mariawarrington (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} mariawarrington) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} 20somethings,@ 2022-04-23 13:23:00 |
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| Entry tags: | c: kieran doyle, c: maria warrington, d: 2028 04, ~ complete, Ω: rp |
Post: getting out of the office
Who: Maria, Kieran
What: Springtime outings
When: Friday 04/22/28; early afternoon [backdated]
Where: The Leaky Cauldron
Warnings: Language and nihilism.
Completion Status: Complete
Maria had been volunteering at Belby for a couple of months now. She still didn’t quite know why. Then again, it got her out of bed most days, which her father felt was an improvement for her life. She didn’t think her life needed improving, but she knew she needed to keep him happy, so... Whatever.
One (maybe the only) highlight of her days at the office — wax sealing hundreds of envelopes for the owl post, filing, making fundraising phone calls and pretending to be cheerful, not the mention her continued group meetings — was the opportunity it afforded her to annoy the living shite out of one Kieran N. Doyle. She still wasn’t quite sure what he did for the organization, despite knowing his title and seeing him at his desk (and sometimes in group) all the time. But whatever. What she did know was she was getting better at getting under his skin and there was something that positively delighted her about it. She’d even gotten him to chuckle a few times. Even better than making him laugh was making him blush or run his hand through his already-unruly hair in discomfort. It was just too fun. She wasn’t flirting or anything, despite how a fellow volunteer - Agnes, who helped with fundraising drives, a batty Werewolf of 88-years-old - had cracked a joke about the ‘cute young couple’ as a small smattering of group talk members had sat around chatting after a session one day. Maria laughed at the witch, and Kieran did his usual confused/uncomfortable sort of mannerisms and the conversation moved on.
Maria wasn’t Kieran’s type - as in, she wasn’t a wizard - and so she definitely wasn’t flirting. Not that she would even if he was into witches! She wasn’t entirely sure she was over Albie, after all, and Kieran was... Old. And weird. And awkward. And, okay, totally gorgeous in a ‘doesn’t even know it’ sort of way... And he understood her in a way that she was pretty sure she’d never had anyone understand her. Her condition. Her relationship with her father. Her inner-conflict and confusion. She hadn’t told him about her... Spiral, not in detail anyway, but she even felt like he’d understand that, even if he didn’t condone it.
Okay. So she kind of liked him. But not like that because that would be so dumb of her.
And so it was that today she had waltzed up to his desk and announced that she was heading out for the day and that he should take an afternoon off. For once. One measly afternoon. She may have deployed puppy dog eyes, pun not intended.
It wasn’t long after they found themselves at The Leaky Cauldron for a late lunch, Maria insisting it was her treat as a business expense to take a colleague out for a meal. They were seated at a dark corner booth, each on their own side of the table. She ordered herself a greyhound and waited for Kieran to order whatever he’d like before picking up the conversation.
“So, how’s it feel to be playing hooky? For real have you ever taken a vacation? Even a long weekend? A staycation?” To her, it didn’t seem he had.
“I feel like I should be at work.” Kieran watched Maria stick her tongue out at him. “It’s difficult to think about vacations when you have to coordinate for each full moon.” He’d managed to make up a monthly calendar and schedule extra help for the days leading up to the full before Maria told him that he was taking a half day.
Kieran couldn’t particularly tell what Maria’s drink was outside of a fruit filled cocktail. “I’ll have a Gin & Juice.” He smiled at their server. “What’s a staycation?”
When he mentioned scheduling around the Full Moon, Maria couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “The office is closed during the full moon. Every month. You know that. No one needs your services during that time. Sooooo...” she added, drawing out the word, “You could just schedule a vacation that doesn’t fall during the Moon and they can survive without you for like, a day. Or two. Or even a week. Like normal people take.” Not that she knew much about what normal people with normal jobs did, but it seemed like the thing most people did.
Seemed like a server got a smile a lot easier than she did, she thought with an internal little grump. “It’s when you like, take time off and just lay around. Or get projects done at home. Or do touristy stuff in your own city.” She shrugged, she’d seen people do it on Winsta. Then again, like her whole life was a staycation, technically, so she guessed maybe she shouldn’t lecture him on it. “I didn’t think you’d drink gin,” she said abruptly, the thought having just popped into her head.
She thought maybe he’d abstain entirely, for some reason.
“It’s a day off.” His voice was plain and without intonation. “And there’s company.” He lifted his glass to her before taking a sip, the acidity of the juice brightened by the almost pine sting of the gin.
He tried to picture himself sitting in his flat thinking of what he would do. If she saw his flat it would look like a mess. Papers strewn about his second bedroom converted to an office and a kitchen with only the bare essentials. “My flat isn’t exactly a staycation flat.” He felt his cheeks get warm. That’s got to be the gin. “Touristy things I might be able to do.”
Oh goodness, had she offended him or something? One thing she’d liked about spending time with him was that she could be... Well, she was kind of an awful person. And (so far) he hadn’t judged her about that. She liked that he didn’t judge her - everyone else certainly did. It was why, when she’d been spiraling, she’d disappeared into anonymous muggle clubs and seedy house parties where no one had names (hell, most of them probably didn’t remember it if they did have one): no one judged. She could be as much of a mess as she wanted or needed and she didn’t have to care about it, and she knew no one else there did either.
With Keiran, she didn’t need seedy house parties, drugs, or sex, and she didn’t need to forget her name - she could just be her awful self, all broken, jagged pieces, and he didn’t seem to care that she was.
She took a long drink of her cocktail, hoping this feeling of shame wouldn’t wash over her and make her cry. She hated crying, but she’d sure as hell done a lot of it over the last months.
“Um, yeah, touristy things. I don’t live in London so actually I haven’t done much of them.” She shrugged, trying to think of anything to change the topic to, knowing she’d put herself in this mess. She’d just been teasing him, though, like she always did, right? And sometimes, she thought maybe if you squinted, it might look like he was teasing her back. She liked that.
They seemed to be tiptoeing around each other recently. He watched her fidget as she took a sip of her cocktail. “You mean you haven’t done anything touristy?” He sniggered. “If you ever need a tour guide let me know. Growing up at Fawley I tended to do a lot of them over the years.”
“Sorry.” He blurted out. “I’m enjoying myself. Someone might need to remind me how to have fun. Or how to remove this stick from my arse.” He smiled while taking another sip of gin.
Her eyes widened at his vulgarity. He wasn’t a formal sort of man, but the sudden self-deprecation and curse surprised her. Then she laughed, a sudden kind of chuckle erupting from her, and she was grateful she didn’t have any gin in her mouth.
“No,” she spluttered, “I haven’t done anything. Not even the Eye.” She admitted, and then blushed a little, “You are? Enjoying yourself I mean. I don’t mean to be too... pushy.” She thought about it a moment and then added, “Well, I do. Mean to be pushy, I mean, it’s the only way I really know how to interact with people. When I try at all.” It was true, even if it wasn’t the most flattering truth.
“I would love a tour guide sometime. Thank you,” she said, softly, almost shyly. Merlin, what was with her whiplashing feelings?
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly the biggest people person. I think you’re the only person I’ve had a full conversation with in months,” she wouldn’t tell him about her spiral, she wouldn’t. He would be disgusted by her. Anyone would. If even her depraved half-brother was, gods knew what normal people would think.
A laugh bubbled up from his gut, “I am, and I’ve noticed.” He didn’t say it but he worried about her when it came to other volunteers. Even he found it easier to work when he laughed and smiled. She did that for him, made him smile and not be so self serious.
“So the first touristy thing we should do is the Eye. Maybe on a day after the full moon when we really need the break. You can just pull me out of the office again if you like.” He smirked, his teeth peeking out underneath his lips.
He had a good laugh, the thought came to her unbidden, and his laugh brought a brighter-than-usual smile to her face. “I’ll have to pull you out of the office for touristy stuff? It’ll never happen then,” she replied with a laugh of her own, though smaller than his. “You’re the tour guide, thus you’re the planner,” she added as if that was that, and then finished off her drink, waving for the server to order more. “Another round?” She asked, she wondered if she could get him drunk. She wondered what he’d be like if he was drunk. She would only let herself get day drinking drunk - there was a difference between that and drunk drunk in her book.
“After the full mood then.” His mind was already hard at work thinking of what else they could do while bouncing around muggle London. Already he’d notice that if she was going to open up he had to meet her energy. “I’ve got some other ideas if I’m to be a tour guide.”
He watched the ice clink against the side of his empty glass. “I think I could go for a whiskey this time.” He appreciated a good gin cocktail, but he could only ever do one at any given time. “I trust your judgment on which cocktail.”
“Oooooh, dealer’s choice, you say?” She looked to waitress, and thought for a quick second - alcohol was something she knew way too well for someone who’d never been a bartender. “He’ll have a Vieux Carré,” and then she looked back to him with a challenge in her eyes. It was an old, generally pricey, cocktail, and a strong one, and she wondered if he’d even heard of it.
He glanced at the waitress as she walked away unsure of what she might bring back to him. Maria hadn’t given him any reason not to trust her and as she looked back at him, he nodded.
“I’ll take your word for it, especially if you’re letting me tour you around London.” She hadn’t given him an answer to the contrary so he assumed she would be okay with it. Really that means he would have to do a bit of research. Find things that someone who’s never seen London would want to see.
“Letting you? More like insisting you do. And while you do put up with my terrible social skills, lack of grace or charm, surly attitude, shite vulgarity, and really weird need to challenge you at every turn.” All of those were things her father - or others - had said about her over the years, some recently, even. It never really bothered, coming from anyone else, but when Albie had decided she wasn’t good enough... It had bothered her. It had broken her, after a lifetime of rejection and humiliation.
The server returned with their new round and they thanked her, cheersing again. “It’s whiskey, I promise,” it just also had very old cognac in it, amongst other things.
Kieran raised the glass looking down at the amber liquid. His tastes were less refined, finding solace in a simple bourbon or scotch poured over ice. Lifting the drink to his mouth he could smell a sweetness curled around hints of spice.
“Bitter.” It was the first thing he tasted as the sip filled his mouth, he gave it a minute. There was the sweetness and floral undertones. It had to be a bit of an acquired taste.
“It’s good.” He set the drink down in front of him. “Definitely something to savor.”
She smiled at his assessment, a true smile, not a smirk like usual. He liked it. That felt good.
“Good,” she said with a small nod. “So, tell me more about you - outside of Belby and the Were sob story, we both get enough of those in Group. Multiple times a week.” She thought of Scott, and how he had died, alone, probably sad and scared, and how many stories she had heard like his since starting with the group. They were more than sad Werewolves, though. And she heard some of those stories - wins, new jobs, getting out of the gutter - though not nearly as many.
“What do you want to know?” Kieran gave her a skeptical look. There wasn’t much he could think to tell her that he hadn’t already.
His parents abandoned him, grew up an orphan and spent his time at school researching Were-rights and working with and moving up in Belby. “I’m not that interesting of a person.” He kept a modest flat for himself and his books.
“And you might need to be more specific.” He took another sip of Maria’s recommended drink.
She rolled her eyes. “Everybody is interesting, most people are also total arseholes who aren’t worth knowing, but everyone has something in their lives. Favorite book? Best concert you’ve ever seen? Love life?” She asked the last before she could think and tried not to show it on her face - that had been too far. And yes, okay, so maybe she found him adorably good looking his stupid messy hair and stupid crooked teeth and stupid dimples, and maybe she kinda liked that he was damaged and broken like her and didn’t judge her terrible smoking habit and that they shared their condition... But like. Kieran was gay. So none of that mattered.
And she was making a friend here, not fishing for a date. Ugh. She really could be the worst.
“Love life?” It must’ve been a slip, he told himself.
He took another sip of his drink mulling over whether it was an appropriate conversation. “Nonexistent.” He could trust her. She looked at him confused. “It never really happened for me. Abandonment issues.”
Somehow he thought she could understand, mental trauma at least. It’s something he had tried to explain to his friends that didn’t quite understand the Assembly’s daily workings. There was too much to contend with without worry about what was appropriate and inappropriate. All the problems were intertwined is what he found out.
“A couple of my mates tried fixing me up at school. But the Were thing was a bit of a dealbreaker.”
Maria gave him a look that said she knew exactly that particular can of worms. And then she nodded thoughtfully as he continued, “Yeah, I can see school blokes might be put off by it. I didn’t date in school either - same reason. But surely you could find like, a grown arse man who isn’t an insensative, bigoted twit, right?” She took a sip of her second round and gave him a steady look like it was the most mundane conversation ever, because honestly, it was. She hated it for him, but even she’d had minor success while dating Albie, right? He never cared about her condition, even if the relationship had its other issues. Well, its ending issues.
“Blokes?” The word stuck to him. “You’re still talking about friends, right?” His mind was slotting pieces of information quicker than his brain could process. Did Maria think he was gay? He honestly didn’t care either way. It a regular job he would be considered her superior, but it seemed a leap considering their conversations.
Maybe the romance novels? He always looked on the protagonists with envy. Perfect specimens of male masculinity unfettered by affliction.
She cocked her head, “No, I mean dating,” she laughed. “I mean, abandonment issues and the whole Were thing effects friendships, too,” she thought out loud, “But like, I’m talking about getting laid,” if anyone in the world needed to get laid, it was Kieran - he was wound up and fidgety and flighty - good sex would help all of that.
“Oh,” she thought after a moment, “Are you not... out?” She spoke the last bit quietly, hoping she hadn’t overstepped by talking about it. But he’d told her he was into men, hadn’t he? She didn’t think he’d talk so casually about his interests if he wasn’t out, right? “It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone,” she added quickly, her voice small and feeling once again like she’d fucked this whole ‘friend’ thing up. “And I don’t care, if that matters,” she didn’t want him to think she judged him for it. Who cared nowadays if someone was gay, right?
Kieran stifled the laughter bubbling up inside him. He wasn’t laughing at her. It was always so hard to explain to people how a man could be so interested in reading romance novels. “I’m not out, but it’s because I’m not gay.” He saw her shrinking back. She looked like the girl he met that first day at the office.
“Maria,” his voice was softened, the brogue more pronounced. “Have you ever looked at a girl on the street or in a magazine and wondered what your life would be without the condition? What would it be like without having to disappear for almost a week every month? That’s why I read romance novels. I’m not exactly your peak physical specimen, but the confidence of someone completely unhindered is why I read them. It’s my little escape.”
He’d hope that she understood.
She felt so confused for a moment, Kieran’s straight? Oh Merlin... She’d definitely fucked this friendship thing up. “Oh,” she said, but then he continued.
Maria listened intently now, feeling from his tone that this was a confession of sorts. She nodded when he asked about the wondering that came with their condition. She liked that he also called it that. She couldn’t quite understand how romance novels were that sort of escape for him, but she understood wanting an escape.
When he’d finished, she gave him a small smile and explained as much. “I can’t quite understand the fiction thing, but I do understand needing something like that,” after all - she had drugs and alcohol and meaningless sexual encounters. Not that she’d be as open about those things as he was with his books.
“Well, I hope you find a nice witch to help you get over your relationships issues...” she added awkwardly, blushing deep red, and then lifted her drink again in a sad little toast to the idea.
One (maybe the only) highlight of her days at the office — wax sealing hundreds of envelopes for the owl post, filing, making fundraising phone calls and pretending to be cheerful, not the mention her continued group meetings — was the opportunity it afforded her to annoy the living shite out of one Kieran N. Doyle. She still wasn’t quite sure what he did for the organization, despite knowing his title and seeing him at his desk (and sometimes in group) all the time. But whatever. What she did know was she was getting better at getting under his skin and there was something that positively delighted her about it. She’d even gotten him to chuckle a few times. Even better than making him laugh was making him blush or run his hand through his already-unruly hair in discomfort. It was just too fun. She wasn’t flirting or anything, despite how a fellow volunteer - Agnes, who helped with fundraising drives, a batty Werewolf of 88-years-old - had cracked a joke about the ‘cute young couple’ as a small smattering of group talk members had sat around chatting after a session one day. Maria laughed at the witch, and Kieran did his usual confused/uncomfortable sort of mannerisms and the conversation moved on.
Maria wasn’t Kieran’s type - as in, she wasn’t a wizard - and so she definitely wasn’t flirting. Not that she would even if he was into witches! She wasn’t entirely sure she was over Albie, after all, and Kieran was... Old. And weird. And awkward. And, okay, totally gorgeous in a ‘doesn’t even know it’ sort of way... And he understood her in a way that she was pretty sure she’d never had anyone understand her. Her condition. Her relationship with her father. Her inner-conflict and confusion. She hadn’t told him about her... Spiral, not in detail anyway, but she even felt like he’d understand that, even if he didn’t condone it.
Okay. So she kind of liked him. But not like that because that would be so dumb of her.
And so it was that today she had waltzed up to his desk and announced that she was heading out for the day and that he should take an afternoon off. For once. One measly afternoon. She may have deployed puppy dog eyes, pun not intended.
It wasn’t long after they found themselves at The Leaky Cauldron for a late lunch, Maria insisting it was her treat as a business expense to take a colleague out for a meal. They were seated at a dark corner booth, each on their own side of the table. She ordered herself a greyhound and waited for Kieran to order whatever he’d like before picking up the conversation.
“So, how’s it feel to be playing hooky? For real have you ever taken a vacation? Even a long weekend? A staycation?” To her, it didn’t seem he had.
“I feel like I should be at work.” Kieran watched Maria stick her tongue out at him. “It’s difficult to think about vacations when you have to coordinate for each full moon.” He’d managed to make up a monthly calendar and schedule extra help for the days leading up to the full before Maria told him that he was taking a half day.
Kieran couldn’t particularly tell what Maria’s drink was outside of a fruit filled cocktail. “I’ll have a Gin & Juice.” He smiled at their server. “What’s a staycation?”
When he mentioned scheduling around the Full Moon, Maria couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “The office is closed during the full moon. Every month. You know that. No one needs your services during that time. Sooooo...” she added, drawing out the word, “You could just schedule a vacation that doesn’t fall during the Moon and they can survive without you for like, a day. Or two. Or even a week. Like normal people take.” Not that she knew much about what normal people with normal jobs did, but it seemed like the thing most people did.
Seemed like a server got a smile a lot easier than she did, she thought with an internal little grump. “It’s when you like, take time off and just lay around. Or get projects done at home. Or do touristy stuff in your own city.” She shrugged, she’d seen people do it on Winsta. Then again, like her whole life was a staycation, technically, so she guessed maybe she shouldn’t lecture him on it. “I didn’t think you’d drink gin,” she said abruptly, the thought having just popped into her head.
She thought maybe he’d abstain entirely, for some reason.
“It’s a day off.” His voice was plain and without intonation. “And there’s company.” He lifted his glass to her before taking a sip, the acidity of the juice brightened by the almost pine sting of the gin.
He tried to picture himself sitting in his flat thinking of what he would do. If she saw his flat it would look like a mess. Papers strewn about his second bedroom converted to an office and a kitchen with only the bare essentials. “My flat isn’t exactly a staycation flat.” He felt his cheeks get warm. That’s got to be the gin. “Touristy things I might be able to do.”
Oh goodness, had she offended him or something? One thing she’d liked about spending time with him was that she could be... Well, she was kind of an awful person. And (so far) he hadn’t judged her about that. She liked that he didn’t judge her - everyone else certainly did. It was why, when she’d been spiraling, she’d disappeared into anonymous muggle clubs and seedy house parties where no one had names (hell, most of them probably didn’t remember it if they did have one): no one judged. She could be as much of a mess as she wanted or needed and she didn’t have to care about it, and she knew no one else there did either.
With Keiran, she didn’t need seedy house parties, drugs, or sex, and she didn’t need to forget her name - she could just be her awful self, all broken, jagged pieces, and he didn’t seem to care that she was.
She took a long drink of her cocktail, hoping this feeling of shame wouldn’t wash over her and make her cry. She hated crying, but she’d sure as hell done a lot of it over the last months.
“Um, yeah, touristy things. I don’t live in London so actually I haven’t done much of them.” She shrugged, trying to think of anything to change the topic to, knowing she’d put herself in this mess. She’d just been teasing him, though, like she always did, right? And sometimes, she thought maybe if you squinted, it might look like he was teasing her back. She liked that.
They seemed to be tiptoeing around each other recently. He watched her fidget as she took a sip of her cocktail. “You mean you haven’t done anything touristy?” He sniggered. “If you ever need a tour guide let me know. Growing up at Fawley I tended to do a lot of them over the years.”
“Sorry.” He blurted out. “I’m enjoying myself. Someone might need to remind me how to have fun. Or how to remove this stick from my arse.” He smiled while taking another sip of gin.
Her eyes widened at his vulgarity. He wasn’t a formal sort of man, but the sudden self-deprecation and curse surprised her. Then she laughed, a sudden kind of chuckle erupting from her, and she was grateful she didn’t have any gin in her mouth.
“No,” she spluttered, “I haven’t done anything. Not even the Eye.” She admitted, and then blushed a little, “You are? Enjoying yourself I mean. I don’t mean to be too... pushy.” She thought about it a moment and then added, “Well, I do. Mean to be pushy, I mean, it’s the only way I really know how to interact with people. When I try at all.” It was true, even if it wasn’t the most flattering truth.
“I would love a tour guide sometime. Thank you,” she said, softly, almost shyly. Merlin, what was with her whiplashing feelings?
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly the biggest people person. I think you’re the only person I’ve had a full conversation with in months,” she wouldn’t tell him about her spiral, she wouldn’t. He would be disgusted by her. Anyone would. If even her depraved half-brother was, gods knew what normal people would think.
A laugh bubbled up from his gut, “I am, and I’ve noticed.” He didn’t say it but he worried about her when it came to other volunteers. Even he found it easier to work when he laughed and smiled. She did that for him, made him smile and not be so self serious.
“So the first touristy thing we should do is the Eye. Maybe on a day after the full moon when we really need the break. You can just pull me out of the office again if you like.” He smirked, his teeth peeking out underneath his lips.
He had a good laugh, the thought came to her unbidden, and his laugh brought a brighter-than-usual smile to her face. “I’ll have to pull you out of the office for touristy stuff? It’ll never happen then,” she replied with a laugh of her own, though smaller than his. “You’re the tour guide, thus you’re the planner,” she added as if that was that, and then finished off her drink, waving for the server to order more. “Another round?” She asked, she wondered if she could get him drunk. She wondered what he’d be like if he was drunk. She would only let herself get day drinking drunk - there was a difference between that and drunk drunk in her book.
“After the full mood then.” His mind was already hard at work thinking of what else they could do while bouncing around muggle London. Already he’d notice that if she was going to open up he had to meet her energy. “I’ve got some other ideas if I’m to be a tour guide.”
He watched the ice clink against the side of his empty glass. “I think I could go for a whiskey this time.” He appreciated a good gin cocktail, but he could only ever do one at any given time. “I trust your judgment on which cocktail.”
“Oooooh, dealer’s choice, you say?” She looked to waitress, and thought for a quick second - alcohol was something she knew way too well for someone who’d never been a bartender. “He’ll have a Vieux Carré,” and then she looked back to him with a challenge in her eyes. It was an old, generally pricey, cocktail, and a strong one, and she wondered if he’d even heard of it.
He glanced at the waitress as she walked away unsure of what she might bring back to him. Maria hadn’t given him any reason not to trust her and as she looked back at him, he nodded.
“I’ll take your word for it, especially if you’re letting me tour you around London.” She hadn’t given him an answer to the contrary so he assumed she would be okay with it. Really that means he would have to do a bit of research. Find things that someone who’s never seen London would want to see.
“Letting you? More like insisting you do. And while you do put up with my terrible social skills, lack of grace or charm, surly attitude, shite vulgarity, and really weird need to challenge you at every turn.” All of those were things her father - or others - had said about her over the years, some recently, even. It never really bothered, coming from anyone else, but when Albie had decided she wasn’t good enough... It had bothered her. It had broken her, after a lifetime of rejection and humiliation.
The server returned with their new round and they thanked her, cheersing again. “It’s whiskey, I promise,” it just also had very old cognac in it, amongst other things.
Kieran raised the glass looking down at the amber liquid. His tastes were less refined, finding solace in a simple bourbon or scotch poured over ice. Lifting the drink to his mouth he could smell a sweetness curled around hints of spice.
“Bitter.” It was the first thing he tasted as the sip filled his mouth, he gave it a minute. There was the sweetness and floral undertones. It had to be a bit of an acquired taste.
“It’s good.” He set the drink down in front of him. “Definitely something to savor.”
She smiled at his assessment, a true smile, not a smirk like usual. He liked it. That felt good.
“Good,” she said with a small nod. “So, tell me more about you - outside of Belby and the Were sob story, we both get enough of those in Group. Multiple times a week.” She thought of Scott, and how he had died, alone, probably sad and scared, and how many stories she had heard like his since starting with the group. They were more than sad Werewolves, though. And she heard some of those stories - wins, new jobs, getting out of the gutter - though not nearly as many.
“What do you want to know?” Kieran gave her a skeptical look. There wasn’t much he could think to tell her that he hadn’t already.
His parents abandoned him, grew up an orphan and spent his time at school researching Were-rights and working with and moving up in Belby. “I’m not that interesting of a person.” He kept a modest flat for himself and his books.
“And you might need to be more specific.” He took another sip of Maria’s recommended drink.
She rolled her eyes. “Everybody is interesting, most people are also total arseholes who aren’t worth knowing, but everyone has something in their lives. Favorite book? Best concert you’ve ever seen? Love life?” She asked the last before she could think and tried not to show it on her face - that had been too far. And yes, okay, so maybe she found him adorably good looking his stupid messy hair and stupid crooked teeth and stupid dimples, and maybe she kinda liked that he was damaged and broken like her and didn’t judge her terrible smoking habit and that they shared their condition... But like. Kieran was gay. So none of that mattered.
And she was making a friend here, not fishing for a date. Ugh. She really could be the worst.
“Love life?” It must’ve been a slip, he told himself.
He took another sip of his drink mulling over whether it was an appropriate conversation. “Nonexistent.” He could trust her. She looked at him confused. “It never really happened for me. Abandonment issues.”
Somehow he thought she could understand, mental trauma at least. It’s something he had tried to explain to his friends that didn’t quite understand the Assembly’s daily workings. There was too much to contend with without worry about what was appropriate and inappropriate. All the problems were intertwined is what he found out.
“A couple of my mates tried fixing me up at school. But the Were thing was a bit of a dealbreaker.”
Maria gave him a look that said she knew exactly that particular can of worms. And then she nodded thoughtfully as he continued, “Yeah, I can see school blokes might be put off by it. I didn’t date in school either - same reason. But surely you could find like, a grown arse man who isn’t an insensative, bigoted twit, right?” She took a sip of her second round and gave him a steady look like it was the most mundane conversation ever, because honestly, it was. She hated it for him, but even she’d had minor success while dating Albie, right? He never cared about her condition, even if the relationship had its other issues. Well, its ending issues.
“Blokes?” The word stuck to him. “You’re still talking about friends, right?” His mind was slotting pieces of information quicker than his brain could process. Did Maria think he was gay? He honestly didn’t care either way. It a regular job he would be considered her superior, but it seemed a leap considering their conversations.
Maybe the romance novels? He always looked on the protagonists with envy. Perfect specimens of male masculinity unfettered by affliction.
She cocked her head, “No, I mean dating,” she laughed. “I mean, abandonment issues and the whole Were thing effects friendships, too,” she thought out loud, “But like, I’m talking about getting laid,” if anyone in the world needed to get laid, it was Kieran - he was wound up and fidgety and flighty - good sex would help all of that.
“Oh,” she thought after a moment, “Are you not... out?” She spoke the last bit quietly, hoping she hadn’t overstepped by talking about it. But he’d told her he was into men, hadn’t he? She didn’t think he’d talk so casually about his interests if he wasn’t out, right? “It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone,” she added quickly, her voice small and feeling once again like she’d fucked this whole ‘friend’ thing up. “And I don’t care, if that matters,” she didn’t want him to think she judged him for it. Who cared nowadays if someone was gay, right?
Kieran stifled the laughter bubbling up inside him. He wasn’t laughing at her. It was always so hard to explain to people how a man could be so interested in reading romance novels. “I’m not out, but it’s because I’m not gay.” He saw her shrinking back. She looked like the girl he met that first day at the office.
“Maria,” his voice was softened, the brogue more pronounced. “Have you ever looked at a girl on the street or in a magazine and wondered what your life would be without the condition? What would it be like without having to disappear for almost a week every month? That’s why I read romance novels. I’m not exactly your peak physical specimen, but the confidence of someone completely unhindered is why I read them. It’s my little escape.”
He’d hope that she understood.
She felt so confused for a moment, Kieran’s straight? Oh Merlin... She’d definitely fucked this friendship thing up. “Oh,” she said, but then he continued.
Maria listened intently now, feeling from his tone that this was a confession of sorts. She nodded when he asked about the wondering that came with their condition. She liked that he also called it that. She couldn’t quite understand how romance novels were that sort of escape for him, but she understood wanting an escape.
When he’d finished, she gave him a small smile and explained as much. “I can’t quite understand the fiction thing, but I do understand needing something like that,” after all - she had drugs and alcohol and meaningless sexual encounters. Not that she’d be as open about those things as he was with his books.
“Well, I hope you find a nice witch to help you get over your relationships issues...” she added awkwardly, blushing deep red, and then lifted her drink again in a sad little toast to the idea.