Who: Sebastián Cavallero and Hamish Roberts What: Decidedly not working When: Sunday, 18 March 2000 Where: A pub Warnings: None
It had been a few weeks, nay, months really, since Cav was able to turn off his brain and just relax. That evening wasn't any different, though he at least managed to get out of the Pride complex and out of his flat for a few hours. Even though that meant setting himself up in a pub with his paperwork, a pint, and an order of fish and chips that he'd let go too long. He poked at some lukewarm chips, soggy with vinegar, and cleared his throat. He glanced up and around the room, seeing the place start to fill up a little, before he tucked back into his work - when was the last time he wasn't working? - and down half his pint with a few quick swallows.
Hamish had been at the bar, only there to get dinner before going back to work, when he spotted the Pride manager set up on what appeared to be a working dinner. So he grabbed his food and water and slid into the spot across from Cav. He didn't know the other man well, but that never stopped him.
"Mate," he said as he took his seat. "You're at a pub. Put the paperwork away unless you actually enjoy this nonsense."
Cav looked up, confused for a moment at the interruption, but then he sat back and grinned. "You're at a pub," he shot back, "aren't you supposed to have a pint of something that isn't water in hand?" He didn't move any of his work just yet, but he cleared enough of a space for Hamish to have room for his food and … water.
"It's a work night," Hamish replied easily. "Can't fly around pissed. At least, not while on the clock," he added with a grin.
"Who says you can't?" Cav said. He picked up his pint and took a slow sip, tipping the mug toward Hamish. "Don't you think you ought to test the broom's reflexes and agility when your senses are impaired?"
Hamish just stared at Cav for a moment. For as much impaired flying as he'd done over the years, he'd never thought to include it in testing. (That certainly wasn't Ministry mandated.) "You make a valid point," he said. "But not tonight."
Even if it was bloody tempting, he still had to get through the official list.
"So, what are you working on anyway? How to magically conjure an all new lineup when the next player quits?" He paused. "That sounded harsher than I meant, but Pride is having a season."
"If only it were that easy," Cav drawled, not missing a beat. It wasn't like he hadn't heard every iteration of that kind of comment over the last several months. He set his drink down and took a deep breath. "I don't know why I ended up with the short stick this season. Makes me wonder what I did in a previous life to deserve this sort of thing."
"What could you have done in a previous life? Definitely something worse than like cheating on exams or something, mate. Maybe you totally didn't owl someone after a first date. No, it's far worse than that. Did you smuggle dragons? Or steal potions recipes? Or I know! What's that thing that Quibbler bloke is always lookin' for? You made it up, you dirty bastard. Look at all the misery you inflicted." Hamish grinned at Cav and promptly changed his mind on having a pint, waving someone over and ordering one. No, two. Cav needed another.
Cav did need another, and he gave Hamish a thankful grin as he ordered one for him. And one for himself. "Yes, everything's my fault," he said, not as much sarcasm in his tone as he probably should be sharing. He finished his beer and flashed a tight smile. "But it was probably the bit about the dragons," he said. He winced a little when he said it, thinking of Ellie and the dragons. "It was definitely dragons."
"Damn, I wanted someone to blame about the…" What was that thing called? "Crumple-Horned Snorkack." That was it!
But Cav looked like he was having none of this teasing, and Hamish actually felt slightly bad. "Yeah, it's been a rough year. But there's always next season, right? And this one's not over yet anyway. Unless you're the Cannons, but even they could win one before it's over."
"Who knows," he said, "maybe that thing really exists and none of us are smart enough to see it." He took a moment to gather up some of his parchments now, stacking them neatly to one side of the narrow table. He picked up another chip and popped it into his mouth.
"The Cannons, at least, haven't got the drama that the Pride does. Maybe that's the concession. Be a good team, have some drama. Or, drama free and incapable of winning a match. There's the new strategy." Cav shrugged a little. He didn't touch the comment about the next season, mostly because he had no idea where he'd be next season.
Hamish considered that and shrugged. "Maybe I should stir up some drama with the Cannons then. Can't hurt, right?" He wasn't entirely sure how he would do that but he also wasn't serious. He just wanted the Cannons to win a match.
At that, Cav laughed. "What kind of drama could possibly happen with the Cannons?" He didn't mean it to be insulting, not really, it was just that the Cannons were, well, the Cannons.
Hamish raised a brow in return. "Have you seen Dragomir? Man could break hearts, I'm certain."
Cav shook his head. "If he used his good looks for something other than endorsements," he pointed out. "There's no reason for a Cannons player to have that much good luck in that area otherwise."
"What kinda endorsements does that bloke even have? Cheering up potions?" Hamish considered that for a moment and then shrugged. "I guess the Cannons already break my heart on a consistent basis, I don't need Dragomir to do the same."
"I wouldn't have pegged you for a Cannons fan, Hamish," Cav said. "Suppose it's better to know what to expect every season rather than having the ups and downs of a different team, yeah?"
"It started as a joke," Hamish admitted. "Someone asked who the hell would bet on the Cannons and then... " He gave the other man a shrug as his voice trailed off. "When I do win, it usually covers everything I've lost on them for the year, thanks to the odds being what they are."
He just wasn't sure they were gonna win this year at all.
"So is Pride your team or just where you're employed?"
Cav thought that sounded legit. Of course, he knew the Cannons had an actual dedicated fanbase, but he didn't get it. He liked rooting for the underdog as much as the next bloke, but to be that dedicated to a team that just couldn't win? No, thank you.
He shrugged. "I don't really have a team," Cav admitted. "Been around too many of them to be in full support of any but the one I work at. I guess if you're looking for where I toss my support, I'd probably say it's Barcelona's amateur team."
"I can't say I even knew Barcelona had an amateur team," Hamish replied thoughtfully, eating a chip from his basket. "Now I need to go watch them play. But I get that. I was pretty much born a Pride supporter."
He paused, considering Cav, uncertain how open the Pride manager would be. But he asked anyway, "So on a scale of one to ten, how close have you come to quitting this season, where one is you haven't and ten is you'd burn the building down on your way out?"
"They're amatuer team is better than their pro team, that's for sure. I spent a few seasons running admin for the them about a decade or so ago." Longer, really, but who was counting? Not Cav.
The question shouldn't have been a surprise but then again, it still was. "I'm not sure if I've really considered setting fire to the whole place," he ended up answering, drawing it out a bit with a shrug and a smile.
"Nice," Hamish answered. "So we're gonna go watch a match sometime, is what you're saying?" He had a habit of inviting himself along anywhere that sounded interesting and he was completely unapologetic about it.
But he laughed as Cav said he wouldn't set fire to the whole place. "Good answer, mate." That was gonna call for another beer even if Hamish hadn't finished his first. He signaled for two more all the same.
"I say no more thinking about work tonight. You deserve a break, yeah? You definitely deserve a break."
"I thought you were on the clock," Cav said, a slightly teasing edge to his tone. He liked the fact that he influenced Hamish enough to keep ordering pints. He liked more that his second pint was already almost gone. "What should I be thinking about instead?"
"Sunday's not even a work day," Hamish pointed out easily. "And I'm not sure," he added, amusement evident in his voice, "but definitely not the Cannons or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. That'll only lead to more misery."
Cav grinned across the table and picked up his drink, tipping it at Hamish. "Sounds like a good idea," he said. "Cheers."