InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Play with me!"

“Alright. First rule for the rest of the night. We do not talk about that match,” Hamish stated, attempting to leave zero room for dissent as they situated themselves around a small table at the pub. “Otherwise my mood will turn sour really, really quickly.”

Unusually grumpy, it wasn’t anything that a few pints and a change of conversation wouldn’t fix. “Bloody Cannons.”

“Thought we weren’t talking about that,” Monte said with a grin, tipping his newly arrived drink toward Hamish. “Cheers to nothing whatsoever, then! Without bringing up the thing that won’t be discussed, how much are you out?” He turned to Oliver and rolled his eyes. “Who makes a wager for the Cannons? Honestly.”

"Hamish does," Oliver said with a laugh, reaching reaching for his pint and taking a long drink. After such a hectic week, it was nice to have some time with mates, and even nicer considering the way the match had gone. Not that it had been a surprise to anyone, probably even Hamish. "Though probably better to say Hamish drinks every time we mention the game. That way the more we say, the drunkenness starts to cancel out the mood."

"Oh, you know. Only a week's worth of my salary. Not anything I haven't gambled away before. And ice cream for Charlie and Gina but in their case I don't mind losing. Though if the Cannons could suck less I could have Charlie catch me up on all my work paperwork and that would've been bloody brilliant."

Hamish had just admitted that he would have pawned Ministry work off on a friend with zero hesitation, and didn't seem the slightest bit concerned with that. Oliver wouldn't be surprised, but Monte didn't know him as well yet.

Monte was all set to be enchanted by the idea of ice cream bets, but instead wound up staring at Hamish in utter disbelief. “You… bet your Ministry paperwork on the Cannons game? Wouldn’t your supervisor know?”

"Probably be more likely to know when he stopped getting help with it," Oliver said with a snort. "You'd think after this last week, you'd at least consider putting money on Puddlemere, yeah?" He elbowed Monte with a broad grin.

“Our Ministry galleons at work,” Monte said, and rolled his eyes, but then he smiled over at Hamish. “Not that I wouldn’t skive off of dead boring reports either. Can’t imagine what you do with your normal work-a-day.”

He laughed at Oliver’s expression, edging away from the well-meaning elbow. “Aye, they’re definitely the team to watch from here on out.”

Hamish laughed easily at that. "My supervisor just looks to see that it's done," Hamish replied. "I promise you it's never been read. I once copied part of a Quibbler article into a form and no one's ever said anything about it. The real fun in my job is up in the air. Not in an office."

And he was certainly eager to get back in the air.

"But I usually bet odds, mate," he added to Oliver. "So that means I'm only betting on you sometimes." He gave an apologetic shrug then took a long drink. "And I've cut back recently. I lost that leather jacket and I'm still sorta upset about it."

"Can't disagree with that," Oliver said, raising his glass in a toast to jobs in the air. He'd never much considered anything else, despite his mum's insistence that he have backup options. "Which leather jacket? Did that go to Miracle, too? Are there some sort of standards for putting things up for these matches? I think I'd be afraid to see what I'd get from you at the end."

"No, that went to the bartender at the Seer," Hamish replied. "I may have been flirting with her…" He shrugged. "I mean I bet money sometimes, like on the Cannons because it would work out so well. But that's generally rather boring. So it's usually a negotiation? At least I've not bet my broom collection recently."

Of course, that was partially because he'd yet to build it up again.

There was more staring from Monte. “You have a broom collection?” He had exactly two seconds more of awkward staring before deciding that his pint was lacking in proper attention, which was something that needed to be remedied immediately. After neatly draining half of it in one go, he set the glass down with a noisy release of breath. “That’s awesome.”

"Nah, I had a broom collection though," Hamish replied. "Kind of a benefit of testing them out, and all. But then I lost all but one in a bet. I did get two of them back after the next match, but I'll just start collecting new models now."

He wished he could say something about that, but until it was public knowledge Hamish wasn't even hinting at what he was waiting to show up at work. Instead, he glanced back at Oliver, "Anyway, I can't even guess what terms you'd want."

"I guess that depends whether I'm betting against you and Chudley, or something else. Because you can probably have whatever terms you want in that. I mean, did you just see how they were obliterated?" Oliver covered his mouth in mock surprise, trying not to laugh and failing. "I mean, did you see how terrible that unnamed team was in that match that we absolutely are not talking about?"

"You're an arse," Hamish said. "For talking about that thing we're not talking about." He gave Oliver a pointed stare and then drowned the rest of his pint, signalling for another. "But yeah, we can bet on the Cannons if you want. You're gonna be so sorry if they win though. And it's gonna happen. Any day now."

"Deal," Oliver said, holding out his hand for a shake. "They're up again on the 22nd." Against the Bats, who had performed very well so far that season. He didn't mention that, because he knew he didn't need to. "What's the bet? You in on this?" he asked, glancing toward Monte.

Monte- who may or may not have still been buzzed from their earlier (and entirely misguided) idea of turning the Cannons match into a drinking game, which had to be abandoned after an hour, since one of the rules had to take a drink whenever Chudley failed to score- had watched this exchange with increasing amounts of amusement, until he was doubled over with it. He was wiping at his eyes and struggling to catch his breath when Oliver posed his question, and it took him a bit to answer: “Depends on the stakes. If it’s nothing too crazy, sure, why not.”

Hamish shook Oliver's hand even though they'd not arranged the terms. "I have to think about this. I mean, I still have paperwork that needs to be done but it sort of needs to be done before that match. Actually it was due… some time ago," he admitted.

Monte was amusing him, though, as it had quickly become clear that his tolerance level was not on par with that of his own or Oliver's during the match. Of course, none of them would have survived if they'd kept going. But a game where they drank whenever the Cannons scored would have been even more awful. "We can make the terms agreeable. It's not galleons so everything is negotiable. I do have an extensive collection of brooms and by extensive I mean I have three left…"

A solemn look passed over Monte’s face as he considered this, and he found that the idea didn’t sit well with him. “Mate,” he said, the word heavy with meaning, “I would never take another person’s broom.”

"I would!" Oliver said with a another snort of a laugh, then finished off his beer just in time to ask for another as Hamish's arrived. "If he's stupid enough to wager them on the Cannons. I bet Hamish has some fun ones, too. Even so...I'm not sure what I'd wager that would match that. I don't really have much in the way objects that would interest people, or even that are worth much. Not ones I'd wager, anyway." He considered for a moment, then said, "What about I throw a portkey into the pot? To anywhere you like."

“Deal,” Hamish said immediately, not letting that opportunity get away from him. “And yeah,” he added to Monte, “Even with just the three that are left, they’re pretty brilliant.”

Monte chewed on his lip as he considered what he could contribute. The truth was that he didn’t have very much in the way of things that weren’t already deeply personal, or that he would never be willing to part with for something as silly as a bet against the Cannon’s winning, even if it was easy winnings. But this wasn’t he felt like drudging up here, so he shrugged and said, “I’ll think of something worthwhile to add to the pot.”

Draining his glass, he signaled for another, and then looked at his two friends. “Still wouldn’t feel right taking one of those ‘brilliant brooms’ off you for something as tragic as a lost bet against The Team That Shall Not Be Named.”

"Could always make it the rights to ride one of those brooms," Oliver said, since it was clear the idea of betting the real thing was making Monte uncomfortable—and that was not what tonight was all about. "Three brooms and three of us. That's kind of a no-loss scenario. As for the Portkey...I'll pay for the leaving, and Monte pays for the coming home. Easy enough."

Hamish shook his head and said, "Separate bets, mates." That was the quickest way he knew to avoid the conversation of having to pay for the portkey or anything along those lines tonight. Instead he considered Monte for a moment. "Doesn't have to be a thing, really. Like, if the Cannons win, and thus I win finally you have to figure out something or somewhere in the Muggle world that I've never done or been to before. Like cinema, except I've been there. That's the stakes I want. For this first bet," he added with a grin.

If there was anything Hamish really valued, other than his Goblins scarf and a few other items, it was trying something new.

At this, Monte brightened considerably. “The London Eye! Have you been yet? If you ever win, I’ll take you there.”

"The London what?" Hamish asked, considerably confused.

“The London Eye! It’s this enormous Ferris wheel on the Thames in, well, London. It just opened at the New Year- they also called it The Millennium Wheel. It’s brilliant. Even if you never win the bet, I can still take you- take both of you!” It was a little ridiculous how excited Monte was at the prospect, but it had been an absolutely fantastic evening for him, and he wanted to share it with his friends.

Oliver hid his laugh behind his beer, simultaneously relieved at Monte's enthusiasm and too many drinks in to actually worry too much about it. "Don't even know why we're both picking things anyway. I mean, it isn't as if we're going to lose our bets." He lowered his glass enough to smirk at Hamish.

"You could lose!" Hamish protested. "I mean not based on anything we saw tonight. Two bloody goals. How many shots did they even take? Can you even call it a shot when it's sent directly to the keeper? Or above the hoops? Or at the ground?"

For not wanting to talk about the match, he clearly was having a hard time doing that. But the performance they'd just witnessed had been stewing in his mind this entire time and he was frustrated. That had been brutal to watch. "I could do better as a chaser for the Cannons than anyone we saw tonight."

Normally that would have been the alcohol talking, but it was the Cannons after all.

“Sounds to me like you need to hit the nearest practice pitch and get to, well, practicing,” Monte said, and managed a solemn look for all of two seconds before breaking into a wide grin. “I can picture it too! Hamish Roberts: the Chaser Who Saved Chudley Singlehanded. Oh, wouldn’t your dad be fit to burst then, yeah? You take over Chaser, and the Cannons go on a straight run and take the bloody Cup!”

"Better yet, we should hit the nearest pitch and try out Hamish's brooms," Oliver said, downing a few large gulps of his new beer in a clear intent to hurry up and finish, at the excitement of the idea. Then again, flying always seemed like a good idea, no matter what brooms were in play. "We can give you a tryout fit for the League!"

For some reason the idea of him being able to save the Cannons was hilarious to Hamish, because even he had to admit they were too far gone for any one player to help them, especially someone who'd never played quidditch on an actual team. So he was laughing and shaking his head, but then Oliver suggested they take his brooms out to a pitch and he followed the other man's lead, downing the rest of his beer.

"Bloody hell, let's go!" he exclaimed, grinning ear to ear.

For just about the space of a neuron firing in Monte’s alcohol-soaked brain, it occurred to him that this might not be the very best idea. But then that thought was gone altogether, and he was gulping down his newly arrived refill like it was air for a drowning man, already halfway out of his seat. He dropped the glass onto the table with a loud thunk! and exclaimed, “To Hamish’s brooms!”

Hamish quickly put enough coins on the table to pay for their drinks, then turned to Oliver. “Should we meet at Exmoor or should we all go back to my place and I can introduce Monte to the Castle of Drifters?”

He then looked at Monte and added, “Where I live is sometimes rather … interesting?”

"Your place, definitely," Oliver said, tossing some coins of his own onto the table, no matter that it added up too much for how much they'd had to drink. "Cameron needs to see the way you live. You think betting on the Cannons is odd? Wait till you see this place." It was an exaggeration, but he'd had just enough alcohol that telling tall tales was appealing.

Monte peered uncertainly at Oliver and then at Hamish; he followed suit with a few coins of his own. Even if they were collectively leaving far too much behind, at least the staff would be well compensated. He debated for exactly half a second, wondering if he believed the veracity of his friends’ claims, and then threw up his hands in an elaborate shrug. “I mean, why not? Not gonna Apparate, though. Think I might be pissed right off my head. Lead on, fearless cohorts!”