Who: Fiona, Meaghan and Hamish What: Drinks When: 20 March 2000. After the ridiculously short Pride match Where: Some Muggle Pub near Meaghan's place Warnings: Language. Unnecessary insults toward the Chudley Cannons.
The match had been underwhelming, to say the least. Thirty-seven minutes and it was over, but that may have worked in Hamish's favour, given that she'd tensed up the moment the teams took the pitch and had yet to really unwind.
Sitting at the pub now with their first round of drinks in front of them, Hamish nudged Meaghan and said, "It's over now, yeah? You can relax."
Glancing over at Fiona he asked, "Who'd you go with? Obviously we're cooler."
Meaghan grunted and got to work on her beer. The match hadn't been underwhelming to her, and she was relieved it was cut short. Even that long had got her worked up, and totally different from someone else's match because there was no good outcome here and this wasn't supposed to be someone else's match. It left her with a restless feeling, tired without the tired, not to mention a dry mouth from the nonstop swearing.
"Obviously," she said. "Stands to reason."
“You know I’m here for Pride,” Fiona said as she took a drink of her own beer. She had been disappointed at the short match. It had been an intense 37 minutes… but that was just getting started. She’d set aside her day for this, and well had been left wanting.
Which was why she was here drinking with her school friend and her brother. And even if she was ruining whatever her brother’s plans were… she didn’t care. Fiona was going to enjoy some drinks before she went on her way. “I mean, I probably should be impartial for work, but I’m not working am I?”
Fiona wasn't ruining anything, as Hamish had no plans other than making sure Meaghan made it through the match and he had definitely been assisted by Maddie when it came to that task. He wondered if Pride was out celebrating somewhere, and thought Meaghan should be there with them but he sure as hell wasn't going to press his luck.
"You're not working," Hamish confirmed. "Neither am I." He'd already logged twenty hours on the pitch and it was only Tuesday, but he almost felt as though he was slacking and he would need to make up hours later. It was the only job in his life that Hamish actually looked forward to.
"Scrimmy looked good out there today," he mentioned, hoping he'd at least get some positive conversation about the match outta Meaghan, while wondering if his sister was picking up on just how riled up Meaghan was.
Meaghan, of course, wasn't working either. But they were ignoring that one, or trying real hard to anyway.
"Scrim always looks good," Meaghan said promptly. "She's Pride." And she went back to drinking her beer, trying not to think about where the team was or might be or what they were doing, and that she should be there at least for Scrim if no one else. Because she couldn't, and fuck doing things just 'cause folks needed you too. It hadn't stopped the bastards in charge from kicking her soon as they wanted, so what was the point of good behaviour? Only left you tired anyways.
“Here’s to not working,” Fiona said raising a glass for cheers. And yeah, Fiona didn’t really know what was going on behind the Meaghan awkwardness, but if it was personal (had Dunbar been brooding lately?) then it wasn’t any of her business. If it was work related… well Meaghan was more likely to go to Dunbar about it first then Fiona. So only her business if Dunbar or Meaghan told her.
Well it was a start? Hamish just sighed and hoped it would get into Meaghan's head that she didn't want to let her emotions get the best of her again or else she'd wind up benched which was far worse.
(He didn't think that message was getting through, based on the day thus far.)
"Cheers," he said, lacking some of his normal enthusiasm due to the black cloud sitting next to him.
Meaghan, as usual, was completely oblivious to the effect she was having on the party. She'd come here to drink, after all, more than to chat or have a grand time, and she'd be drinking even if they hadn't come along.
But since they had come along…
She finished off her beer and slammed the glass back on the table. "What I don't get," she said, "is how she could let in five goals. How hard's it to keep anything out for that long? It weren't even a hour."
Yes this was just normal post match drinking. Hamish was looking so sour about, what was that? But oh so there was the awkward turn in conversation. Fiona quickly finished off her drink and looked to Hamish. He could deal with this.
“Imma going to get another round for the table,” Fiona explained moving to get up from the table waving her empty glass. “Meaghan, Hamish, yes?”
Hamish glance up at his sister with a look as if to ask, "Are you kidding?" Because of course he wanted another beer. Turning to Meaghan, he said, "And she must have faced at least fifty shots during that time. What was going on there? Tutshill too…" It was almost as if the beaters had taken the match off but they hadn't. That had just been a bloody insane pace.
Meaghan shook her head. "Fifty easy, more from our side though 'cause ours are better. Tutshill couldn't of kept up with that much longer, 'specially not Egg, he's ancienter then Birch even. If it'd gone longer and let 'em hit stride it'd of taken off and no joke."
Somewhat distracted. That was good. Hamish glanced up at the bar where hopefully his sister would realise Meaghan definitely needed another drink. "Nah, there's no way they could have kept up. They were already showing signs of wearing down thirty minutes in. Probably were glad it was over so quickly so they could go home and take a nap," he grinned.
Hamish generally hated short matches but maybe this one needed to be.
For whatever reason, Meaghan had just assumed that a drink would be appearing before long. After all, slamming down your glass was the signal you wanted more, wasn't it?
"Birch'll be whinging about it too I reckon," she said. "That bastard whinges about everything. Like a bloody kid 'spite all his age. Surprised he could even take the pitch with so many of his injured out, thought he'd be too busy cryin' to see straight."
Hamish was smart enough to not say anything about how Meaghan had acted leading up to this match or how she felt about being benched but he definitely saw the irony there as she compared Birch to a child. Instead, he changed the subject.
"So who do you have next? Or is the first Neep match?"
"Neep," she agreed, leaning back in her seat and folding her arms. It was more than a week away. It was so much more that it was almost two weeks away, goddammit. How was she supposed to wait that long? It was sick was what it was, making her. "And then it's Cannons on 10th but who bloody cares about them," she added, waving her hand.
"I wouldn't dismiss the Cannons," Hamish said, attempting to keep a straight face in defense of his secondary team. "That's when they'll surprise you."
"It's a surprise every time they show up," Meaghan retorted.
"But a lovely surprise," Hamish answered back, flashing her a smile. What could he say, he liked the team. It was all Charlie's fault.
"Only 'cause everyone likes a win," she said. "Besides Cannons fans anyways."
"Which is why I remain mostly loyal to Portree, and only see the Cannons on the side," he offered.
“Cannons are a poor sad mistress,” Fiona said as she came back. She was holding her own beer, and showing some skill by carrying three beers over and placed them back on the table before taking her seat again.
She really didn’t get her brother’s second following of the Cannons. If Fiona was going to pick a second team, that would be the Harpies. Girl power!
Meaghan's face brightened at the sight of the beers, and she claimed hers quickly, tipping her head to Fiona in thanks to avoid a break in the conversation. "No sense even havin' a side team," she said. "Why ain't one good enough? None o' this damn split loyalties bullshit, just pick one. The right one." And she gave Hamish a Definite Look. Some choices were more obvious than others.
Hamish took his own pint and smiled at his sister, taking a long drink before he addressed Meaghan. "Orange is my favourite colour," he said easily, with the slightest trace of a smirk. "Bet you didn't know that."
For a moment Meaghan couldn't respond with anything but a look of utmost disgust. Luckily she had a beer.
“If your first team doesn’t make it into the playoffs,” Fiona said to why one wasn’t good enough. She took a drink of her beer and shrugged. “First team is the right team though,” she did admit to Meaghan. She always supported Portree, and usually they didn’t let her down.
“I am not surprised,” Fiona said about Hamish liking Orange. “And mine is purple. Also not a surprise.”
"Purple's the only colour," Meaghan said, having finished the long drink needed to get the taste of orange is my favourite colour out of her mouth (mentally). "Orange ain't even a colour."
"What do you mean it's not a colour?" Hamish replied. "Is too, and it's the best." They were arguing over utter nonsense but he still took that as a victory.
"It's not a colour, it's a eyesore," Meaghan said triumphantly.
“Gold is better than orange too,” Fiona threw that in there too and grinned as she was amused about Meaghan and Hamish arguing over colours. And more drinks for Fiona too.
Hamish shot Fiona a glance and asked "Et tu Brute?" Then grinned, looking rather pleased with himself. "Oh yeah, Pye taught me about Julius Caesar." As if that was at all relevant to this conversation other than he felt betrayed by his own sister.
“I’m impressed you know what it means,” Fiona said. She was actually an avid Shakespeare fan thank you.
Looking back at Meaghan he said, "I happen to look good in orange."
Meaghan rolled her eyes. "That's just your face, that don't make it a good colour," she scoffed.
Fiona nearly snorted into her drink at that scoff from Meaghan. Honestly, could Hamish ever win an argument against Meaghan? Nope. “Orange is a warning colour to stay away.”
"Brutal," Hamish pouted. But then he nudged Meaghan with his elbow. "So you're saying my face looks good?"
"It's okay," she said with a shrug, unconcerned with anything but her beer.
Fiona rolled her eyes. She wasn’t here for Hamish flirty jokes. Drinking? Yes.
“Your face has nothing to do with our favourite team.”
"The Cannons?" Hamish asked innocently, before taking a long drink.
"Ugh," Meaghan said, making a face. She drowned it in the dregs of her drink, then pushed the empty glass away like it made her ill to think about. "For that, you're gettin' me another."
"Sure," Hamish said easily, then looking at Fiona who had finished half of her beer. "You?" he asked, getting up from the table.
“Yes please thank you kindly baby brother. I’ll be done this by the time you’re back,” Fiona said taking another drink. And then waved him off like the older sister she was.
“So, how things been? I haven’t been exactly… present a lot lately. I think I’ve been catching up on all of my none drinking for all the times I haven’t been going out lately.” Yes mostly small talk to cover up the real question of was Meaghan doing okay...
"Sounds better then the none drinking," Meaghan said, snorting. "Don't tell me Dungface's rubbed off on you with his workin' alla time bullshit. Hardly ever even makes it to the matches, sounds like." Although Fiona was obviously doing okay there, so she was a step or two up on him.
Fiona smirked and shook her head at the mention of Dunbar. “No, I was a worse workaholic in New York. QUABBLE is pretty subdued compared to that,” she explained. Still a lot to do though. A lot of little things. In a cramped office above a joke shop. “I went into work on Saturday after the engagement party so I could take today off,” she explained. “No St. Patrick’s day fun for me.”
"All Patty's fun for me," Meaghan remarked. "Missed the engagement." She shrugged a bit uncomfortably. It was probably better like that, how things were with the team. Who'd have even wanted her?
Anyways, celebrating getting married was weird and drinking with mates was better. Least she knew they liked her. "Had a grand Pat's though," she said, grinning. "You see the photos? You missed out."
“Oh yeah, I went to that,” Fiona said and just realized that she hadn’t seen Meaghan there. Which seemed again to hint more that something was obviously off. Which Fiona realized, but again didn’t think she should ask.
“Yes I saw the photos,” Fiona laughed when Meaghan mentioned it. “You got right up with the Irish boys,” she grinned. “Looked like you had fun. Definitely jealous.”
"There were girls there too," Meaghan said with a shrug and then a smirking. "But none with a arse like Quigley's." Between him and Lucky in jeans she'd hardly known where to look, so spoiled for choice.
That had really been a good day, all told. Unexpected and good, and away from all the bullshit. "Lynch ain't bad neither, but Quigley. Phew."
Hamish glanced back at the table from the bar, shaking his head. He hadn't really had plans for after the match, since he'd expected the match to last much longer. But Meaghan had made it through and now things were almost normal, even if both her and Fiona seemed far too eager to insult his Cannons.
Whatever it took, he figured, as his pints came up and he collected them to take back to the table. The day could have gone a lot worse.