your disobedient servant, fabian prewett (disobedient) wrote in raveled, @ 2017-04-15 19:46:00 |
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There were a lot of things that Ione couldn’t live without. Coffee. Sleep. That warm feeling, when you step out of the bath, and onto a nice rug. Complaining. Waffles. Today’s luxury was waffles. She’d been thinking about them all day, and all night. Her need for waffles very rarely came at the early morning hours. Mostly because the thought of food at all, when she had today just roll out of bed, made her nauseous. Breakfast for dinner though, that’s where it was at. She had her favorite places, depending on what she was in the mood for. Some made real honest to goodness waffles, from scratch. Some made waffles with fruit on top. Some with chocolate chips. Some thinner waffles. Some thicker. Some even with ice cream. She had dragged Fabian out with her, to get the waffles this time. If he hadn’t liked waffles for some reason, that probably would have been the end of their friendship. There were some things she couldn’t abide by. Not liking waffles was one of them. “I could go for fruit waffles, but they have plain waffles. Is that all right?” she asked, after they had apparated all ready to where they were going. She didn’t do a whole lot of asking. Just demanding. In the nicest way. If he really didn’t want these kinds of waffles, she would take him somewhere else. Just as long as he made a decision in the next five seconds, before she got them a table at the diner. There were a lot of things Fabian was inclined to waffle about, but waffles weren't one of them. "Fruit waffles are delicious. Waffles without fruit are delicious. Whatever you want is fine, so long as there are waffles. And some good bacon or sausage to go with it." Fabian was well aware of what all that sugar with no meat or eggs would do to him. While he might not be serious about his taste in dinner, he was serious about keeping himself fit to apparate after he ate. “Then I know just the place.” It hadn’t taken very long to apparate safely near her favorite place to get waffles. It was a muggle establishment, and that didn’t seem to bother her. As long as they had good waffles, it didn’t make a bit of difference to her. Not to mention they probably wouldn’t be seen by anyone they knew, which made her happy. Once they were there, and at a table, she was trying to go over all of the choices, as there were many. “My grandmother wants me to stop seeing you, by the way. Just in case you’re the one who gets a howler this time, and not me.” It was late enough at night that their clothes would pass as fancy dress or costume, especially in the parts of London where the clubs were. Fabian was convinced some of their musicians stole looks from the pureblooded set as it was. He was perusing the menu, hoping he had enough Muggle money on him to pay for the meal, when Ione spoke. Fabian's head popped up and he blinked owlishly at her. "Are we seeing each other, then? Thanks to your grandmother for clarifying that point. I'm sure my mother will be thrilled." “You’re the only guy that I see more than once, so in her eyes, probably. I think it’s possible that she could be mad that we’re not seeing each other? I can hardly tell with the way she acts. I mean, I know she just likes being angry about things, but sometimes I’m pretty sure she willingly doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” Still it was better him get the howler than her. She had to put up with it in person, which was bad enough. Ione never really understood why parents always wanted to see their kids settle down. She was glad that it was one aspect of her relationship with her mother, that she didn’t have. She wondered though, if her father would have turned out to be like that. “Is it bad if I get waffles with ice cream?” "It'll make the waffles soggy," Fabian pointed out somewhat absently, but he was still preoccupied with what Ione had said before that. "So back up the broom a bit: your grandmother might be upset because we're not properly courting? How does that make any kind of sense? I'd expect her to be pressing you to get me to introduce you to Gideon. He's the one who's going to inherit everything Uncle Ignatius and Aunt Lucretia have." It was common knowledge that they were the Prewetts with the money, and the Blacks--of whom Fabian's Aunt Lucretia was one by birth--certainly knew it. And probably how much was in the vault, down to the knut, if Aunt Lucretia was any guide to the Blacks. “Not if I eat the ice cream fast enough,” she retorted. She was still thinking about whether or not it was good to have waffles, ice cream and bacon. Probably. “Well.. actually.. If you want to know the truth?” she leaned forward, as if there were some kind of grand conspiracy. “I’m not really sure that she understands that there are two of you. How long has it been since you and Gideon have even seen my grandmother? Because she can barely tell the difference between Pasque and I, and we’re two different genders. Honestly at this point, as long as I wasn’t a cat lady, she’d be the first to pay someone to date me. So I’m not their responsibility any more.” "I hadn't realised your grandmother was that far gone. I'm sorry." That Fabian and Gideon were often mistaken for each other was expected, but most people knew there were two of them. "Are they looking to get you breeding or just settled down? My mother wants both of us married. I keep telling her I'm married to my career and my piano right now and don't have time for a full-on courtship, and she keeps telling me I'll have to wed some chit just out of school when I'm forty if I'm not careful. I don't think the idea that I might not get married has occurred to her." Her shoulders shrugged a little. “She’s older and more senile and blind than you can imagine. It’s okay. She’s still got her temper and her wit, and that’s all she really needs.” And she could handle her grandmother, most of the time. It was like being under a large microscope, when she had her gaze on you, but it wasn’t all that bad, until you felt like you might be an actual ant and she’s trying to set you on fire. But whatever. “I think probably breeding? I don’t know. I’m lucky that my mother doesn’t care as much. Well at least she doesn’t get on me about it.” Ione couldn’t help but laugh. “Well saying things like full-on courtship and breeding are probably your best ways to not get a date. Good thing that piano of yours, keeps you warm at night.” Fabian snorted. "Staying warm and in company at night has nothing to do with marriage and you know it. There are plenty of women who want company that aren't looking for a ring and a big house out of it. And that's not even getting into slumming it with women your mum and dad won't let you marry." He paused there because their coffee had arrived and the waitress was there to take their order. Once they'd settled on their breakfast orders--his a hearty meal of eggs and bacon with waffles on the side--he waited until she was gone to continue. "I mean, look, I know I sound cynical but I've done enough marriage contracts to know what kind of thing you go through. I don't blame the families in the sense that they're looking out for their sons and daughters, obviously, but it's not like marriage is about two people finding each other and falling madly in love. Not in the society we run in. It's about money and politics and extending the family name and getting closer to the right people. You are, and I'm not, and I may not like it, but there it is. You're a Black, more or less, and my sister is married to a blood traitor and I won't cut her off. And that stands against me. And it's not like the Prewett vault is that big or that I stand to inherit it. Uncle Ignatius will settle some money on me, and so will Dad, but it's not the same as inheriting what you and Pasque will get. So I have to work a lot harder and if I marry someone wealthy--like you--I know there'll be all sorts of hoops to fly through, and all sorts of people saying I did it for the money, and--" he waved his hands to indicate a lot of other business along the same lines. "Gideon's got it easier in some ways, because he'll inherit. I can afford to be a fuckup. That's my role in the family and it's easier to play to it sometimes. And I like my life as it is, so I'm not anxious to give it up. Not when I have no illusions about marriage from seeing the undergirdings at work--and if you haven't done that kind of work yet, you will, and probably you'll end up cynical as I am." Wow. Ione had certainly opened up a whole can of worms, so to speak. She looked like she might have been about to say something once or twice, even though the food was being ordered, and she was sipping on her coffee. But eventually, she had to sit back and just listen to him. She wasn’t even sure what to say, once he was done. Other than the requisite, “I had no idea you were so very… opinionated about marriage. There was a lot of things to digest, that he had talked about. Certainly his way was very cynical of the whole thing. She hadn’t been on the marriage bandwagon herself, and she certainly wasn’t on the ‘let’s fall in love and live happily ever after’ wagon either, but there was something about his words that made her feel vaguely… depressed.. About the whole thing. “Merlin…” she said finally, taking another sip of her coffee. “I .. don’t really know what to say. Except that.. You say that I’m more or less a Black, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Maybe everyone tries to kiss my mother’s ass and tell her that we’re well and truly Blacks. And maybe she is. But that’s not me, or my brother.. I’ve never had anyone treat me like I was a Black. I don’t know that my father was a blood traitor, but I’ve never believed that he just suddenly up and died for whatever reason.” She had her suspicions, but no proof. Not that any of this had anything to do with marriage. “You’re definitely cynical though.. Even maybe more than me. I’m impressed.” No really, she was. “You’re right though.. Even though I wish you weren’t.” Fabian shrugged, aware he'd put a damper on ... something. "Sorry. It's just all complicated and a mess." And that wasn't even getting into the question of finding an acceptable wife who'd sympathise with his politics, which Fabian had accepted wasn't going to happen, and probably, if he were honest with himself, was a large part of his cynicism. "It's why I prefer honest friendship with women." Honest, ha. "Also it helps that technically, according to Miss Ask Adie--" a popular columnist in Witch Weekly whom Fabian was sure in his own mind was a pseudonym for some woman known to them both "--we're all only friends until our parents are negotiating." That was enough to let him smile, if a little sadly. Ione shook her head at him, “No no. It’s just.. Depressing to think about. So I’m very glad that I decided to go with the waffles and ice cream.” Truth be told, she hadn’t thought much about marriage, despite how much flack she got from grandmother, or even mother on occasion. With the way things were going, she didn’t think settling down and trying to start a family was in the cards for her. There was too much fighting, and it was only going to get worse. So yeah, when she thought about the future, she generally found herself feeling depressed about it. “You read Ask Adie? Really?” He was just full of surprises, she was finding out. “I’ll take your word for it. “ The thought of her mother negotiating anything like that made her sick to her stomach, truth be told. She paused a moment. “I’m thinking of applying to the Department of Mysteries.” Fabian was about to admit that yes, he did read Ask Adie (it was a valuable source of gossip based on the questions asked) when Ione admitted she was considering going for Unspeakable. "That's great." His smile was genuine; this was something he could be pleased about for her. "You know I think you'll do brilliantly there." She seemed pleased that he was pleased, though there was definitely worry and unease behind her eyes. “And I trust you know better than to say any of this to anyone, right?” When the waffles came, she all but stuffed ice cream into her mouth, until she got brain freeze. That was okay. It was better than the sullenness she was feeling at the moment. Fabian made the traditional turnkey gesture before his mouth to indicate his lips were sealed. That she didn't need a compulsion on him to keep him from telling her secrets. "I'll keep my fingers crossed for you. If I had any connexions in Mysteries, I'd see what I could do, but I don't know anyone." Certainly not anyone he could admit to. Ione bowed her head gratefully. She appreciated that he wouldn’t tell anyone. “I appreciate it. I’m hoping that talking to someone won’t be necessary, but if it has to be done, I think I know some people.” Though that required telling her mother, but she wasn’t planning on doing that. She wasn’t even sure she was going to tell her brother, honestly. Things were so weird with him right now. “Are you going to judge me if I put syrup on this ice cream?” "There is no judgement I can make of a witch's food choices so harsh as those she makes for herself. As long as you're not bouncing off the ceiling from the sugar the way my nephews do, eat as you please. Do it anyway, even." Fabian grinned, thinking of the way Molly's boys collapsed when they ran out of sugar-fuelled energy. "I'm just not having any. My indulgences extend to fruit or maybe chocolate chips." He was carefully not saying anything about the quality of the syrup, which if he examined too closely was likely to set off his sensibilities about Muggle-style fake food. He liked imported syrup on his breakfast food sometimes but he doubted fine maple syrup tapped from a tree was what you got at this place. "Or," he said, trying to keep a straight face as he realised how what he was going to say was about to sound, "I could give you some of my sausage." As she picked up the syrup and poured it over her waffle, she looked up at him. “I make no promises about bouncing off the walls. I think I can manage not to embarrass you completely in front of all these people.” That was okay that he didn’t want syrup, that meant there was more for her. He didn’t know what he was missing out on. Once the syrup was all over her pancakes and the ice cream, she started to eat again. This was probably some half assed American kind of syrup that didn’t have any flavor, but the waffle definitely needed it. At least the waffle was plain. Ione gave a sharp snort of amusement, and then reached over to take some of his sausage. “Don’t offer, if you didn’t mean it. Sausage is good in syrup too actually.” Fabian let her take the sausage with no demurral. He had, after all, offered. "I know there are people whose blood runs entirely on vodka. Yours runs entirely on maple syrup. And I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it." “Oh really? Anyone in particular? That sounds like a good piece of gossip,” she said before eating most of the sausage. It was pretty good, and she could tell that it wasn’t one of those that had been frozen before, so even better. “Thanks,” she murmured with her mouth full. “I think I could eat breakfast all the time. Probably not too good for you though.” This wasn’t her usual breakfast, by any means, but still. “Speaking of your brother.. Ages ago.. How is he?” "Buried under patients, as always." It was the kind of excuse Fabian gave that covered a lot of sins on Gideon's part, and his own as well. "You know how things are. I hope they bring in a larger class of trainees at Mungo's this year. They need it with the way things are going." “Yeah, it seems like I never see him, on account of how busy he is.” All of the training and helping people and fixing people. It must have been exhausting. “And how’s your waffle?” Might as well make small talk, right? "All right. Doesn't taste too--" Fabian paused to consider the word and came up with one he knew was incorrect but was close enough, perhaps, "--chimerical. You know." He waved his free hand, the one not full of a fork, by way of taking in the Muggle establishment around them. "But seriously, it's not you, it's Gideon. I'm lucky when I get to see him other than at family obligations these days." And Order obligations, which they specifically arranged to take together because they didn't see enough of each others. "Law is bad enough at keeping me busy but his life is busier than ours." She blinked a little owlishly at him. “Chimerical? No, I don’t know. Please explain to me what you mean by that.” Well of course she knew the term, but she wasn’t sure how that applied to waffles of all things. She was looking forward to his explanation. “I guess there’s no shortage on people injuring themselves. And then getting into hot water because of it. We’re all a bit busy.” She definitely didn’t envy Gideon. Being that busy would put a damper on her bohemian lifestyle. Ha. "Chimerical's not the right word." Fabian struggled to remember the one he wanted. "You know, made out of unnatural ingredients. Like the fizzy drinks that have no sugar but are sweet, with the strange bitter tang. I think the butter's real, too, not the fake kind." Ione hm’d for a moment, rubbing her lips together in thought. “You mean it tastes like it’s got too many chemicals. Over processed? That makes more sense.” Though for the most part, she liked things that had too much sugar to them. It was possible she was a bit addicted. Hence the waffle with the ice cream. “Fake butter is the worst. This is definitely the good stuff.” "Chemical, that's it." Fabian grinned, pleased that she'd remembered the word. "Why does anyone make fake butter? I can't even imagine why you'd want to do that. Lack of cows? Anyroad, yeah, food made of fake things. I like natural foods, with just a sparkle of extra." By which Fabian didn't mean chemicals. "And for sweets--" he looked at the remnants of her ice cream waffle "--there's always Fortescue's. It's hard not to like ice cream." “The same reason they make fake anything. Because they think that by changing its form, it’s going to avoid all the bad things they shouldn’t be eating. It’s atrocious. And the way they market them.. There’s this advertisement for fake butter with this really buff guy with long blond hair, like he’s in a romance novel. Has nothing to do with butter..” She said with a huff. She’d only seen Fabio once, but once was enough for her. Definite yikes. “Natural’s always better.” "If they're selling the food on the sex appeal of the bloke, it's evident what the quality of the food is." That verdict having been pronounced, Fabian slathered more (presumably) real butter on his waffle and cut another bite free to eat. |