -- very briefly -- about getting serious with trivia; she was really only good for Shakespeare and football and those questions didn’t come around as often as she’d like. She’d gone as far as looking into buying a little book of trivia -- Impress all Your Mates with Useless Knowledge -- but where was the fun in that?

This was kind of like book club, just another excuse to drink. And it was kind of fun, too; Edith was getting better about getting drunk with people, like.. drinking with people instead of solely on her own.

They needed a third and Cordy’s boyfriend was busy (and so was Edith’s, but that was nothing new). She’d asked Fergie -- the one other person she thought might be fun and have some niche knowledge -- but he had other plans, too.

Enter Cordy’s American.

Edith looked when she was told to, her glass still at her lips. She didn’t stand or offer a hug but she accepted the handshake, offering a, “Hiya,” once Cordy had finished the introductions. She had another drink instead of joining the chat, glancing at his arms (the tattoos!) and nodding along when he offered a round. “Yeah, cheers.” That meant the next round was on her, though, didn’t it? She rolled her eyes; she knew she should have bought the first round when it was just the two of them.

“Does he…” She looked from Cordy to Noah after he had walked over to the bar. “Have a tattoo of a knife?” She looked back to her mate with a laugh. “That’s fun.” She said it with sarcasm, laughing again before she finished off her drink.

Noah hadn’t expected a hug so was slow to return it -- awkwardly and with only one arm wrapping around her -- but that was a good sign, right? English people were usually a bit weird about personal space, or so he had found thus far. Maybe not Cordy; she'd not been shy about asking about his tattoos, anyway. It hadn’t occurred to him that the free food might have had something to do with her friendliness.

Edith was pretty too, and he felt bad just for thinking it -- which was stupid, because he wasn’t trying to hit on her, and he didn’t even know if Cordy liked him but what if they could somehow tell? He averted his eyes from his newest acquaintance, wary of looking at her too much or too long with Cordy right there. He brought his right hand up and nervously gripped the flesh just above his elbow on his left arm, distorting the little bit of medusa’s face peeking out from under his t-shirt sleeve.

“Uh, a G and T and a vodka cran, got it.” He nodded once, as if to confirm the order, before turning on the spot and slouching awkwardly back to the bar. He’d learnt to always carry pounds and pence along with galleons and sickles around London, which would be more of a pain if he hadn’t gotten used to doing the exact same thing back in New York. Noah ordered, debated over whether they’d be able to tell if he ordered a Coca-Cola with no alcohol, decided to go with asking for some rum in it just in case, and glanced back at the table while he waited. They were looking at him too, and talking, but he couldn’t lip read so he turned back around.

Drinks made, he picked them up carefully in a triangle formation, his long fingers splayed out to hold them without spilling their contents as he made his way back to the table and set them down. He sat and reached to extract his glass from the mix. “So, what’s the quiz about?”

"Thanks, love," Cordy said cheerfully, giving the New Yorker a smile as he lumbered off towards the bar. Turning back to Edith at her question, Cordy's eyes widened, grinning conspiratorially. "Isn't it just?" she responded, downing the last dregs of her vodka cran. "There are so many. I can't imagine getting inked that many times." She makes a face, as if to evoke the pain of a needle. "And half of them don't even move!"

Her eyes linger on Noah's retreating back for a second, contemplating the ink. Noah was warming her up to the concept of tattoos, but... A sidelong glance at Edith. They couldn't be the only wizards in England averse to tattoos, still. "Would you get one?" She asked idly, swishing the melting ice cubes in her highball glass. "They seem to be in vogue."  There was an idle thought for an article there, but given what she was working on for Edith, Cordelia felt no need to mention it. Besides, it might be nothing. Most of her thoughts at pubs turned out to be nothing.

Noah was walking back. Cordelia's gaze settled on his arms for a moment, catching a little wiggle of hair from the medusa tattoo. If any muggles had noticed, nobody had made a scene yet - but when Noah sat back down she leaned in, patting him on the arm - "Thanks," - and rolling a bit more of his sleeve down.

"Oh, the quiz?" Cordelia waved a hand airily. "Muggle stuff, pop culture, books sometimes." She tried to sound like she knew what she was talking about - last time there had been Disney trivia, and Cordelia had done remarkably well, but - "Edith carries the team, really." She neatly switches out her empty glass for the new one, raises it up. "Cheers - here's hoping we don't fuck it up." A beat, a clink, and down it goes.

Edith rolled her eyes; so fun. She’d meant it in a ‘are you sure he’s not a serial killer’ kind of way but however Cordy wanted to interpret it was fine with her. “Wild,” she said instead, glancing at his back one more time before looking back to the girl sat next to her.

“Oh, yeah.” Her response was more about them being in vogue than it was about her getting one; her mind had drifted to Dennis and his tattoos—that new ‘mudblood’ one, especially—but Cordy didn’t need to know that. Her gaze had drifted back to Noah even though they weren’t technically discussing him anymore. “Nah, I can’t decide,” she clarified after another second. She couldn’t shake the thought of her patronus as a tattoo but again, nah.

She looked away once Noah had started walking back; she tipped an ice cube into her mouth and chewed, looking at him one more time once he was at the table with the drinks. She reached for hers, moving it out of the way of Cordelia offering her thanks. Edith took a big sip and nodded. “Yeah, cheers.” Belated, but the thought was there.

Cordy went on to explain the quiz and Edith nodded along, laughing when she said that she carried the team—football and Shakespeare, but go on—and nodded one more time. “Cheers,” she said again, lifting her glass an inch before having another swallow. “We’ve come last every time so no pressure, really.” One time they came next to last, but she was trying to be reassuring.

The volume of the music dropped a little and the quizmaster—he insisted on the title and it had taken a few visits for Edith to realize he was very serious—let them know they had two minutes before they’d get started. “Oh, we’re, er—“ she glanced at Cordy before looking back to Noah. “Mickey Mouse Club.” The team name, she meant. “Cordy’s idea.”

Noah’s eyes quickly fell to where Cordy’s hands were touching his arm (and missed that she was only doing so to hide his magically charmed tattoos). He swallowed, feeling hot all of a sudden in this pokey little pub that only had a feeble fan blowing warm air from the bar towards them, oscillating painfully slowly and with no hope of reaching them in their corner. He glanced at the window nearest and found it had safety stays, only allowing it to open a few inches. What was it with England and not having air conditioning?

Noah looked back up as the quiz was explained to him. Muggle stuff. It took him a moment to translate that to No-Maj stuff -- he was a little distracted, still. “Oh,” he said, nodding once. Well, he knew some Muggle stuff, given his Dad had been a No-Maj and he still saw that side of the family for birthdays and Thanksgivings and Christmases when he was in New York. He was probably overdue seeing them, actually -- maybe this year...

Edith carries the team. Noah looked at her and smiled. “Do you like No-Maj— I mean, Muggle stuff?” he asked, correcting himself when he used the American term for non-magical (didn’t it make more sense?) persons. He erred on the side of caution with launching into the whole my dead Dad was a No-Maj explanation, given he was trying to actually make some friends outside of his workmates.

Noah drank when Edith said cheers, grinning behind his glass. “No pressure, got it,” he smiled, only a little nervously. He grinned again when she revealed the team name, then shrugged; “More of a Looney Tunes fan, personally,” he smirked. “Space Jam,” he explained.

The man leading the quiz cleared his throat and started going over the rules and general format of the quiz. Noah realised at this moment that this was his first proper quiz -- and even if they said they lost every time he kind of wanted to impress Cordy by getting some questions right (he knew he should have studied, but how did one study for general knowledge?). Noah sat up a little straighter, had another sip of his rum.


[out]

The idea of a tattoo hadn't crossed the young woman's mind before tonight, but now her imagination was running away from her. Something enchanted, of course, but what? Maybe a hat, a hat with little tentacles peering out from beneath it. Or a walrus, with tusks and --

Oh. Cordelia banished the thought from her mind with a reach to her empty glass.

At least it wasn't a long wait before Noah returned, and with an easy grin she could ground herself by pulling on the fabric of his shirt, then moving to take a big swig of her fresh drink. Even holding onto it while she explained the quiz, cold against her sweaty hands, helped. And when she finally took a swig, the sweetness and tartness burned through enough to clear her head.

Noah asked a question, slipping up and using that adorable American term. Cordelia grinned, pleased that Noah was making small talk. Wasn't it lovely when her friends became friends with her other friends? She should try this with Michael and Noah, next. Maybe Edith after that.

The music faded out. "Mickey Mouse Club", said Edith, and Cordelia put her hands up behind her ears, copying a motion Edith had made at her what felt like ages ago. "What's Space Jam?" Cordelia asked, curious - but the quizmaster was going into the rules now. Cordelia rolled her head across her shoulders, like an athlete warming up. "You must tell me after."

The quizmaster cleared his throat: "What is the Bard's shortest play?" Cordelia whipped her head around to Edith, eyes bright and expectant. "Maybe tonight is our night."

[[out]]

Did she like muggle stuff? It didn’t seem like a particularly malicious question, not coming from this bloke who had agreed to meet Cordy and her friend in a muggle bar for some muggle trivia-- and it didn’t look like he’d been tricked into the muggle aspects of it all, either. Edith was overthinking it though (as usual); she was a muggle in a former life and she nearly said as much, but she opted for an explanation that was a little easier to follow: “Muggleborn,” she said, jabbing both her thumbs back at herself.

She nodded enthusiastically as Cordy made the mouse ears, stopping just short of making them herself. Noah mentioned Looney Tunes and Edith grinned--at least he knew some muggle (or no-maj) stuff--and had been just about to say something about Space Jam when Cordy interrupted. She had seen it but she didn’t miss how Cordy was asking Noah for the explanation and she wanted to steer clear of all of that.

But none of it mattered, anyway. It was time for the first question, read aloud rather dramatically by the quizmaster and Edith beamed as soon as she heard the Bard. She nearly missed the back half of the question, so pleased with herself for probably knowing a question. Cordy looked to her and she thought she could be clever enough to come up with some quote in reply but her mind went blank; or, blank for everything save The Comedy of Errors.

Edith pushed the little slips of paper toward Noah with a lopsided grin. “Newbie has to write. That’s the rule.” The rule that she had made up just now, but a rule was a rule, all the same. She had another drink--she was halfway through the new one already--before she leaned in to reveal the answer to the table.

[[thread ]]