{for he's a jolly good fellow} fergie

Sometimes it was imperative to let off some steam. Especially when one was in her line of work in particular. Sometimes, she mused, there were particularly hard days when she got a certain case and it sent a frission of anger in her so strong she wanted to destroy something. Outwardly you'd never tell. Roslyn quite enjoyed to project a certain image of unbothered jolliness that very few people would ever look past. Her mother, for one, never bothered to acknowledge anything beyond the superficial, much as she loved her family. Her father still treated her like a glass doll. Her brothers always knew when something was wrong, though. She loved them endlessly for it, which is why she turned a blind eye to their homicidally overprotective tendencies.

Point was with the day she'd had it was definitely a drinking day. And she knew just the person that would benefit from a bit of a binge as much as she did right now. "Fergiieee." she called, pushing down on all her bad thoughts, and all her anxiety. A good pint with good company would do them both good. She couldn't be that for Fergie if she were brooding, even when she felt like falling apart in her bedroom and in seclusion would be good. Seclusion never led to anything good for her, and she definitely did not want to go down that path tonight. Perhaps her friend would be able to distract her from those thoughts. The worst part of being an Auror, she figured, was the inability to do anything about something that had already happened. The victims of things and the aftermath of cruelty.

There weren't very many people that worked in the Muggle Liaison office so she didn't feel the need to be too quiet. "Come on then! Time for drinks." she declared, having reached him. She gave him a small smile, her eyes crinkling in true enjoyment at seeing him, before she tugged on his arm. "I'm stealing Flume away. He's officially done for the weekend. Say byeee Fergie." she waved her fingers as she dragged her friend towards the nearest floo. "We are having a binge tonight." she declared, eyeing the wizard with a smile. He was a lovely man, truly, and she already felt a bit better for having the much-needed company. "To Scotland we go!" and with that, they were off.

@Fergie Flume   

january 2004

Fergiieee.

The Scotsman shrunk in his chair, glancing out of the corner of his eye to see Lysander smirking at him from the next desk over. He peered over his shoulder and caught their newest recruit--Henry Murphy--turned in his seat to take a look at the visitor, too. Great.

Fergie sat up straighter. “Hiya Ros,” he said quietly, as if to make up for how loudly she had announced her presence in the small office. “I’m actually--” in the middle of something, he had been about to tell her, but perhaps the lesser of two evils was to leave this until next week (or pop in on the weekend) rather than suffer through Lysander (and now Henry) looking at him like that any longer.

Fergie got to his feet and flashed an apologetic look at Lowell. “See you all on Monday,” he said, grabbing his coat from the rack. He didn’t get the opportunity to put it on because Roslyn was still holding on to him, as though he might drift back to his desk if she let go.

They were in the corridor en route to the elevators. “A binge?” he repeated, trying to decide if he (and his stomach) was up to that. “What’s happened?” he asked as they entered the lift. The cage doors closed with a ding, then a moment later reopened with another as they arrived at the atrium floor. Fergie made a point of avoiding meeting Brian the Security Wizard’s eye, shirking his coat on now that Roslyn had finally released him (temporarily at least).

“Where you wanting?” he asked as they came up to the fireplaces; by this he meant Edinburgh, Glasgow, or did she have somewhere else in mind? He supposed they could Floo to Honeydukes, but he didn’t particularly want Honey to catch him coming down from the flat with a girl -- especially when said girl wasn't Edith.

It wasn't that Ros was oblivious so much as she didn't really pay attention to the things that seemed uninteresting to her. Gawking ministry employees were nothing new and she collected official complaints like one would a trophy. It amused her greatly and stares of any kind were ignored for the most part, unless they directly related to her job. Glances were completely under her radar in terms of things she actually cared about. Be it judgmental, appraising, or appreciative. She did pay attention when Fergie was all quiet though. Her eyes widened as she took her friends general lack of enthusiasm, pout forming along her lips, and protestations on the tip of her tongue before the man seemed to change his mind. Guh. She was sure that, for a split second, Fergie had been tempted to just not run off with her.

Still, his acquiescence soothed some of the rejected hurt she felt oddly stung by as she gave his co-workers another little wave. She gave Fergie an approving and pleased-sounding grunt when the man did not dislodge her in favor of actually putting on his coat. Her lips curved up into a genuinely delighted grin when she realized that he seemed to be in the mood to indulge her whims for the moment. She winced a second later when he asked. Leave it to Fergie to catch on to the deeper need she had for some company and a distraction. "Well." she started, wondering how much she really wanted to get into before she changed her mind and shook her head. "I need a pick-me-up if I'm going to talk about it." and she wasn't talking about pepper-up, either. "Edinburgh. Definitely, definitely Edinburgh. I know a place." she decided, a crooked smile on her face, as she finally relented and let go of the man.

She took a step forward, grabbing a handful of floo powder, before clearly enunciating her destination. With a wink and gesture the witch stepped through the flames, clearly expecting the wizard to follow through after her. The destination was a small pub in Edinburgh called 'The Scotsman'. Stepping out of the flames and through the fireplace the witch waited patiently for her friend to appear, heels tapping up against the wooden floor of the foyer. The Scotsman was decorated in tasteful forests greens and deeply polished mahogany wood. Butterly leather stools and comfortable seats littered the pub along with small rounded tables. The bar stood in the center, decanters and glasses shinning brightly as people got their orders and went about; chatting, eating, and drinking. 

“Righto,” he said, accepting her delay. If Roslyn really didn’t want to talk about it he wouldn’t press her, of course, but he knew from experience that she usually just needed a drink in her hand to loosen her tongue. Not that she wasn’t talkative enough without alcohol, but it definitely made her more talkative, he’d found.

“Edinburgh,” Fergie repeated as she released him. He watched as the pretty brunette was engulfed in green flames, then stepped into the fireplace to follow after her. Roslyn was waiting for him at the other end and he adjusted his hold on his coat awkwardly, suddenly aware of the fact he probably ought to have gone home, walked and fed Bonnie, maybe popped around to Edith’s new flat (or lured her to his -- he wasn’t sure how comfortable Edith was with her new flatmates yet). Almost definitely shouldn’t be going for a drink with a woman who wasn’t his girlfriend -- not that it was like that, but what if someone got the wrong end of the stick?

Fergie met Roslyn’s eyes briefly. “I’ll grab us a round,” he offered quickly, hinting for her to find a table--it wasn’t quite time for most people to have finished work yet so they wouldn’t have to battle for a spot, at least (and, he thought, Bonnie wouldn’t quite be missing him yet)--as he headed to the bar. He briefly debated over if that meant it was too early to start on the whisky, but when in Rome…

He brought their drinks over to the table and set them down, then draped his coat over the back of his seat before sitting and loosening the top button of his shirt. He picked up his glass and had a sip, then a larger one. “I have to be back to feed the dug at some point,” he warned her.

It was moments like this where she really appreciated her friend. Fergie really was a great bloke, not pushy in the slightest. She'd get around to it, maybe, or perhaps getting sloshed was more in order. She could feel her stress levels rising and it wasn't the first time where she contemplated taking some time off to let loose. For right now, though, she had dependable friends that begrudgingly indulged her whims.

She grinned once Fergie materialized after her, taking in his awkward shuffle, and answering with a concerned sort of frown. She could tell something was bothering him just then but couldn't really pin point what. "Are you alright Fergie?" she questioned softly, hovering like a hen for a second, before giving them both a little more space. She was an extremely tactile person and had a tendency to crowd people she was comfortable around. The urge to smooth over his sudden anxiety was strong, too, so it took a bit of will power not to corner him and poke. Figuratively and literally. "Alright." she agreed, willing to let it go, as she met and held his gaze. He was off to the bar and she was left to ponder his behavior, wondering if she'd somehow done something. She always tried to be a bit more careful and considerate around those she considered not soft exactly. Kind wasn't the right word, either, though it fit Fergie as well.

She made herself comfortable regardless, taking her coat off and literally pouring herself into her seat. She blew her hair away from her face, her gaze shifting along the other patrons, before landing on Fergie. She made a happy sound, smile blossoming around her lips, as she took the offered drink. She glanced back up, surprised, before looking back up at Fergie. Was that why he was so anxious? She felt sort of guilty now, especially when she thought of her own little demon. Moose was well taken care of, benefiting from being around her mother at the bookshop all day, and lavished with attention as soon as she got home. "Do you need to go now?" she asked, frowning a bit. "Was that why you're so anxious? I don't want to keep you if you have to go. Moose would be furious with me if I kept him waiting." Roslyn had a kind heart for animals, to a very high degree.

Fergie looked up at Roslyn from his whisky. Did he need to go now? “N—”

Anxious? His eyes went wide. Oh, Merlin. It must have been radiating off of him. How was he supposed to explain? “No, she’ll be alright for a wee bit,” he said with a forced effort to sound reassuring, then bit his lip. “It’s not that.” The look Roslyn was giving him now was possibly worse than the concern over his dog. “It’s not you,” he added hastily.

Telling Roslyn would be premature, wouldn’t it? They hadn’t even made anything official yet but— But he couldn’t not tell her, now that he could see the wheels in her head whirring around. And how could he explain that his primary concern was borne from the fact that she was a pretty brunette, but the wrong pretty brunette to be seen having a drink with? Not that he was going to necessarily be seen by anyone here, but Lysander (and Henry) had seen him leave the office early with the Scottishwoman and—

“I’m seeing someone,” he said quickly, his cheeks warming a shade or two as he looked down at his drink. “And I just, I dunno.” He shrugged, twiring his glass in his hand slowly on the tabletop. “I don’t want anyone to think, you know.” He was growing increasingly redder by the moment, still not meeting her eye. “My sister’s kind of set us up with a wee reputation—” Roslyn had heard all about the Honey the harlot article, “—but am no like that.”

His eyes flicked up to Roslyn. “Nor are you, obviously,” he blurted out.

Confusion swirled in her teal eyes, but she kept her mouth firmly shut, as he spoke. So there was something. But what could possibly...? She blinked, surprised, as a slow smile spread on her face in time with the flush on her friends cheeks. This was a good thing, then. "Ferg..." she started, voice soft and incredibly fond, as she leaned forward. "I haven't seriously dated anyone in years-" she started, feeling a flash of something, as she considered his words. There was a time, after Nir, where she'd wanted someone soft and sweet. Comfort and affection. She'd thought maybe but then the'd always just been friends. There was something wistful in her, even after years, but she really did not know what she wanted when it came to love and romance, not like Fergie. She was so happy, really, because her friend deserved all of the happiness he could find.

"We've been mates since Hogwarts, ye' big dafty." she added with a bit of a grin. "No one's going to think you're skipping out on your girl. I'll be on my best behavior, yea? And you're one of the best blokes I know." she reassured, as she held onto her drink, and tried to catch her friends eyes. He finally looked up, and she could feel something soft and sweet catch in her chest, as she shot him the softest look she could manage. "Is it Edith, then?" she asked, grinning a bit. "You've been sweet on her for a bit." she tacked on helpfully, before considering her words. She knew she was sort of stalling, instead of addressing the last bit he'd said. He was right, of course, because she hadn't been forced to endure another horrible match-up by her mother since Harlan had saved her from murdering her date. She felt a bit of guilt well up in her chest and just knew Fergie would get overprotective about it but, well, urgh.

"There's uhm, something I need to tell you." she started, rubbing her hand across her neck and feeling quite sheepish. "I'm sort of fake-dating Will." she blurt out, feeling it would be best to just come out with it. "I finally had enough with my mothers blind date setups and I was desperate to just make her stop. The last one was so much of a disaster that Harlan of all people was kind enough to offer me a legitimate escape route." she added with a bit of a groan. "You know my mum' doesn't take no for an answer, they just show up!" her mother was a bit of a nightmare. "Anyway Will and I have sort of just, uhm, stepped in as eachothers dates and it's been really nice to have the pressure off, you know? Only I know you don't particularly like him so I just." she made a helpless sort of gesture with her fingers that expressed themselves all the way to her shoulders.

She winced internally as she realized she'd also sort of mentioned Harlan, whom he also did not like. Best to just skirt over that, really, despite the fact she felt pretty defensive about it. He was bound to get the wrong idea about it anyway since they were just... quasi friends. No deeper feelings there at all. (Except that she couldn't help her mind from flashing towards their last encounter and that moment in the library where they'd maybe almost kissed? Maybe it was all in her head, anyway, and he hadn't leaned in like that at all, not that she'd wanted him to. Of course not, except she maybe sort of did)

Fergie reluctantly met Roslyn’s eyes and glanced away, before looking back again. “I know, I wasn’t—” He hadn’t been suggesting that she fancied him (or vice versa — though maybe once, when they’d been younger, he had — but he wasn’t about to admit that now) — but what they knew to be true and what other people saw were two different things — which she seemed to understand, but was optimistically confident that nobody would think there was anything between them. “Right,” he nodded, not as reassured as he was pretending to be.

“I—” He swallowed, wondering how obvious he had been about it all if Roslyn had been able to pick this up without him explicitly telling her. Though it wasn’t like he hadn’t ever talked about Edith— but he’d always been talking about her in a professional capacity, he’d thought; perhaps, in hindsight, he’d talked about her a little too much. “Aye, it’s Edith,” he admitted, his cheeks warming again at her follow up comment. He had a drink of his whisky rather than answer that because he didn’t want to downplay his feelings for Edith, but they’d been friends first and then the desire to be more had sort of just bubbled up out of nowhere and he wasn’t sure at what point things had changed. “I mean, it’s not like— We haven’t made it official yet. I havenae told anyone else,” he mumbled sheepishly.

He set his glass down and flicked his eyes up to meet Roslyn’s when she spoke again. “What?” he asked, brow furrowing. “Will as in…?” he trailed off; Roslyn knew Will had dated Fergie’s sister, Honey — and Fergie had never disliked Will (if anything, he felt sorry for the poor bloke for how things had gone), but Will had never seemed the type to ‘fake-date’, as Roslyn had put it. Privately, Fergie supposed he ought to be grateful that Ros hadn’t asked him to fake-date (morally he wouldn’t have agreed to it, but as a friend he might have felt obligated). Fergie sat back in his seat and allowed himself a moment to work out how to respond sensitively. “Does… Will know it’s… you know? I just— He went a bit head over heels for my sister.” He was going off of Honey’s testimony, of course, and that wasn’t always reliable — but it was a risk, wasn’t it?

He backtracked suddenly; “Did you say Harlan?” It wasn’t a common name, and she’d first-named him, too, which was even more concerning because that had to mean it was the same Harlan that Honey had also dated — right after (or overlapping, he’d given up trying to work it all out) with Will. The Harlan that had cheated on his sister when she finally seemed to be acting like a grown up in a relationship, and now look at her. “Harlan Bellamy?” Fergie repeated, eager to clarify before he got his wand in a knot over nothing.

The brunette witches lips twitched, a giggle gurgling past her open mouth, as she took in the expresion on her friends face. He seemed rather flummoxed though she couldn't understand why. It seemed simple enough to her, though, mainly because she didn't really see the draw. In her mind no one would have anything to say because she assumed people would naturally come to the same conclusion she had, ages and ages ago. If they'd gone so long being just friends it seemed sort of inconceivable that people would look at them and see more than what there was on the surface. She didn't think past how other people would have front row to the incredible fondness she held for Fergie - it was there, really, plain for others to see. She treated him a lot differently than she treated most men save for Micah. But they were friends! One was allowed to feel deep affection for friends and people shouldn't assume the wrong thing because she had a tendency to be tactile and horribly sappy and- "I acknowledge your point." she said, giving in a bit, just as she'd managed to convince him. "I'll try not to y'know." she said, as she flickered her fingers between them and pantomimed a kiss.

She felt a little churlish about it, too, for a solid moment but let that go. Fergie wasn't hers to glomp and hang on all the time and whatever she'd felt privately for the man (and considered as one-sided as it was possible to be because she was beyond oblivious when someone had feelings for her) held no baring on how he felt it all impacted his blossoming relationship. She could respect that it was a concern for him, at any rate, and all she really wanted was to see him happy. Her gaze was warm as she catalogued the flush on the man's cheeks at his admittance. He hand't ever really described Edith in a way that was anything more than friendly but Fergie also hadn't mentioned another woman to her hardly ever and so the frequency of which he'd spoken about Edith had stood out to her as something other than a rote interest. "It'll all work out splendidly, Ferg. We should all go out at some point when its less fresh and you've got your relationship sea legs on, yea?" she offered hopefully, coking her head to the side, as she widened her teal eyes at him. She didn't fancy loosing all of Fergie to someone else, thank you. She was an adult that could share but she also knew the first few months of any new relationship could be wonderfully new and also anxiety inducing until boundaries were sorted.

"What?" she asked, teal eyes wide, as she choked and garbled her beer like a kid tasting firewisky for the first time. "Will does not fancy me." she finally managed to get out, pained laughter coming out of her in a bit of a squawk. "Sorry just- thats so hilariously preposterous." she finally managed, still laughing, as she looked at her friend seriously. "Honestly. Him fancy me. I don't think I'm his type at all." she tacked on, disbelieving. (In her unfortunate experience men either wanted to bed her or they wanted to be friends and on some memorable occasions, sometimes that was both. Part of the reason she was so closed off, she supposed, was her inability to recognize when something could potentially be more) "He's just- its- convenient, for the both of us. My mother hasn't hassled me for months now and I haven't been subjected to a single set-up since, well, just Will's a nice bloke." no point mentioning the thing that she was just going to gloss over neatly. Only she couldn't because Fergie wasn't an idiot. Damn it.

"Hmm, yes?" she squeaked, trying to sound innocent, but realizing her mistake and wanting to just gloss everything over and distract Fergie before he started frothing properly. Maybe if she treated this like a cleaning spell... She wasn't privy to the details exactly only that it involved Honey. Naturally Fergie wouldn't get this troubled over something unless it involved his sister somehow. "He was...nice." she said slowly, biting her lip, as she thought of how to veer the conversation elsewhere. She didn't mention that he'd also shown up at the shop or that she'd seen him again after. It was all coincidence anyway! It wasn't like it was planned, really, and she was allowed to be friends with someone Fergie disliked, right? She wasn't sure. She supposed it really depended on why Fergie disliked him, she mused. If she'd done something to her friend it would complicate things because she wasn't sure- "Did he do something to you then?" she questioned, concerned, as she bit her lip.

Roslyn said she would try not to y’know and Fergie pressed his lips together in an apologetic line — he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to explain to her that she was essentially a threat without sounding like he was into her (or had been), but she seemed to recognise that things would have to be a little different, moving forward.

“We—” Fergie blinked. When it’s less fresh. He had a sip of his whisky. “Aye, good idea.” It was — it was just a lot to process. He couldn’t see Edith and Roslyn getting along, so to speak — Roslyn was a lot. Lovely, but a lot. Edith was more like him, he thought; happy to socialise but needed time to withdraw and recharge. He smiled weakly at the brunette across from him.

Fergie raised his eyebrows at Roslyn pointedly — once again he felt the need to ask her if she had seen herself (lately, or ever — she’d always been good-looking, even in school), but wasn’t sure how to do so without making things weird or making Will out to be someone he wasn’t. “I mean, he’s not a shallow bloke as far as I know, but he’d have to be blind,” Fergie said, glancing from Roslyn down at his drink to avoid eye contact. “He is nice, though, yeah.” Honey had found him too nice, probably, which was a bit of a shame because Fergie had liked him — he’d like him for Ros, too; the problem here was that Ros potentially leading the man on.

But more importantly: Harlan Bellamy. Fergie groaned and sandwiched his face between his hands, elbows on the table. “Ros,” he lamented, pressing his fingertips to his (now closed) eyes before dropping his hands back to the table. He was nice. Fergie’s jaw set and he shot the brunette a dour look. “I’ll bet he was,” he said darkly.

Had the international quidditch player done something to Fergie? The Scotsman opened his mouth— then he paused. He had promised Honey never to tell anyone—she was embarrassed, he assumed—and he pressed his lips together and exhaled softly through his nose. “Not to me,” he clarified after a moment’s pause, not technically breaking his promise. How was he supposed to tell Roslyn that Bellamy was a slimy git without saying exactly what had happened? Ros wasn’t the type not to pry, so he couldn’t even be vague about it. “Nevermind,” he said, picking up his whisky and having a long sip.

There was a lot to be read on Fergie's face, even when he didn't use words to communicate. At the heart of it all she was motivated primarily by wanting Fergie to be happy. (At some point she had hoped she was the one that could do that but well she wasn't the type to cry over lost opportunities, especially when she cared about someone). "I'll be good and I won't bombard either of you." she promised quietly, feeling a flush spread across her face. It wasn't pure embarrassment exactly, but she'd always been unapologetically herself. She tried to curb some of her rowdiness and a lot of her tactile impulses but it was difficult around those she ... cared for. Silly Hufflepuff probably had no idea how much she did care for him, and she wasn't about to clue him in. Having know each-other this long there'd been plenty of opportunity if he'd been interested and in her mind that he hadn't meant he'd never been interested.

She'd never pushed for more, either, but that had more to do with her inability to determine if she was commitment material, anymore.

She felt a stronger flush on her face, this time up to her ears, as she laughed around her drink. Something about real compliments always caught her off guard, the genuine-ness of it leaving her unsure how to respond exactly. "I- we're not-" teal eyes came up to meet grey-blue as she bit her lip. "Its not like that with us." she finally said, voice quiet, but gaze steady. She wasn't ready for a man like Will, and didn't think she ever would be, though it was nice to pretend. Her friends had been there through years of bullshit from her and had won her heart and loyalty at a time where her heart hadn't been broken. Not that it had been it was difficult to trust things, maybe trust men in that way specifically. It would have been a mountain she wouldn't have had to cross with Fergie because, well, she'd climbed that mountain when she'd been fit an able hand't she? It would always be easy to trust Fergie Flume, steadfast Hufflepuff that he'd always be.

Which is why she'd stalled on telling him about Harlan at all. She didn't like seeing that expression on Fergie's face, though, not at all. It made her feel rather small, actually, with his jaw set like that and disapproval written in every inch of it. "What's that supposed to mean, exactly?" she shot back, frowning, as she crossed her arms. Nothing had happened, thank you, and she was sort of mad about the implication. (Even if something had sort of almost happened. She didn't want to admit Fergie was probably right about whatever it was he was thinking)

Not to me

Which meant someone he cared about didn't it? She was about to open her mouth, needle him into details, before he dismissed it. She looked at him, studied his face, as he took a sip of his drink before she leaned back and let go of the irritation that had started to build. Annoying as she could be about boundaries she knew when to push and when to not. Considering how vocal he'd been about his dislike she was certain he'd be open about whatever proof he had, if it wasn't private. She wondered at that, but then decided it didn't matter. It wasn't like she needed proof from Fergie, though she'd like to formulate her own opinion. She could compromise though, because she hated seeing Fergie upset. "I'll be careful." she said earnestly, a small smile curling along her lips.

Fergie pressed his lips together in a weak smile and brought his whisky up to drink again. As much as he was sure Roslyn intended to stick to her promise he couldn’t help but think she’d break it the moment she met Edith — if she met Edith, he corrected himself. Not that he didn’t want them to meet, but what if Edith woke up tomorrow and decided that actually this wasn’t working for her? Seemed unlikely but he’d thought that about every other girlfriend and almost-girlfriend, and he couldn’t ever remember being the initiator of a breakup. And Edith wasn’t officially his girlfriend yet, anyway. Felt like she was, but he’d learnt his lesson about that—using the term girlfriend before discussing it—too.

Roslyn laughed when Fergie gave her a roundabout compliment and he felt a prickle of heat run up the back of his neck. Thankfully, she quickly focused on the Will part of the conversation. “Alright,” he said, shrugging softly. “Just— keep an eye on it. Him.” Fergie frowned softly at the table between them. “He’s a nice bloke.” The he deserves a break went unsaid but Roslyn ought to be able to pick it up from Fergie’s tone and look in his eyes as he flicked his gaze back up to meet hers.

Fergie’s eyes went a little round. “I— didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, apologetic. He wasn’t accusing Ros of anything, and really ought not to be accusing Harlan of anything either but it was hard to just ignore the fact that the man had cheated on his sister. What was to say Harlan wasn’t in another relationship now, doing the same to someone else?

Roslyn didn’t push him to explain himself further though, and Fergie had a large gulp of whisky in relief. I’ll be careful, she offered, and the Scotsman lowered his sight to the tumbler in his hands, feeling guilty for poisoning her opinion of the other man. “I just don’t want you getting hurt,” he said quietly, bringing his eyes back up to meet hers. “If that’s— you know, if you’re thinking of seeing him or whatever.”

She made a mental note to stick to her words like she'd made a promise. Ferg's smile was less than convinced and it made her feel vaguely guilty. She'd hold on to that when she felt her self control slipping. She supposed they weren't young kids anymore and she supposed it really was time she at least tried to adhere to boundaries. Maybe she was maturing into an actual full-time adult as opposed to only a part-time one.

Completely oblivious to her friends discomfort, but still pleased about being complimented, the witch couldn't help but grin. "I will, I promise. You know I'm not careless with people's feelings, yea?" she murmured, fond, as she resisted the urge to lean forward and bump against him playfully. This restraint thing was already quite difficult but she knew change wasn't always a bad thing, and she loved Fergie enough to attempt it seriously, since it seemed to worry him so much. The concern for Will seemed unwarranted, in her opinion, because though she knew herself to be quite careless in a lot of aspects one thing she really did take seriously were how the people around her were feeling. She could be a little too honest, a little too abrasive, and a little too earnest a lot of the time but she always took the time to dial it back when she realized she was making someone feel, well, not good.

She wanted her people to always feel good, or at least, less bad. She wanted to impact those she cared for in a positive manner, at least, and she cared for Will. Its why they'd hatched the whole plot to begin with, she reasoned, though she wasn't completely blond to the potential ramifications. Things had the possibility of becoming messy and complicated but she figured they were both adults enough to navigate the treacherous waters and come out better for it. It was typical of Fergie to want everyone to be alright, though, a feature she very much appreciated in her friend. "One of the best." she agreed letting her own gaze hold his for a beat before her face softened. "Try not to worry so much, Fergie." she said, tone soft, as warmth softened her features.

The look on his face very much soothed her ire, especially at his round-eyed stare. She bit her lip, trying very hard to remain stern, but ultimately couldn't keep up the facade in the face of Fergie's apology. She'd argue that not many people could remain stern when that stare was directed at them. Maybe Honey but it was truly bound to soften any hardened heart. "I know." she allowed, sighing, as she glanced down at her glass and stared it down, a wistful sort of curve to her lips. "I'll always appreciate you looking out for me, truly, but you really don't need to worry in this case I don't think." she doubted anything would come of it. Harlan and her didn't exactly run in the same circles or anything and their private lives wouldn't naturally intersect unless they both made the attempt to make it so. She doubted he would and she wasn't the type to go chasing after someone anyway, no matter how handsome and interesting they seemed to her. It was her own turn to gulp down some more of her drink, though, and she almost choked on it. "I doubt I'm the kind of woman Bellamy would be interested in." she chortled, finally voicing her thoughts out-loud.

It wasn't even that she thought less of herself, either. She knew she was attractive but she was also a bit of a workaholic and that didn't really lend itself to lasting relationships. "We are just-" she started, trying to find a good word for what they were. More than acquaintances, less than friends? Was there a label for in-between? She finally settled on: "We just met." as she gave a little shrug, teal gaze flickering up to study Fergie's face as her own furrowed in thought. "Nothing to be concerned about, at any rate." she said with a little huff of laughter.

Roslyn told him to try not to worry so much and it took a lot of effort not to stare at her deadpan—she remembered his sister, right?—smiling weakly instead.

The Scotswoman appeared to realise Fergie’s intentions were good (when were they not?), and he swallowed softly. Then she told him he didn’t need to worry in this case and he pressed his lips together in a line, biting his tongue. He’d said his bit, that was really all he could (should) do.

Fergie sat up straighter at her self-dismissal. “Pfft,” he scoffed — then immediately wished he hadn’t, like he was giving something away. He drank instead, letting her continue. As he set his tumbler back on the table between them he kept his fingers loosely wrapped around the cut crystal. “If you say so,” he said flatly, unable to sound any more enthusiastic about it. He was rather keen to not talk any further about Harlan Bellamy at any rate, lest he spill the beans.

He finished the sliver of whisky in his glass, then checked his watch. “I, erm— better get back to Bonnie, she’ll be wanting her tea,” he explained apologetically, getting to his feet and grabbing his coat. “Next time give me a wee bit of warning and I’ll sort her out first, eh?” he suggested in an attempt to soften the blow, his lips twitching into a hesitant smile. “Maybe—” No, he wouldn’t promise to bring Edith yet. “Mind and don’t tell anyone about me and Edith yet?” he reminded her gently.

“See you Monday.”


[ out ]

Telling Fergie not to worry was an exercise in futility she knew but... she still tried. Maybe at some point he'd believe her enough not to worry. Possibly. She could at least try to make him feel better, though.

She always felt guilty for making him worry and this case was no different. It was a strange thing to her because his worry made her feel good (Fergie just cared, didn't he, and its just how he expressed those emotions) but it also made her squirm a bit from the scrutiny of it all. The duality of it was a lot, sometimes, but she still felt pleased overall. Fergie was a good man and a good friend and so it made it pretty simple for her to listen to him and his concerns, especially when he only wanted what was best for those around her.

She just had a bit of a habit of doing things that were bad for her mostly because she enjoyed doing what she wanted when she wanted. Sometimes her judgement could be better, especially when it came to men, but overall she was fine with whatever consequences came about. She knew Fergie just wanted to avoid her feeling like garbage, though, and so these conversations came about. Reassuring, amusing, and sometimes frustrating conversations but she'd still cherish them regardless. She smiled into her drink, trying not to laugh, as her gaze flickered up to her friend. "Don't pout so much, your face will get stuck that way." she teased, mouth turning up into a playful sort of grin.

"Thats fine, I should get home too." she reassured, making little hand motions to stall his apology. She stood up herself, dropping some money on the table, before pausing to glance up at her friend. "Promise." she confirmed nodding, as her eyes softened. Like she'd ever spill the beans on something Fergie ever told her. She was a vault, always. "Go on then, I'll see you later." she called out with a smile before making her own way out home. It'd been a nice evening overall.

{out!}