matter flows from place to place [closed]
Who: supercilious and lumenrelegandus
When: Current!
Where: The Foxhole (or Duncan's? Oh, yes, I'm specific.)
Format: The usual: I start with prose, don't care if it changes.
What: Betcha didn't know these guys meet weekly for drinks, didja? …Theoretically.
Warnings: Ongoing scenes may affect what's herein, but we don't want to wait. So there.
- and momentarily comes together -
Sometimes we hang logic and be grateful for mad stubbornness.
They'd try to let one another know beforehand if they couldn't show. Often as not one or both would simply fail to arrive without notice. Thus of their months of "weekly drinks" they'd only managed to actually meet and drink once or twice. In what sense, then, was it a weekly tradition? Well, they knew if they kept showing up, at some point or other they'd happen to do so simultaneously; so, keep showing up. They both understood all the reasons it mightn't (and usually didn't) pan out, but they did keep trying. Probably not many people would keep at it with such a low success rate. All the better.
Tonight, Lupin's sitting at their "usual" (theoretically) table, reading. In the midst of everything, whether he gets to share it with his friend or not, it's a moment set aside from whatever other obligations, complications, or crises consume the days.
The one time he'd given it up was while Arthur was dead. Not superstitious enough to imagine it might coax him back; and Arthur's confirmed absence had negated for Lupin the sacredness of the evening. He didn't mind sitting alone. The point was the possibility they would beat the odds this week.
In which spirit, Lupin also took the opportunity of arriving first to drink a private toast to Sirius. Oh, how he and Arthur would have… completely driven each other bonkers.
When: Current!
Where: The Foxhole (or Duncan's? Oh, yes, I'm specific.)
Format: The usual: I start with prose, don't care if it changes.
What: Betcha didn't know these guys meet weekly for drinks, didja? …Theoretically.
Warnings: Ongoing scenes may affect what's herein, but we don't want to wait. So there.
- and momentarily comes together -
Sometimes we hang logic and be grateful for mad stubbornness.
They'd try to let one another know beforehand if they couldn't show. Often as not one or both would simply fail to arrive without notice. Thus of their months of "weekly drinks" they'd only managed to actually meet and drink once or twice. In what sense, then, was it a weekly tradition? Well, they knew if they kept showing up, at some point or other they'd happen to do so simultaneously; so, keep showing up. They both understood all the reasons it mightn't (and usually didn't) pan out, but they did keep trying. Probably not many people would keep at it with such a low success rate. All the better.
Tonight, Lupin's sitting at their "usual" (theoretically) table, reading. In the midst of everything, whether he gets to share it with his friend or not, it's a moment set aside from whatever other obligations, complications, or crises consume the days.
The one time he'd given it up was while Arthur was dead. Not superstitious enough to imagine it might coax him back; and Arthur's confirmed absence had negated for Lupin the sacredness of the evening. He didn't mind sitting alone. The point was the possibility they would beat the odds this week.
In which spirit, Lupin also took the opportunity of arriving first to drink a private toast to Sirius. Oh, how he and Arthur would have… completely driven each other bonkers.