InsaneJournal

If it was possible to overdose on hangover potions, Angus didn't want to know about it; the three doses he'd swallowed down in the past twelve hours had him feeling nearly as good as new after almost a week of not being entirely sober. That he could still bounce back from a bender like that was proof he wasn't old yet, he reckoned.

He did feel a bit stiff as he stood on the pitch, stretching to limber up while his broom hovered patiently nearby. He wasn't exactly sure what kind of tests Florrie would want him to do, but if she thought this device would work, he was willing to fly to Portree and back to test it out. Angus twisted his head to try to examine the monitor Florrie had fixed on his head. "How does this work, now?" he inquired. "Do I have to do anything with it?"

"Nay, and the truth is most of this getup is to make sure we can keep it on your head while you fly. Once we're sure it's secure, and I'm happy with the spells on it, we'll just use the bit that's round your ear. It'll look like jewelry and you'll just be thought a bit o' a peacock on the pitch." Florrie was grinning and her accent was strong, a sure sign she was excited about the possibilities. "This is the part for me," she told him, and showed him a ring that looked like it was made of the same clear stone. "Today all we can do is see if it fits and will hang on and will let me see how you're doing, but the true test won't be today."

The true test wouldn't be until he had another fit, but Florrie had no idea when that would be, and neither did Angus. She had no desire to bring one on, either, not when she was so pleased with how the whole thing was going.

"If we need another place to sense, we'll see about getting one round your wrist, at your pulse point there. That's why the stones are all in the ear cuffs, since they're close to everything I'd take measure with by spell," she added.

Angus took her hand and turned it this way and that, inspecting the ring ostentatiously. "Weel, it does look lovely on ye," he said, smiling back at her. "Reckon we may start a new fashion trend, like Jay with his pink."

He shook his head like a dog trying to rid himself of water, making sure the bits she'd fixed on around his ears weren't going to shift around easily while he was flying. He'd never in his life worn jewelry, and the light weight and pressure of the stones on his head were a little bit distracting, but he supposed he'd get used to that. "It's balanced all right," he decided. "Reckon it willna make me list to one side while flyin'. I'm not too certain about the bracelet notion, though. Cannae have anything gettin' in the way of my hands for Quaffle work."

Florrie nodded at that last; chaser had been her position when she played at school and she could imagine the problems a cuff designed to get Angus' pulse at the wrist could cause. "Let's hope it works as well as we need with what we have. Which I think it should," Florrie added by way of reassurance. "If you think it'll stay on, then it's time for the next test: up you go."

Angus gave her a flippant salute. "Aye aye, skipper. Up and away it is."

Pushing off, he could really feel the missed training days -- as always, he regretted not keeping up his workouts when he went a few days without them, and the fact that he was still drying out didn't help. He felt slow and leaden in the air, and for once he really felt his size… and that he wasn't twenty anymore. Angus shook his head at himself and resolved to eat perfectly and do every workout in the leadup to the next match.

He set off on an easy lap around the pitch, focusing on the way the monitors affected his balance. They weren't heavy, but he wasn't used to flying with anything but goggles on his head, and turning his head felt strange; he'd get used to it in time, he supposed.

Florrie could see the difference in his form between the middle of December and now. She sighed affectionately; quidditch players were just like everyone else, overindulging at the holidays. Even she had eaten too many holiday biscuits and she didn't have professional quidditch to keep up with. Just professional quidditchers.

As Angus circled the pitch, she could feel the increase in warmth in her fancy ring: his vital signs increasing as he exerted himself a little. The colour of the crystal in her ring brightened too, to a happy rose. A good sign based on what she'd discussed with the healers and the enchanter who'd made the thing.

Angus did an experimental loop-de-loop at the opposite end of the pitch, spiralling tightly out of it, to make sure the monitor wasn't about to fall off. It didn't even feel like it shifted, which was reassuring. He couldn't tell if it was working or not, but at least the ear cuff was holding in place, and he could probably get used to its slight weight on his head.

He circled back over Florrie after another easy-paced lap to warm up, peering down at her to see whether she was satisfied so far. "How's it lookin'?" he called down at her. "Anything in particular you want me to do up here?"

"How about you try some of your regular solo routines from daily practice? Quaffle-tossing, speed-shooting, that kind of thing. I'll be down here watching and keeping an eye on this," Florrie called back up, gesturing at the ring with her other hand. "It looks good so far. I'm definitely getting a sense that you're exerting yourself a bit."

Angus chuckled at that, pulling a mock-chagrined face at Florrie as he circled around again. "Reckon you can tell I let training and diet go a bit over hols, too," he answered. "I'll get back to fighting form right quick, dinna fash. Toss me a Quaffle there and I'll give you a bit of a show."

He'd spent half his life on broomback, it sometimes felt, and after his Canadian trip had knocked him for a loop, flying felt better than ever. As he went through Quaffle drills so familiar he could've done them in his sleep, his mind steadied along with his body, his focus sharpening and his head clearing of all the gloom and discontent that had plagued him since New Year's. By the time he got through his routine and returned to hover a few feet off the ground, he was smiling, clear-eyed and confident for the moment. "What do ye reckon?" he asked. "Are we in good shape?"

"I dinna if I'd go quite that far," Florrie teased with a grin, poking a finger at Angus' midsection, "--oh, ye mean the monitor." There was a beat, after which she added, more soberly, "It's doin' as well as we can expect. I can tell when yer pushing yerself and I could tell when ye gave over into the practice. So it's na sae much telling me what you're feeling, in practice, as it is when something changes. Which means that if something changes when ye do go grey, I'll see that and be able to tell Merc."

Who would then be able to call time and let whichever of his teammates was closest get him to the ground. Last time they'd been lucky and nobody had really noticed what had happened with the injury. The next time, if there was another during the season, would be better.

"Was it secure? No chance of it falling off?"

Angus hopped off his broom, giving the Thunderbolt a fond pat. "Just shifted a wee bit when I took a fast swerve, that's all. Reckon a sticking charm would set it right. Or if ye like, ye could pierce my ear for it. I always did fancy being a pirate when I was a wean." He grinned over at her. "So it's really going to work, then? Not that I was doubtin' you, Flor."

"Piercing might be good if we can do it when there's a week or so between matches, but we'll try a sticking charm for now. But other than that, aye, it's working." Had Florrie been younger and less professional, she would have been bouncing on her toes with sheer delight. They might not know how to stop Angus from having fits but they could make it safe for him to fly, and they had. As it was, she reached for Angus' gloved hands to squeeze them, grinning stupidly.

He squeezed her fingers back, taking a deep breath to steady himself against the flood of hope that threatened to make him forget that this wasn't actually going to heal his mind, that he was still going to struggle with 'having a moment' at times. Still, it was a step forward.

"Thank you," he said, quiet and intense. "I dinna ken how to say how much I… well, just, thank you."

Florrie's voice was just as soft and intense as she squeezed his hand again, still smiling. "Yuir welcome."