Who: Max and Roger Davies. What: Brothers have lunch. Where: Restaurant in London. When: Friday 4th November, lunchtime.
Unlike many of his colleagues, Max rarely ate lunch at his desk. He worked hard from 9 til 1, and then he worked hard again from 2 til 5, and he saw no reason why he should sacrifice the hour off - to which he was entitled in the terms of his contract - to yet more work. Sometimes, he would share lunch with Siobhan when their schedules lined up, or invite his father out to lunch if a new restaurant had caught his eye. Regularly, once every couple of weeks, he ate with Roger. Unlike his outings with Maximilian Snr, Max had fallen into a habit of meeting Roger in the same restaurant - somewhere they both liked the food, and where a dark-wood booth (a table for four, really, but Max always seemed able to book it for two) allowed Max to relax despite the high likelihood that someone he knew from work would walk in at any moment.
He arrived on time, handed over his coat and was seated with a menu and a wine list before Roger got there. He didn’t expect to have to wait long, and he passed the time by looking around the restaurant for familiar faces. Though he knew no one by name, there were several people he recognised having seen before, including one elderly man who always ordered his dishes with so many substitutions and exclusions that it hardly seemed worth his time reading the menu. He was in the middle of informing his waiter that he wanted his cod ‘steamed, not roasted, with plain butter instead of this dashi nonsense and none of your runner beans, thank you very much’ when Max looked up and noticed Roger heading in his direction.
“Afternoon,” he said, with a discreet nod to the gentleman in question, “you’ve missed most of the show.” He poured water from the jug on the table into two glasses and handed Roger a menu which Max knew he’d hardly glance at. “Good morning?”
--
Roger quite liked the restaurant him and Max went to for lunch. It was a strange mix between being posh enough and yet bringing in people who weren’t. As was illustrated when upon Roger’s arrival, Max informed him he’d missed most of the crazy man’s order. “Ah, damn,” Roger said sliding into the chair across from Max. “However will I know what to order now?” He commented jokingly. Well, somewhat. Once Roger had insisted on giving the old man’s order a go, but it had been a rather underwhelming experience so since then he’d just stuck with the stuff he liked off of the menu.
Taking a sip of the water that Max poured out, Roger gave a small shrug. “As good as any morning in the Ministry ever really is?” He offered truthfully. Roger, it was no great secret, didn’t care very much for his job. This one was at least marginally less boring than the ones he’d done before, but only just. “How are you?” Roger asked glancing at the menu Max handed him, despite already knowing what he wanted to have. “Have you and Siobhan found a house yet?” Roger knew they had been looking, and did also presume that if not Max, then at least Siobhan would’ve told him if they’d found one. Still, it was polite to ask.
--
“How long have you been in this department now?” Max asked. It was hard to keep track of exactly when and how often Roger changed jobs, but it felt to Max like he might have been in this one a little longer than usual. Maybe he’d finally found something he could tolerate, even if he still didn’t like it. “Not getting bored yet?” Max was aware that boredom was not actually the reason Roger tended to move jobs so often, but between the two of them they could maintain a polite fiction.
Opening the menu, Max glanced over the inserted sheet of specials on the off chance that something appealed to him more than his usual order. “I’m well,” he said, frowning only slightly. “I was in St Mungo’s yesterday, but there’s no permanent damage as far as I can tell.” Granted, it had been less than 24 hours, but Siobhan assured him he would know by now if anything was wrong. “Do you remember Terence Higgs from school? He was wandering around the Ministry with an unprotected magical artefact.”
Max would certainly have told Roger if he’d gone so far as to make an offer on a house, which of course he hadn’t yet because Max was not the kind of rush into such a purchase. “We’ve seen some very nice places,” he said, turning from the menu to pull a couple of photographs from his briefcase, of the rooms and features he and Siobhan had particularly liked. He tapped the picture of the ‘old-fashioned’ living room that had so reminded him of Roger’s style and smiled. “This one I took just for you,” he assured Roger, pushing it towards him. “Inspiration if you want to redecorate.”
--
“Since March?” Roger offered mostly sure that he had been in the department since March. By majority, Roger averaged less than a year per job, so there was still some time yet to go before this would be the longest job he’d ever been in. “It’s not any more boring than any of my previous jobs,” Roger said with a shrug. It was true, as far as boredom levels went, this was on about an equal par with the other jobs Roger had done. But he did start the job with the expectation of it being boring, so it never came as a great deal of surprise when it did turn out to match those expectations.
Roger stopped mid-way reaching for his glass, to frown at Max when he said he’d been in St Mungo’s. “What happened?” Roger asked before Max had proceeded to explain, mentioning Terence Higgs, a name at which Roger mostly just shrugged. He didn’t, in fact, remember Terence Higgs from school. “No,” he said honestly. “But I think I fucked his sister?” Roger offered truthfully. Presumably Gemma Higgs was Terence Higgs’ sister since it wasn’t exactly the most common of surnames.
Leaning in closer, Roger looked at the picture Max showed him, giving a small laugh when he realised why Max had taken it for him. “That’s great,” Roger said, tapping his finger against the page. “Just needs more colour,” he added with a small smirk. Roger’s own house was a rather delightful (to him) cluster of different colours. What it also was, was nothing like the house him and Max had grown up in, which was rather the point.
--
Max nodded. He’d thought it had been longer than that, but then this year had gone by in a bit of a blur. It was hard, even, to remember that he’d only proposed to Siobhan in August. It felt like they’d been engaged forever - which, in a way, he supposed they had. After they’d been together a few years, Max had really stopped questioning whether he might find a woman better suited to him. “A resounding recommendation,” he noted, at Roger’s observation that this job was no worse than any of his other jobs. He did think that was probably the best they could hope for, at least within the Ministry.
Briefly, and in as little detail as he could get away with, Max explained the nature of the situation he and Higgs had found themselves in. “It’s not funny,” he said once he’d finished. He knew that it would be funny, to many. He could even have accepted Roger finding it funny if he’d been stuck to someone other than Higgs. “We played quidditch together, but I never liked him. He doesn’t seem to have improved with time.” Max shook his head. He did raise an eyebrow when Roger mentioned sleeping with Gemma. “I hope she’s the more pleasant sibling, in that case.” She probably was - it wouldn’t be difficult. “Please don’t date her,” he added, though this seemed like it was unlikely for several reasons. “No matter how nice she is, I don’t fancy Terence Higgs for a member of the family.”
The waiter arrived at their table with a fresh jug of water and briefly interrupted their conversation to take their order. After he’d left, Max carefully put the photographs back in his briefcase so that they wouldn’t be in the way when the food arrived. “Speaking of dating, did you ask Daphne about Christmas?” On the whole, Max had tended to get on tolerably well with Roger’s previous girlfriends, so he wasn’t too worried about spending a week in a chalet with Daphne. On the other hand, it was an oddly intimate situation, sharing a house with someone you’d never met, so he really would prefer to at least have dinner with her first.
--
Yes, well, Roger did suppose that as far as recommending an enjoyable job went, he was in no way a great person to ask. Maybe if he had thought of the editing he did for Daphne as a job, Roger could’ve said that that was enjoyable, but as it was, he honestly didn’t think of it as anything other than an enjoyable hobby. Rather than offering much of a response to that, Roger did his very best not to laugh at Max’s explanation of what had happened, though he did have to bit his lip when Max informed him that it was not funny. “It’s definitely funny,” Roger told him seriously. Roger did recognise that it might not feel particularly funny to Max but it definitely was.
“Gemma was very pleasant, but I’m not going to date her,” Roger assured with a laugh. It was true, Gemma had been very pleasant, sex or not, but they had also been both rather clear on what the encounter had been. Roger was sure he’d enjoy going out with her for a drink, but had no ambition to date her, especially not since, as Max pointed out, he was already dating someone. Roger rather enjoyed dating Daphne even if the admission of that was slow coming. “And you don’t like anyone, so I’m not sure that indicates very much,” Roger added truthfully. Of course, that wasn’t quite true, because Roger knew that Max liked Siobhan, and most times Roger thought that perhaps his brother even liked him. But that was also kind of where the list stopped.
With a nod, Roger smiled. “I did ask her, yes,” he confirmed. “She said she’d love to come and is happy to meet you for an inspection,” Roger told Max with a teasing smile. “But don’t worry, I’ve told her that you’re a lawyer, and she shall excuse the stick up your arse,” he assured Max.
--
Max happened to think he liked… well, not lots of people, but certainly more than just two. He liked Nina, she had been frighteningly competent at handling all the administrative business of being Heads of the school. He had liked most of the Cambridge rowers and, indeed, a few other people from the university of Cambridge that he would still consider friends. It was just that those people rarely met Roger. Without ever consciously deciding to, Max had always kept the various spheres of his life fairly separate from each other. His school friends didn’t know his university friends, and neither group new his work colleagues. Siobhan and, to a lesser degree, Roger managed to float between the groups in a way no one else really managed. “I particularly don’t like Higgs,” he said, instead of voicing any of that. “He was a bully.” It wasn’t strictly true. Max had never seen Higgs bully those in younger years, those smaller or less physically strong than himself - but Max had felt bullied by Higgs, and that was all the evidence Max needed.
With a slight frown, Max shook his head, “I don’t want to inspect her.” Honestly, that made him sound like their father. Of Maximilian Snr’s two sons, there was no use anyone denying that Max took after him more, but he didn’t want to be a carbon copy. “I just think we’ll all be more comfortable if we have dinner together before we’re thrust into sharing a chalet for a week.” He did not allow himself to wince at the crudeness of Roger’s metaphor, but he would have liked to if it wouldn’t have proved Roger’s point. “What does she do?” he asked, feeling it was only fair for him to ask, since Roger had already told Daphne his job.
--
Roger had little to offer in terms of Higgs having been a bully in school since Roger honestly had no idea who the guy was, so instead, Roger gave a small shrug. “It’s still funny,” he told Max seriously. “But I’m glad you’re no longer attached to another man,” Roger said with a grin. “It’d make the lunch a great deal different, I imagine,” he added. That seemed like a fair judgement, though Roger also suspected that his brother would not have gone into public if he had still been attached to another person.
“I am joking, Max,” Roger said seriously when his brother told him that he didn’t want to inspect Daphne. As much as there was a great deal about how Max acted that reminded Roger of their father, that didn’t actually come across in Max’s relationship with Roger, only really with strangers. That was something that Roger was very grateful for, because he already struggled with their father, he really didn’t care to have another person to constantly feel like he was disappointing.
Topping up his glass, Roger smiled almost automatically at Max’s question. “Daphne works as an editor,” he told his brother. “But she also writes,” he added. “Quite well,” Roger noted almost proudly. He was proud of Daphne’s writing, especially with how much it had improved with the comments Roger had offered. It was much more structured now and the story was clearer, the characters more thoroughly explored. Roger hoped that she’d be able to finish the book if not soon then at least at a reasonable speed. He certainly believed she could. “I think you’ll get on,” he added truthfully. Daphne, Roger was sure, could get on with majority of people.
--
Max grimaced at the idea of Higgs being at lunch with them, poking into his relationship with Roger, with their father, all to satisfy his dirty-minded curiosity. “He invited us to dinner,” he told Roger, with obvious distaste and dismay. “There was really no polite way to get out of it.” At least Siobhan would be there. Max usually felt that he could rely on Siobhan to help him navigate tricky situations, though the memory of Higgs flirting with her did give him a pang of concern. How would Siobhan handle that when she wasn’t on duty? He supposed the polite thing would be not to complain, and to be friendly back without actually crossing into flirting herself.
Conversation halted while plates and glasses were placed in front of them, and Max smoothed his napkin in his lap before reaching to test the wine he was offered. It was the same red he always offered, and it was just as good as he remembered. “A creative type, then,” Max said, with mild approval. Siobhan had also been employed in a creative field, and Max got along just fine with her. “Shall I expect furious scribbling at the chalet windows when it snows?” Max’s idea of how writers lived was based entirely in his limited knowledge of Victorian authors. He smiled, genuinely, when Roger said he thought they would get on. If Roger said it, it was probably true, which meant Max could look forward to another pleasant Christmas.
“Anything else new in your life?” he asked, cutting into his steak neatly. They’d covered work and relationships, but while those comprised most of Max’s life, he was aware that Roger was quite different. Until his falling out with Arran Wood, Roger had actually spent considerable time with friends whereas Max saw most of his a few times a year.
--
Roger was superbly proud of himself when he didn’t laugh at Max as his brother explained that he was to dine with the man he’d just called a bully. Not that Roger didn’t believe Max, but he didn’t really believe that there had been no polite way to get out of it, and frankly, Roger wasn’t too sure what would’ve been wrong with not being polite in getting out of it, if Max honestly disliked this man so much. “I’m sure you’ll have a delightful time,” Roger said instead, his tone very much implying that he was in no way sure of that at all. If anything, Roger suspected that Max would have a terrible time. Perhaps so would Siobhan if Higgs really was as terrible as Max made it sound (though, Roger had his doubts, because Max really didn’t like a great deal of many people).
The question of whether there’d be writing in windowsills whilst watching the snow made Roger laugh. “Yeah, probably,” he replied honestly. Roger hadn’t quite considered the benefits to Daphne’s writing when he’d invited her to join them, mostly thinking about the fun he was going to have teaching her to ski (or reminding her how to, as the case might be). But Max’s question did make Roger realise that there would probably be a great deal of being inspired by the coziness of the chalet and the snowiness of Switzerland. “But I doubt it’ll distract you,” Roger assured, since unlike when Daphne intentionally distracted Roger whilst writing, he didn’t think she’d undertake much writing topless whilst in Roger’s brother’s proximity.
As for anything else in Roger’s life that might’ve been new, he gave a small shrug. Having a new girlfriend, one that Roger still felt more confused about than not, was probably the most eventful thing that had happened as of late. “Arran and I made up,” Roger offered. “Sort of,” he added before frowning. “Kind of? Probably? I mean, I think we have but it’s still--” There Roger shrugged, unsure for the best description. “Awkward?” Which it was a great deal of the time, but Roger was glad that at least Arran spoke to him.
--
Deciding he’d spent more than enough time in the last 24 hours talking to, talking about and thinking about Higgs, Max let a pointed glare be his only answer to Roger’s assurance. He supposed Higgs would be polite enough to make it tolerable, but Max couldn’t imagine what the three of them would talk about. He didn’t know what Higgs’ interests were, but judged it was unlikely to be ballet, the practice of law or the study of healing.
“Distract me from what?” Max asked, smiling slightly. “Unless she sits down to write in the middle of a slope, I should be fine.” For Max, Christmas was very much about skiing, eating good food with two people he felt comfortable around and cuddling Siobhan behind the sanctuary of a closed door, safe in the knowledge that Roger wasn’t going to barge in on them unless there was a genuine emergency. “It’ll be nice to be four. We can play bridge.” Max didn’t need to look up to know what expression was on Roger’s face in response to that suggestion. “Or poker,” he amended. Max had never minded that Roger came on his own, but there were things that could be done with four that would be different, and perhaps enjoyable.
Max didn’t respond immediately to the mention of Arran’s name. He and Roger had been friends for years, but Max had never liked him. He’d made this plain, when Roger had still been at school, and Roger had made it clear he wasn’t interested in hearing Max’s opinion. Max assumed that would still hold true, so he swallowed his own objections and nodded. “It’s been, what?” he asked, “a year and a bit? I’m sure it would be awkward. You’ve been out of each other’s lives. You’ll have missed things, but it’s nothing that can’t be caught up on.”
--
Roger chuckled when Max said that unless Daphne was to interfere with the skiing, she was unlikely to distract Max. He was right, of course, because Max would doubtfully find Daphne’s sheer presence distracting, the way Roger did. And even that probably wasn’t completely true, since when Daphne came around to write, Roger got plenty of things done that weren’t her. That, too, was still somewhat surprising, but Roger did enjoy just having Daphne there. It wasn’t something he had any experience with but yet somehow it seemed to work. Roger completely held Daphne responsible for that.
At the suggestion that they could play bridge, Roger’s eyes widened almost comically before Max offered poker as an alternative. Roger didn’t think he even knew how to play bridge, much less had even the remotest interest in learning. Bridge, as far as Roger was aware, was an old ladies’ game. Yet, it also wasn’t particularly shocking that Max both knew how to play it and wanted to play it. “Poker,” Roger settled on. “We’ll do that,” he confirmed, deciding to not even bother explaining to his brother how he wasn’t, in fact, an eighty year old woman and perhaps should consider not sounding like one.
Max’s assurance that Roger and Arran most likely could return to the sort of friendship they’d had made Roger smile. He knew Max’s opinions on Arran, however incorrect, so the fact that his brother, despite his dislike of Arran, was willing to offer some sort of supportive words was almost sweet. “Thank you,” Roger offered genuinely. “On the bright side, it’ll probably be ages before you’re forced to talk to, or even see, Arran again,” he added with a smirk, sure that that was information that Max would appreciate.
“So you and Shiv set a date for the wedding yet?” Roger asked reaching for his wine glass.
--
Max did know how to play bridge. He also knew how to play poker, mostly because it had been a popular way to lose money at university. He was even quite good, though he did wonder if he’d have more trouble fooling Roger and Siobhan with his bluffing than he’d had with other people. “I’ll make sure to bring a pack of cards,” he said, making a mental note to add it to his list.
“Good,” Max agreed, smiling not so much at the fact he wouldn’t have to see Arran as at the fact that Roger didn’t mind acknowledging that Max would prefer not to. “I’ve had quite enough Woods for a month or so. I ran into Oliver at Juniper Dorney’s boyfriend’s birthday party.” Max knew Sergei’s first name, but he didn’t know if Roger would know who he was without the explanation. It hadn’t been a good few weeks when it came to meeting people he’d really rather not see. Maybe, after the dinner with Higgs, the next few weeks would be better.
Max shook his head with a slight sigh. “We need to find a venue, then we’ll be able to confirm a date.” Even in the early stages of both, it was quite stressful trying to buy a house and plan a wedding. Max wished they could have put one or the other off a little longer, but it didn’t seem possible.
--
Roger snorted when Max told him he’d had his fill of Wood-related encounters after running into Oliver. Roger was quite sure that a lot of Max’s frustrations with people were caused by him rather than other people, but it probably wasn’t what his brother would like to hear, so Roger just nodded. He also opted not to point out that whilst Roger wouldn’t consider Oliver a friend or anything, he felt the man was quite alright. The way Max’s opinion seemed to develop of people had always seemed very confusing to Roger, but he mostly just accepted that that was what his brother was like and there wasn’t anything really wrong with that. At times it was genuinely hilarious.
“Can I help?” Roger asked genuinely sure whether picking venues and dates and... stuff? Colour schemes and music? He had no idea if that was something people who weren’t the couple could help with. “I can go to cake tastings with Siobhan,” he assured with a grin. “But seriously, let me know if there’s anything I can do?” Roger thought he’d be quite happy to do at least something. He loved Siobhan and thought that Max was doing very well by marrying the woman. Roger couldn’t wait to see the adorable babies they’d make together.
--
Aside from his responsibilities as Best Man, Max honestly wasn’t sure how best to get Roger to help. The only thing Max couldn’t be involved in was picking Siobhan’s dress, and she had plenty of female friends to help with that and was unlikely to require Roger. “Honestly, asking questions about it is probably the best thing you can do,” he said. “We’ve been focusing on finding a house, so a reminder that we need to plan a wedding as well can’t hurt.” Clearly, they needed to clear a weekend to look at wedding venues. Or even just an evening to talk about what they wanted. “I’ll need to pick suits, as well, so you can come do that with me.”
Max was sure there were things he was forgetting. He assumed that once they picked a venue all sorts of things would start to fall into place. Maybe they should just hire a wedding planner, that might take some of the stress off the procedure. Putting his cutlery aside, Max looked down at his bare hands. “What are your thoughts on wedding rings for men?” he asked. It was - perhaps surprisingly - a relatively new tradition, lots of older men still didn’t wear one. Max had never worn jewellery and wasn’t sure if he was about to start. “I thought maybe a signet ring.” That way, he wouldn’t have to wear it all the time, and it would have a practical purpose. He hadn’t yet run these thoughts past Siobhan. Perhaps she’d want him to have an everyday disclaimer of his married state.
--
“Questions,” Roger started with a nod. “I can definitely do,” he assured. It was easy enough to remember to ask how the planning was going, it wasn’t exactly a hardship. “And suit picking,” he added with another nod. If anything, Roger thought that might be quite nice. It wasn’t exactly like him and Max went shopping together, but it’d perhaps be a nice change for their usual habit of just eating together. That and it’d allow Roger to ensure that Max didn’t look like he was about to do a business deal rather than get married to the woman he loved (no matter how much technically weddings were business deals).
Roger’s eyes widened when Max suggested a signet ring, almost as comically as they had when Max had suggested they play bridge. “No,” Roger said with a shake of his head. “I’m not letting you get a signet ring instead of a wedding ring,” Roger told his brother seriously. There was the general sort of distaste Roger had for signet rings, but he also truly did not believe that they did much not to make one’s marriage look like anything but a business deal. “What’s wrong with a simple, golden band?” He asked with a small frown. “Or silver. Platinum. Whatever. But not--” Roger shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure how to explain it.
--
Sometimes, Max was surprised by how different he and Roger were. For him, there was something sentimental and romantic in the idea of a signet ring, of being able to impress their family seal into wax to close private documents or messages. He doubted he’d truly use it more than once or twice for novelty value, but it would be a nice thing to have. The expression on Roger’s face made it clear he didn’t agree. “Nothing’s wrong with a gold band,” Max said. “I don’t know how I feel about wearing one every day.” Maybe he should go and try a ring on, just to see whether it was as odd a sensation as he was imagining. “Wearing anything every day,” he clarified. “Unless I can get a wedding tie pin?” He gestured at the discreetly ornamental version he was currently wearing. That he was used to, and didn’t feel physically more than twice a day when he put it on or took it off.
“What’s wrong with a signet ring?” he asked, genuinely interested in Roger’s take on it. He’d been concerned Siobhan might object, but hadn’t seriously expected Roger to. He’d like to understand why, if Roger could explain.
--
“You’d get used to a wedding ring,” Roger assured. Of course, he couldn’t necessarily promise that that was true but frankly, loads of people wore wedding rings so evidently it wasn’t something that was terribly hard to get used to. “What do you mean you don’t know how you’d feel about wearing one every day?” Roger frowned. “Like emotionally?” He asked almost as if the word was somehow disgusting. Though, truth be told, if Max’s concern over wearing a wedding ring every day was emotional, Roger had no idea how he could possibly be helpful. Apart from maybe questioning why Max was getting married if that was the case.
At the question, Roger shrugged. “It’s just very--” there Roger waved his hand around quite unhelpfully, before giving a small sigh. “A signet ring’s quite business like, isn’t it?” Roger asked. “I mean, it’s not the most romantic of things, that,” he explained making a face. Roger hardly would claim to know a great deal about romance, far from it, but a signet ring didn’t seem very representative of a loving relationship to him.
--
“Of course not emotionally,” Max said. He had no qualms about marrying Siobhan - she was his best friend, and he’d be devastated if he lost her. “Physically. Men don’t wear jewellery, and then the current trend is that they’re expected to put on a ring one day and wear it for the rest of their lives.” He paused, searching for a word. “It’s just odd.” Women, at least, were used to wearing rings, or used to the possibility of wearing rings. Maybe he would get used to it, if it came to that. Clearly, it was something he needed to raise with Siobhan.
Max didn’t see signet rings as particularly businesslike, so he shrugged and finished his wine. “I think there’s something romantic about the idea,” he said. “Old-fashioned and traditional and all that. Having a symbol of a new family to use.” Or at least, a new variation of the Davies family, because Max certainly didn’t consider his marriage as leaving behind his family name or family duties. He shrugged. “If you don’t think it’s appropriate, I won’t.” He might still get a signet ring for himself, and he might not wear a wedding ring, but he would at least not use a signet ring as a wedding ring.
--
Roger wasn’t actually sure if he felt like he could do more with the statement that men didn’t wear jewellery than he could if Max had said it was an emotional thing. “But wouldn’t you want people to know you’re married?” Roger asked deciding that that was an easier choice. Personally, not that Roger particularly had considered marriage, ever, but he did think that if he was to get married, he’d want people to, well, know. A wedding ring seemed like the quickest option.
“Old-fashioned and traditional,” Roger repeated before giving a small shake of his head. Of course Max thought that those were good things. Roger understood why his brother thought so, but it didn’t make Roger feel anymore like they were. “I don’t think it’s appropriate,” Roger settled on in the end. Presumably, which Roger wouldn’t actually recommend anyone to value his opinion, Max would. And really, if that meant that he wouldn’t get a signet ring as a wedding ring, Roger felt he’d done his job as a responsible brother and a best man.
--
Though he’d taken into account that Siobhan might want people to know he was married, Max hadn’t considered whether he would have any particular feelings on the matter himself. “I don’t not want them to know,” he said honestly. His hesitation about a wedding ring was in no way a desire to deceive people into believing he was still single - but he also didn’t really think Roger would believe that it was. Max had never been a man to chase after lots of women. Siobhan was far too important. “Most people already know I’m with Siobhan.” And wedding ring or not, any new people Max met were sure to find out quickly enough.
If Max had been fully decided one way or the other, he wouldn’t have asked Roger’s opinion. Since he had, of course he was going to listen to it. “Alright,” he agreed. “I won’t invite you ring shopping, then. I’m sure one plain metal band is very like another.” And if he was going to have a traditional wedding ring, Max wanted the plainest band possible - though of good quality, of course.
--
Roger could help but give a small sigh when Max said that most people already knew he was with Siobhan. That wasn’t quite the point, but Roger wasn’t convinced that even if he could be very eloquent at expressing what he meant that his brother would understand anyway. “I guess,” Roger decided on saying. “I would want people to see my wedding ring and know I’m married. It seems, to me, like that’d be a nice thing,” Roger explained, but all of it was really quite hypothetical for him since Roger did not intend to ever get married. “I don’t think that’s necessarily how everyone thinks,” he concluded truthfully. “Either way, what I do know is that you’re not having a signet ring for a wedding ring,” Roger added seriously.
“I still get to come suit shopping, though, right?” Roger asked when Max informed him Roger would be of no use to him when picking a ring if Max was to just pick a plain ring. It probably would be more boring that shopping for a suit anyway.
--
Max shrugged. If it was important to Siobhan that he wear a wedding ring, he would do so. If not, he still had a decision to make. Either way, it wasn’t terribly important to him that he wear one, at least not at this stage. “Of course,” Max agreed, when Roger inquired about suit shopping. “You can come ring shopping if you want,” he amended. He hadn’t meant to imply that Roger couldn’t, only that he didn’t expect it to be an activity which really required two people. “I’ll let you know when I’m going.” That way Roger could decide for himself whether he was free or whether something more important than ring shopping had come up.
“How’s your food?” Max asked, smiling because Roger had ordered what he always ordered and Max assumed that if something was wrong with it he would have heard by now.