Who: Megan Jones, Padrig Cadwallader When: Saturday Late Afternoon, Early evening What: Pig decides to drown his sorrows with a friend. Where: Megan's flat Status: Private/Complete Warnings/Rating: PG-13
Pig had taken Megan up on her offer, which was probably the wise thing to do. He did not trust himself to be alone, either to drink himself into oblivion or to go to where he knew they were having the reception and literally obliterate the place. Far safer this way.
Fish, Chips, Beer, A Couple of Shots of the Fire Whiskey he'd brought with him. They were also watching some old weird eighties science fiction movie on the telly he'd seen before, the one with Kurt Russell and the eye patch, and it was appropriate, he thought. And Megan was here, which was... a bit like being home with her soft Welsh accent and her familiar presence. Lately she and Cecily were the only things keeping him from going completely mad, and he was glad for that, at least. It showed he'd come some distance at least.
He was still so angry inside, but he hadn't shown it, been keeping it in because he was afraid if it started coming out he might scare the shit out of Meg and he didn't want to seem fucking nuts. He didn't want to scare her.
So he tucked himself further in on her couch and reached for another chip. They were growing colder but were still greasy and good.
"Honestly, if they would have done that to us they would have been screwed. Obviously Muggles know nothing about Prison security." He thought that might be the closest he'd ever come to talking about Azkaban with his friends. Funny that.