What took girls so long in the bathroom? Actually, Christian could relate. He was known for long showers and intricate routines as well. He was a methodical person, keen on routine and normalcy. However, he was also keen on appearances. He took a long time in the bathroom, too, and would try to cut it short later on in the night, either when Azalea had taken to bed, or just before. He had offered her the bed, he would sleep on the couch, and wasn’t necessarily looking forward to it, but he had certainly slept on worse. He remembered nights sleeping on a thin cot, nights on the floor. He had grown accustomed to his new level of comfort, but at the same time he remembered his roots by all means. As Azalea emerged, he smiled at her—finding her just as beautiful in her bedtime state as she had been all dressed up. He wasn’t used to this, the butterflies. He wasn’t used to any of it.
Christian was a late bloomer in the love department. He had met Azalea when he was seventeen, but had not been interested in her right away. He had not ever been interested in anyone “right away.†It had taken years of letters, of talking almost daily, for him to feel something brewing for her. Of course, she had always been beautiful. He had never denied that. Still, beauty wasn’t all he wanted in a woman. He wanted substance, and the two had much in common. They came from monumentally different backgrounds, but were interested in being and auror for the same reason—they believed in justice and doing the right thing. So many of his coworkers looked for power, or were corrupt. He wanted to believe there were still “good cops†left in this world. He wasn’t by the book, necessarily—there was no surviving for anyone who was—but he had noble intentions for his work.
They also liked many of the same things. Musical Theater being one of them. He had taken her to a no-maj Broadway show that evening, and it had been a big hit. She had loved it, and so had he. He loved puzzles and games, like her. He was passionate about “light†politics, much the same as her. He had never experienced anything like what she went through during the war, but there was still a lot of animosity between no-maj and wizards in America. Blood status was less of an issue, but was still bubbling beneath the surface for many. He knew she was uniquely affected by the war, and he, too, had lost someone of great importance to him, his mother. They could bond over their loss, and grow stronger together. Fifteen years later, and Christian still didn’t think he could ever fully heal from his mother’s death. He still grew angry, and focused that anger into his job. He wondered if he might have been in no-maj police, had he not been born magical. He wondered the same about Azaelea, and thought maybe he’d ask her one day. He had a hard time imagining being non-magical.
“We can sing karaoke from the show late into the night.†He assured. He opened a bottle of vodka and poured himself a drink over ice. “Care for a drink? I’ve got cranberry, orange, or seltzer if you want a mixer.†For good measure, he put a little seltzer in his own cup. He tasted the drink and decided he had been a little heavy-handed with the vodka, but he didn’t mind terribly. “I’ve got wine, too, if you prefer, but haven’t opened any bottles.†Vodka had less calories, and he was always watching his calories and macros—important to stay in his best shape. Especially since he had indulged in a rare slice of pizza earlier on in the evening.
Christian was tall, six-foot-two-inches, and around 200 pounds, heavy for his height. Still, it was almost all muscle. He was thick, broad, and in impeccable shape. He tended towards and endomorphic body type, and might have been chubby if he was not so determined to be in top physical form. He pushed his glasses up his nose as he came back to the couch, careful to sit far enough away from her that their thighs wouldn’t touch. He wasn’t sure how to continue this. Obviously, she made his stomach ache. He thought that seemed bad, but had heard it was normally a good sign. He had no experience with women, though, and it made him freeze up when he thought of trying to even touch her hand.
“Oh, you’re interested in that?†He asked with a smile. He looked around for his copy of Double Indemnity, and went to grab it. “Sure, we could watch a film if you’d like. Have you ever seen a film before?†He wondered. He did not spend much time with his television set, and had often considered letting it go—but the room would look so empty without it, and he knew Cole would enjoy watching as well. Though, probably not the classic films that Christian preferred.
