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Tweak says, "What happened to the fidler?"

Noah is his own pet dragon. (bullintheshop) wrote in wished,
@ 2010-09-24 16:35:00

Entry tags:

harold dingle, padraig montague

Who: Harold Dingle and Padraig Montague
When: September 24th, evening
Where: Ministry of Magic
What: Padraig is ready to clock out for the weekend.
Rating: TBD, will change as necessary.
Status: Closed/Incomplete.

Padraig had a pretty good week all things considered. Even the mound of paperwork he had gotten through today didn't really bother him that much. He loved this time of year, and there were a few trees in his backyard were starting to vaguely turn, which usually put the man in a good mood. It just smelled like fall. Which unfortunately, usually meant that Paddy got sort of restless knowing that in a few short months he'd be pretty much confined to indoor activities again.

He rolled his chair back and stood up stretching looking over at the clock, almost time to punch out, so to speak, and head on out for the weekend. He had absolutely no plans, but that's the way he wanted it right now. His life was totally uncomplicated, and he was thankful for it and wanted it to stay this way as long as possible. He knew it wouldn't. He knew that at some point this weekend his mother would send him another request to look into his brother's case. And Padraig would blatantly tell her, no, he wouldn't, and once again remind her that he wasn't welcome at home anymore, so why bother doing something for the people that he no longer really considered to be family?

Which brought him to why he was walking over to Harold's desk. Paddy slid himself in a chair across from Harold's desk and stretched out his legs and crossed one over the other, looking totally relaxed. Over the last few years Harold had pretty much become Paddy's new family. And he was okay with it. He liked having a brother like figure in his life again. Plus, Harold was just a riot to hang out with. They were just best friends like that.

"Pizza or fish and chips tonight?" Paddy asked after a moment of silent contemplation. By now it had just become a normal way for Paddy to ask if Harold had any plans for the weekend. He didn't need a lot of words, so Padraig didn't use them.

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bullintheshop
2010-09-27 04:20 pm UTC (link)

"Horrid." Paddy said finally letting a small chuckle into his voice. Instead of making a "so special you use the short broom" joke, Padraig decided to pass on it. He wasn't sure why, maybe because it was too easy to make. Plus, he was pretty sure he had reached his short broom quota for the month anyhow. He'd gotten on a roll last week, and even though he had a few people laughing (which was saying something since Padraig's normally dry sense of humor normally left people wondering if he was being serious or not), he was sure that it was time to lay off of them for the time being. "You know I think we had an entire meeting about you being the special case and how we all had to be 'sensitive' to your 'condition' last week." he replied smirking. Okay, it was only a joke. But truth be told, he hated that sort of crap. When he had come back to finish training after the War was over, the worst part was the looks that he got when people realized that his left hand didn't work the way it was supposed to. Sure, he could still use it properly, but the fact that he basically had no feeling in it, and a long thin scar showing what a jackass of a brother he had. Every time he thought about giving into his mother's please, one good look at his hand just sent Paddy right back to thinking that Liam could rot there for the rest of his life.

Padraig finally let out the smile he'd been holding back when Harold called him a oaf-ish git. He rolled back his shoulders feeling more relaxed already. Something about being friends with Harold, the other man was always able to make him feel relaxed, like he didn't need to be perfect and he could just be himself. Something he found very rare in his life, and he was very thankful for it. "And if our employers complain about a measly ten minutes, I'll give them the usual bit that you were helping me because I'm feeling rather oaf-ish today."

Padraig crossed his arms over his chest at Harold's words and started to move away from the mans desk and over the lifts. "Well, if it's better than the Queen's than who are we to deny such a tasty pizza to go uneaten?" when the lift arrived he pushed the correct button and they were on their way to freedom, beer, and pizza. "I'm feckin' starvin'. How about we go back to the place just around the corner, yeah? Last I check they had some pretty decent pricing on decently sized pints." he scrunched up his face a bit trying to remember the name, but it just wasn't coming to him right now. A clear sign that it was time to relax.

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