intergalactic [edith]

early september, 2003

Noah had made a decision at some point upon moving to London to try every pizza joint he walked past on his quest to find the best (by English standards) pizza in the city. This had gone well for the most part until he’d found one street with three pizzerias in a row  -- he’d risen to the challenge, obviously, he wasn’t a coward. Still, this was now coming in handy as he and Edith walked side-by-side down a street in Hackney, to what he considered the best ‘so far’.

They’d finished third-last at quiz, which was an improvement on the time he and Cordy had attempted to play as a pair and come dead-last. “So Chelsea FC, in London, has a rivalry with Leeds, all the way in Yorkshire,” he continued, still pronouncing ‘shire’ in that American way of his despite multiple attempts by his new friends to teach him the ‘proper’ way, “and you’re from Liverpool, which is like, just over from there, but you support Manchester, which are like, Liverpool’s neighbours?”

“How are there so many teams in such a tiny country?” he asked exasperatedly. It was impossible to keep up.

"Oh, here it is," he said, pointing at the restaurant. He pushed the door open to let Edith enter first, creating an archway with his gangly arm. "This is the closest thing I've found to a New York pizza that I don't have to make myself. And the garlic knots are sick," he told her. It was a narrow room, with shiny red booths lining either side and the counter at the far end, with the ovens beyond. A television on the wall was showing basketball, which Noah was distracted by for a second.

As they came up to the counter he reached into his pocket for his wallet. "I'll get it," he offered -- he’d invited her out, it was only fair he paid. "I'll get the Little Neck Combo. Can I get one cheese and one pepperoni? Thanks. Oh, and a coke."


@Edith Holthouse

Edith nodded along, doing her best to follow what he was saying, but she was still a bit drunk (which was why a walk and a pizza were such good ideas; drinking in London was so complicated now that she didn’t live in London). Noah said Yorkshire like that and she snorted softly, letting it slide. But he was right about her being from Liverpool--or as right as possible, considering she had told him as much in favor of not wanting to explain where Lunt was--and she grinned. “Right.” It was as over from there as-- whatever. “Manchester United,” she said quickly, correcting that instead of the neighbor thing. Heaven forbid someone overhear them and think she supported Man City.

She shrugged. “I dunno, how can you have such few teams with such a big country?” She meant football--the real sort--exclusively, of course.

Noah grabbed the door and she ducked a little to walk under his arm (though it wasn’t completely necessary), nodding a little as she straightened up again. She liked the look of the place--namely the pizza--and she nodded again as she laughed. “Sick. Right.” She was adding a lot to the conversation.

She took her eyes off the pizza and glanced over when Noah offered to pay--”Cheers, yeah.”--but looked back to the pizza as soon as he started ordering. “Er--” she glanced toward the bloke taking orders. “Same for me.” It was a rushed decision and it sounded like a lot of food but she was definitely hungry enough--and drunk enough-- for all of that.

He handed her two Cokes and Edith moved to a table while Noah paid, not wanting to linger and make it awkward. The television wasn’t showing football so she took the side not facing it, having a few swallows of her drink before Noah sat across from her and she pushed his drink a little closer to his side. She leaned back against the booth, slipping her hands into her jacket pockets. “So…” She glanced away for a second before she caught his eye again. “You liking London?” That might have been her go-to question when she didn’t know what else to talk about.

Noah grinned back at Edith, pointing a lone finger-gun at her; “Touché.“

He smiled again when she mimicked him (sick sounded so much funnier in her accent). Edith ordered the same as him and Noah paid while she found them a table. He took a seat opposite and glanced up at the television--glad she had given him the side facing the screen, even if it was a repeat of the Spurs versus the Nets from earlier in the year--then focused back on Edith.

He pulled his coke closer and cracked it open one-handed. He had a sip and wrinkled his nose -- he’d been drinking rum and cokes all night (trying to keep up with Cordy and Edith) and now he was regretting picking coke (sans rum) with his food, too. Edith spoke and Noah blinked at her, slow to comprehend but quick to respond: “Yeah, it’s great,” he answered automatically— then caught her eye--that look--and grinned sheepishly. “Okay, it’s—” He shrugged, spun his can around on the spot on the table. If she had doubted his sincerity she presumably wasn’t a fan herself. “It’s got nothing on New York,” he smirked lazily -- that was a safe answer, wasn’t it? Everyone was allowed to be proud of where they came from.

He shifted in his seat. “I haven’t seen much of England,” he admitted. “Saw a tiny bit of Scotland last week at the Highland Games, but I was working so I didn’t like, do the tourist thing.” He’d barely done the tourist thing in London and he’d been here over a year now. A server approached and delivered their slices of pizza and garlic knots on a tray. Noah divvied out their shares and then twisted in his seat to put the tray (now empty) onto the (also empty) table behind them, out of the way. He turned back and met Edith’s gaze. “You don’t like it?”

He said it was great but she knew how that sounded—she said London was great like that, too—and she raised her eyebrows. Noah grinned, so did she. He started backtracking and she nodded, having a sip of her drink. London had nothing on New York, apparently and Edith raised her eyebrows again, this time in interest.”Yeah?” She’d never been but she’d heard mostly-good things.

“There’s not much to see.” She shrugged. Cities and countryside and not so much in between. But he’d seen even less of Scotland, working at the Games. “Were you?” She hadn’t seen him or she’d been too drunk to notice; actually, on second thought, he would have stood out in the crowd. “I did the tourist thing,” she added quickly, looking at her hand around her can of soda, looking up again to mime a drink— that’d been her tourist activity.

The pizza arrived and Edith’s eyes went wide at the amount of food she’d ordered; it was going to soak up all the alcohol for sure (and the garlic knots looked sick). They hadn’t been delivered any cutlery and she glanced around for where to pick some up, glanced back at Noah when he turned back to her. “What, London?” She shrugged as she got up, hesitating for a second over the number of forks and knives to grab— two, she decided.

She sat back down, shrugging off the look he gave the cutlery, already holding a slice. “Dunno.” London again. “Nice that things are open past ten.” She cut off a bite of the slice of pepperoni. “Everyone moves here for work even though commuting isn’t really an issue.” She shrugged again and chewed. “I moved so I didn’t keep living with my parents.” Well, that and like, still trying to fit in with everyone at the Ministry who lived in London. She rolled her eyes. “So much for that.”

“Oh, but—“ she wiped her mouth with her napkin. “You moved her for work, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, New York’s the best city in the world,” he told her proudly, sitting up a little straighter and meaning every word. He’d heard it plenty of times and was patriotic enough to believe it, even without having ventured to enough (or any, excluding London) of the other ‘big’ cities to really compare. “It’s just got this like, energy, I dunno. Like London’s okay,” he said, just in case Edith was protective of the English capital, “but it feels like it’s got a bedtime or something.” He grinned, shrugging. “New York’s always awake.”

Edith told him there wasn’t much to see and Noah narrowed his eyes at her disbelievingly. “But everything here is so old, like, in the cool way,” he argued gently. “It’s like stepping into a time machine.”

Noah nodded. “Yeah, so I can add Mexican-Scottish fusion to my resumé now,” he grinned, a little goofily, then regretted it because dumb, so dumb. He caught her meaning and let his eyebrows rise. “Ah,” he said, pretending to be surprised, poorly hiding a smirk. “Not that you’d ever do that here, right?” he teased, recalling her impressive ability to ‘sink a pint’, as she had demonstrated more than once over quiz.

“Yeah,” he answered her, watching the brunette curiously as she got up (and sneaking a better look at her while she wasn’t looking at him). The New Yorker picked up a slice of pepperoni first, not bothering to dab the grease off with a napkin as he’d seen some lady do last time he was here. Edith sat back down and Noah’s eyes went to the cutlery, then back to her face -- he was mid-bite and had already committed to using his hands.

It took him a moment to process what she meant--commuting not being an issue for wizards--because he was so focused on her cutting up her pizza slice with a knife and fork. “Huh?” He flicked his dark eyes up to meet hers, greener in this light than the brown they had seemed in the pub lighting. “Uh, no—” He lowered his slice and picked up his can of coke with his other hand, had a sip. “I moved here with my girlfriend,” he corrected her. “Ex-girlfriend,” he amended and had another bite of pizza. “I think she moved back.” Not that had anything to do with him staying.

Edith laughed; Mexican-Scottish fusion. It was no weirder than her own CV: unemployed, to the Ministry, to the Prophet, to the Quibbler. But he called out her drinking and she shook her head, suppressing a grin. “No, never.” That was solely tourist behavior.

He said he hadn’t moved there for work and Edith furrowed her brow a smidge, looking down at her pizza. Why had she thought he’d done that? Someone must have said it, somewhere, or she’d just assumed that was why because it was literally why everyone moved there.

Except maybe that other reason. She was mid-bit when he said girlfriend--again, had she assumed otherwise because someone had said that? or-- ex-girlfriend. Christ, she knew absolutely nothing about him, for this to be some sort of news. She had no idea why she cared; she couldn’t say they were proper friends--couldn’t use that as the reason--if the only things she knew about him were that he was American, worked at Frida’s, and had tattoos.

“You think?” It was the first thing that came into her brain to ask, before she realized she probably shouldn’t have, but it was too late to take it back and she took another bite of her pizza to stop herself from asking anything else. They had that in common, anyway, the ex moving back. Noah had her beat, though; he’d actually done the moving somewhere for someone, which Edith hadn’t managed to do.

She swallowed and looked up. “Mine’s moved to Germany.” She waited a beat before clarifying: “My ex.” It felt weird to give Elias that qualifier now, even to someone who she assumed had never met him. “That’s why I moved back to Lunt--” she remembered he’d have no idea where that was and corrected herself-- “Liverpool.” She looked down and cut herself another bite, though she didn’t immediately move to eat it.  She shrugged one shoulder and glanced up again. “Pizza’s good. Sick.”

Edith was looking at him a little funny and Noah wasn’t sure whether it was a good funny or a bad funny. “Uh, yeah,” he nodded. “She was pretty mad.” He bit his lip and glanced up at the television screen; should he tell her? Probably, get it all out in the open.

“She thought me and Emma were...” he trailed off, gave Edith a look that said what he wasn’t saying out loud. “But it’s not like that,” he added hastily. “We’ve been friends since we were like, I dunno, nine or ten or something.” Far too long for something like that not to have already happened if it was going to -- not that that particular thought had crossed his mind. “It’d be like hooking up with my sister,” he said, finishing off his second slice of pizza and moving onto his garlic knots. “Anyway, she broke up with me and then I had to find somewhere to live, so I moved in with Emma because I couldn’t afford anything else. And I think that really, like, sealed the deal.”

Edith said hers moved to Germany and for a good few seconds Noah thought she meant her boyfriend, and he was about to say he couldn’t fathom the long-distance thing when she clarified: her ex. “Oh,” he said loudly, as realisation dawned. He tried not to look too relieved. It must have been serious if they were living together -- nevermind that he’d lived with all of his adult girlfriends at some point or another, some as quickly as two weeks after getting together. “I just thought you lived with your parents to save money or whatever,” he said casually, clearly not judging her for doing so had that been the case.

Noah smiled appreciatively at sick. “It’s not quite the real thing, but it’s close.” He dipped a knot in sauce and bit into it. Still chewing, he explained: “Somebody told me it’s to do with the water, like for real. New York water like, makes the pizza dough and bagels and stuff have a unique taste or something.” He hadn’t really believed it until he’d tried to recreate pizzas he’d made time and time again in New York here in London and been unable to get the exact result.

Noah finished chewing and swallowed, had a sip of coke. He glanced hesitantly at Edith. “So… What happened? With your ex?”

Him and Emma; Edith nodded, deciding not to mention that she had kind of thought the same thing. Never mind that she had boy (space) friends who were not boy(no space)friends, which really begged the question: were she and Elias still friends or-- nah, she needed to listen to Noah, not drunkenly random to herself. She grimaced--hooking up with his sister--and carried over the expression as he finished his thought. Naturally, Edith had something very helpful to add: “Yikes.” That about summed it up.

She shook her head and shrugged. She didn’t move in with her parents to save money, not initially, anyway. But it made sense, when she thought about it, living with her parents instead of trying to find a flatmate or trying to afford a London flat by herself.

Changing the subject to pizza was easier. Edith watched him as he talked, reminding herself to blink after what felt like too long. She laughed, (hopefully) covering for herself, when he mentioned New York’s special water. “That’s weird.” Maybe that’d come up at trivia, though; then they could count on being third to last. (Progress.) Still, it didn’t make it any less weird. “Guess I have to go to New York, then.” See it--or taste it, whatever--for herself, because this pizza was good and if it was better there, then it only made sense to go. She finally ate the bite she had cut for herself a minute ago.

After a few more seconds of considering her second slice, she ditched her cutlery and picked it up, though she put it back down when he asked that question. “Oh, er--” She shrugged, like she hadn’t been replaying the whole thing in her head over and over again, analyzing everything that had gone wrong. “He moved to Germany.” She had already said that, hadn’t she? She backtracked a little. “Was kinda sudden and I just--” She shrugged again. “Didn’t want to go.”

She decided to hold back the information that Elias had never told his parents they were dating, and it had taken ages to even admit they were living together, as friends. Flatmates. It was a whole Thing that she didn’t want to get into; she wasn’t the kind of drunk, besides, the kind that overshared. She was leaning more toward the type of drunk that-- she needed to stop staring at him; that’s what she needed to do. It was too soon for starting and-- “He’s German,” she said, as if that explained everything, anything she could say to keep herself from getting distracted.

Edith laughed and Noah grinned. “Yeah, it is, huh?” he agreed -- hoping she was referring to the water influencing the taste and not the fact that he knew about it. She didn’t seem too put off, though, saying that she guessed she’d have to go. Noah’s grin widened; “Yeah, for sure.” As she popped a bit of pizza in her mouth, he stopped short of telling her she better not use a knife and fork to eat pizza in New York.

Almost as though she’d read his mind, Edith set her cutlery down and started using her hands -- Noah almost praised her, but that would be weird, wouldn’t it?

Edith said her ex moved to Germany--niche--and Noah realised that she’d said that a minute ago -- he just hadn’t put together that his moving had been the cause of their breakup, as opposed to something he’d done as a result of it. “That’s kinda how I ended up here,” Noah told her, thinking about how it had all been pretty sudden -- but he’d come with Daniela when she’d announced her desire to move to London, because he’d missed out when a previous girlfriend had upped and moved to Los Angeles without him. “Didn’t really, you know, plan it. Just went with it.” In hindsight, it might not have been the worst decision he’d made on impulse.

Noah finished his last garlic knot and grabbed a paper napkin to wipe his hands (mostly) free of the grease, glancing around the small restaurant for as long as it took him to do so. He brought his attention back to Edith and just kinda watched her eat -- fortunately, she was just kinda watching him too. Maybe Mike was wrong about girl number one versus girl number three -- maybe he was, too—

He’s German. “Who?” Noah said, then quickly followed it up with a loud “OH,” as realised she was still talking about her ex-boyfriend. “That makes more sense -- moving there.” He glanced at the television, then away in case it came across as rude. He drummed his tattooed fingers on the counter, unsure what to move onto after breakup chat.

Edith had almost finished eating, though, and Noah didn’t want to give her the opportunity to bid him goodnight just yet. He frowned, hurriedly trying to come up with a plan— New York. Not actual New York, but— “You wanna get another drink?” he asked, his eyes drifting to her can of soda before flicking back to meet hers. “A real one.”


[ out ]

He said that was why he was there, and Edith raised her eyebrows and lowered them again instead of nodding. She had figured that out already, hadn’t she? That was why she was talking about Elias going to Germany; she didn’t make the grand romantic gesture that Noah had, presumably dropping everything and moving somewhere he knew no one, barely spoke the language (no-maj, sick, elevator, etc.). But it hadn’t worked out for Noah in the end, which almost made Edith feel better-- not because she was glad he was single, but because it propped up her belief that she had made the right decision regarding her whole Elias situation. And maybe it was a little bit because he was single, but that was mostly the gin talking.

Edith picked up a garlic knot, trying not to feel too awkward about being the only one eating now. Was she a slow eater or was he a fast one? She guessed that sharing chips at a pub hadn’t helped her figure that out, and neither did staring at him now. She blinked and had another bite, glancing around the pizza place. Was it kitschy? She liked it.

Who, he asked, quickly followed by an Oh. Edith nodded, shifting her expression into one that said, ‘yup’, because her mouth was full and she had enough forethought not to say it. She didn’t offer any more information once she had swallowed, because what else was there to tell?

But did she want another drink? “Always.” She nodded before she stuffed what was left of her garlic knot in her mouth; it was just barely too big a bite but she powered through. He probably would have waited for her to finish up but drinking side-by-side in a dim pub seemed less awkward than facing each other under fluorescent lights. That, and she was a self-diagnosed alcoholic--she reasoned with herself that she had the trauma to back it up--so another drink sounded great, but she didn’t mention that bit to Noah. That wasn’t cute; she had no idea why that mattered now, but it sure seemed like it did. Christ, she really did need another drink before she made this weird.

“There’s a pub ‘round the corner,” she said, wiping her hands on a napkin. She assumed as much anyway, because this was London and god bless its abundance of pubs.

[[ end ]]