Who: Alasdair Buchanan and Papa Olivier What: Alasdair has an important discussion to have with his girlfriend's father... When: The day after the Magpies play the Harpies Where: The Buchanan-Olivier home in Dunvegan Warnings: Here be cats!
Alasdair liked his girlfriend’s parents. He really did. However, this recent visit of theirs had had him torn into pieces inside, and not because he didn’t want them to be there. For the purposes of the conversations he wanted to have, their presence was completely necessary. After all, who would dare ask for his partner’s hand in marriage through letter or while on a Floo call? Someone with a death wish, perhaps, or at the very least someone who didn’t care too much about the answer.
Alasdair DID care about the answer, however, so by the time Monsieur Olivier arrived down in the living room that morning, the younger man was seated on the couch, cat on his lap as usual - but the only giveaway that something wasn’t quite right, a nervously tapping foot, was already on the go.
Ostensibly the visit was because of some matter of Quidditch business. Not entirely false, as he did have a couple minor pieces of business to conduct. However, the predominant reason that he and his wife were here at all was to check up on their daughter (who hadn't been fooled by the reason they gave for the visit but allowed them to think she didn't know). Though somewhat less concerned by the move than his wife François Olivier had still been wary about his daughter making such a move, and one he knew to be predominantly because of the fact her boyfriend had decided to return to his home country. After all it was one thing to move in together and entirely another to move to another country, even if said country wasn't really all that far away.
No matter how accommodating he'd been François got the impression there was clearly something on the young man's mind. What it was exactly he didn't know, but after his years of coaching he was well-used to reading people quickly and now, as he entered the living room, he suspected (despite the relaxed position he had) that Alasdair was about to get to the point. "Good morning, Mr. Buchanan," he greeted cordially, sitting down opposite to Alasdair.
“Good morning, Monsieur Olivier,” Alasdair began, following their habit of speaking English while in Scotland, given that Alasdair’s family were native speakers and the Oliviers were fluent. Mog curled up in his lap as her human shifted, eyes going to his girlfriend’s father’s face. This was not yet a comfortable position in which to have the conversation, he felt, and he was hoping against hope that the older man may take pity on him.
“I take it the ladies went for their expedition, as they were saying?” Ada had mentioned the possibility of going shopping with her mother, but Alasdair rather suspected that Ada may be getting the fifth degree about how life in Scotland was really going.
"I believe they are, or at least that was the intention Adélaïde had when she suggested the trip," he replied, a brief smile played on his lips. François had suspected much the same as Alasdair that his wife had somewhat ulterior motives to agreeing to the shopping trip. Though he knew Ada could handle her mother's questioning. Meanwhile, as he settled properly into his chair, he considered conducting his own interrogation of Alasdair to see how things were going for the couple.
Normally he might've gone easy on the younger man but he was curious to see if his suspicions would be proven right, even if he didn't know exactly yet quite what it was that Alasdair might want to talk to him about. "With the ladies away for the moment it means we're without an audience," he commented in a nonchalant tone. "Which I suspect works out well for whatever it is you're wanting to ask or talk about with me."
To the point, eh? Alasdair recognised the tone in Msr Olivier’s voice, and he knew this wasn’t going to be simple. Well, he had never really thought it was going to be, given the fact he wished to talk about his future with the man’s daughter, but if the older man wanted to be the dominant figure in the conversation? Alasdair was going to let him, even if he was able to stand up for himself.
“Well, there is something I want to talk to you about, and it’s better that we’re able to talk man to man about it,” he replied, looking more relaxed than he was feeling. His eyes drifted towards the door from the kitchen, where the unnamed ginger kitten approached, stalking her way towards Msr Olivier’s legs. If it went well, then he wanted this conversation to be a surprise to Ada as well.
François arched a brow at Alasdair's reply. Well, as vague a reply as it was it certainly narrowed down the possibilities as to what Alasdair wished to talk about. Considering he hadn't heard anything bad from Ada he felt he could rather confidently guess Alasdair's predicament as it were. It was amusing to think of the comparison to when Msr Bertrand asked for Françoise's hand, or when he'd asked Msr Rousseau for permission to marry Margaret all those years ago.
"Of course," he responded, before sparing a quick glance to the ginger kitten who'd seemingly made a bee-line for his legs and started to mewl as it gazed back up at him. With a slight sigh he carefully picked the kitten up before setting it in his lap where it did a turn before laying down. "Though, of course, that will depend on what it is you wish to discuss," he added, as if he were unaware of what Alasdair was wanting to talk about.
Alasdair had a wry smile on his face as he began to answer, watching the ginger kitten roll onto her back and stretch as she took over the older man’s lap. Clearly, she thought she was helping. And judging by his face, the man he was speaking to was not in the mood for pleasantries.
“I know that Ada has been missed while in France. She’s your daughter, and you love her. But while we’ve been living together here, and we’ve had time to think about our future long term, we both know that we want to settle in Scotland.” He paused, looking the man in the eye to show his seriousness.
“I love her too,” he said simply, his voice calm. “And living together here has been almost perfect. I say almost because…” he paused, “I would like to ask her to marry me. And I know that your blessing would make her happy.”
As soon as he heard Alasdair say they'd been considering their long term future François felt even more sure as to where the conversation was leading. Though he'd long had a suspicion ever since Ada had made the decision to move. He knew his daughter wouldn't have made such a move on a whim without thinking things through. He'd been through this before with Françoise - although in that instance his eldest daughter hadn't decided to move across the Channel.
So when Alasdair confirmed it by saying he wanted to marry his daughter he couldn't hold in the sigh that escaped. Logically he knew he wouldn't really be losing his daughter but that didn't stop it from feeling that way. "Though knowing Adélaïde I'd say she'd she'd have no trouble with following her own heart, with or without my blessing," he commented with a wry smile. François knew, in the event he wouldn't give his blessing, that however upset Ada might be with him that she would stubbornly rather follow her own happiness than give in to anyone trying to tell her what to do. "I could give you a hard time by asking for time to think about it but I suspect my daughter would have more than a few words with me about that," he chuckled slightly. "I may not particularly like the fact she's decided to make a new home for herself away from her family in France but I've seen how happy she is here and with you, and, well, I've never been able to really deny her anything. So, if you truly are serious about this then the two of you have my blessing." François didn't think it needed saying what may or may not happen if he were to hear Ada wasn't happy or wasn't being treated well.
Alasdair chuckled at the older man’s comment. It was true that Ada certainly knew her own mind. “Truth be told, I half suspected myself that she would have had few qualms about discussing the possibility of marriage, regardless of what any man in her life thought. It’s one of the many things I love about her, actually.” His expression had softened slightly as he said that, his voice warm as he considered Ada’s independence and how much more special it was that she wanted to be with him, and make their home together here in Scotland.
His smile was wider as François gave his assent, and Alasdair sat up a little straighter, putting a hand to Mog’s back as she sat up and looked at him inquisitively. “Thank you. Really,” he added, knowing that despite her independence, Ada would be happier knowing that her family were pleased for her. On his future father-in-law’s lap, the ginger kitten mewled loudly, purring as she rolled about contentedly.
“I swear that cat is part kneazle,” he muttered, convinced that she was definitely trying to help her humans out.
François tried not to let the smile creep onto his face - he didn't want to let on how pleased he was that Ada had found herself someone who genuinely appreciated her independence rather find it something of an annoyance. "Well, she's always been something of a romantic," he commented. However, he had no doubt that Ada would've considered all possibilities in regards to marriage - the good, and the bad.
"You're welcome, Mr Buchanan," he responded, giving a slight nod and smiling more warmly than he had been. François couldn't help but chuckle a little when he heard the sound that escaped the ginger kitten in his lap. "She certainly seems to be trying her hardest in appearing cute and innocent," he commented.
The expression didn't go unnoticed, although Alasdair didn't mention it. “Romantic, yes, but far too smart to let it rule her head, I think,” he added, a wry look of his own on his face.
“She likes to be appreciated, much like other redheads I know,” he quipped, grinning as the small bundle of fluff peered up at them both.
Yes, this little family was about to develop rather nicely...