Who: Mr. Pepper and Mr. Broadmoor
What: Wouldn't you like to know.
Where: A pub.
When: Recently
As far as terrible weeks went, Kendall was having the worst. Practice wasn’t bad, but he was glad it was over. He stood in the shower going over his bad week until well after everyone else had left. Rose wasn’t speaking to him, Thomas wasn’t either. Nor Felicia. Basically he had no one to talk to and he was sure his father was up to something and with the trade deadline looming so close it didn’t bode well.
When he finally pulled himself from his thoughts and got around to leaving the locker room, Kendall was surprised to find Octavius hanging around outside of the pitch. Alone. This was a terrible idea, but Rose already thought that he had spoken with Octavius so he might as well actually do what he was in trouble for. What was the worse that could happen? He didn’t even plan to talk about her. He like Octavius, and was capable of carrying on a conversation that didn’t include that topic.
“Hey, Octavius.” he said walking up to him. “If you are waiting for Charlie, you are a little late. He ducked out fifteen minutes ago. But I was just about to head out and grab a drink, you’re welcome to come along.”
Octavius was ordinarily a chipper, optimistic sort of fellow, but even he was falling prey to the terrible week. He and Rose were fighting, and he didn't want to be, but he couldn't help it if he agreed with something her friend had said. It was unfortunate that Rose was so offended and taken aback by the statements that she was no longer speaking to said friend, but he wasn't going to lie to her. It apparently didn't matter that he wasn't upset about the whole subject of her fight with Kendall (which was a whole other story), just that he agreed with it.
Well, that was fine. He'd let her stew for a few more days, because he felt like doing so as well, and then he'd find whatever way to fix or deal with the situation.
Having already tried to run Tuesday's blocks for Monday's shows, forgetting to take Gebhard outside, standing Gleny up for a meeting, and owling his Mother "happy birthday" on her mother's death anniversary, he wasn't having the best of days. Meeting Charlie for drinks was about the only highlight he could conceive for the week, so he made sure to head out early to meet his friend at his pitch.
Running into Kendall, one might have thought he'd feel some amount of annoyance, or perhaps rage, given the state of his relationship had something to do with the wizard in front of him, and he was reliably outraged. "He
what?" Octavius yelled, jaw dropping open. Certainly, he knew Charlie was no real fan of Rose—Octavius himself did everything he could to keep them apart for several reasons, but he
knew what a tough week Octavius had been having,
he'd been the one to suggest meeting after his practice, and they'd agreed to meet at eight, and it was—"Nine," Octavius murmured, swiping a hand over his eyes. He was an hour late.
Slumping his shoulders in defeat, he nodded. "Thanks. I have been having a pisser of a week, so I'd appreciate it."
“Tell me about it man.” Kendall said shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’d rather have the week Charlie was captain back than repeat this one.” This should be more awkward, social standard dictated that situations like this should be so awkward that others could feel it. Except it wasn’t at all. Kendall felt no qualms at all walking down the street to pub.
The silence between them wasn’t bad, although Kendall was sure that Rose had crossed both of their minds at some point, but he was resolved not to talk about it. While Rose may like to think that Kendall was a terrible gossip who liked to spew his theories to anyone who would listen to get her in trouble, he was not. He was perfectly capable of having a conversation with Octavius Pepper that didn’t involve her at all. “This trade deadline will probably be the end of me. I wish it would just be done with already. Then this guessing game of staying or going would end with it.” He pulled the door to the pub open, glad that it was such a short walk. “What are you drinking? First rounds on me, I owe you at least that much, you saved me from drinking alone.”
Telling him his poison, Octavius raised a hand in salute. "You," he said, "are both a gentleman and a scholar."
After they made their way to a table and Kendall signalled for their drinks, he folded his hands and gazed at them, furrowing his brow. He knew that Kendall's girlfriend had gone to Appleby over the summer break, and from Charlie's grumblings, anticipated this was a source of tension for Kendall. Octavius could hardly fault him for that; he imagined he'd feel much the same, in such a position.
"Do you want to leave?" he asked suddenly, leaning forward on his elbows. "Kenmare, I mean. Is that—are you part of the deadline?"
“No. I don’t.” Kendall answered his first question taking a long sip of his beer, which suddenly felt inadequate. A conversation like this needed shots. “As crazy as this team is, as many times as I feel like banging my head against the wall, Kenmare is home. I wouldn’t feel right playing for anyone else.”
He tore at the corners of the napkin under his glass. “As far as being a part of the deadline, I don’t know. But the closer it gets the more I get the feeling I am.” And it made him feel sick, but he wasn’t ready to admit that to Octavius. He wasn’t even sure if he could tell Thomas, were they speaking. But the only team he would find acceptable would possibly be Appleby and they didn’t need a seeker. All potential options left him miserable.
He finished his drink quickly and signalled for another. “And if I am there really isn’t much I can do about it.”
Octavius nodded, letting Kendall's words sink in. While he had to admit that in spite of his many associations to professional Quidditch teams, his true support lay with the Pride of Portree, it wasn't to say he also championed Kenmare. And he was quite attached to their current line-up, barring their captain. So, largely because of Charlie, he knew all the relevant statistics, and had to shake his head. "I can't imagine they'd trade you. Not after winning the championships last season and still remaining in the top half of the rankings."
Taking a brooding sip of his whisky, he pointed a finger at Kendall and said, "
And it's barely mid-season. If anything, other teams are trying to poach you."
Kenmare was doing well, unlike Caerphilly, who had a rocky break and beginning of season, and was straddling the mid-point in the rankings. But then he didn't know if he was allowed to feel poorly for them since he was fighting with one of their starting Chasers, who would probably find some excuse to get up in arms about his position on
that, and—Octavius heaved a sigh.
"I think you'll be fine, mate, if that's where you want to stay."
Kendall hummed over his beer. He would have loved to agree with Octavius. To say, ‘Yea, I’m sure you are right.’ But he just couldn’t get the words out. Not when he hardly believed them himself. So he settled for nodding in agreement and tearing more bits of napkin.
It made him feel better, though, that Octavius was in the opinion that it was other teams just trying to poach him. Kendall knew he was a good seeker, but to have someone who had every right to dislike, if not hate him, imply that he was good enough to be stolen away meant a lot to him. “I don’t-- it is probably nothing. I am most likely making a big deal out of nothing, I’ve been accused of that a time or two.”
He desperately wanted to change the subject now. He appreciated that Octavius was listening to him, but he was sure that this was not at all what he wanted to talk about. He didn’t tag along to listen to Kendall whine, that is for sure. “Anyways, enough about quidditch. I’m sure you already get an earful from Charlie. How are things at the station? Any new shows I should keep an ear out for?”
Truthfully, Octavius had little desire to discuss station matters, because for inexplicable reasons, being there had turned
depressing. Or perhaps that was because his naturally scatterbrained focus had worsened by tenfold over the past week and a half, and he was starting to resent the fact that he wouldn't even be able to lace his shoe properly if Mirabelle wasn't hounding him over his shoulder.
"We have some new programmes for the fall," he croaked, washing the words down with a longer pull from his glass than necessary. "Dramas, more reporting on Ministry elections, that sort of thing."
Feeling the tell-tale prickle of sweat beginning to bead along his hairline as he contemplated the not-so pleasant topic of conversation they should probably be having, Octavius set down his tumbler with a definitive clink and angled himself to better face Kendall.
"Ah, I'm sorry. It's just--this is too awkward to not--do. I just--I know, about why you're fighting with Rose, and I'm sorry that you are, and since I rather agreed with you, I don't in any way blame you for why we're fighting, if you thought I did." That sounded condescending. He didn't mean it condescendingly. "That is to say--or rather, not to say--" Octavius breathed aggravatedly out through his nose. "Nothing. You are a gentleman and a scholar of the highest rank." He sighed rather dejectedly.
There. He felt better not at all.
Kendall opened his mouth to asked what Octavius was suddenly apologizing for but quickly snapped his mouth shut when he kept speaking. “Don’t--” he tried to stop him. Make him quit talking, but just kept going. Ending with a nevermind and calling him a gentleman and a scholar, yet again. Why did he think this was even remotely a good idea. Perhaps subconsciously he hoped that Octavius would take the opportunity to yell, punch him in the face, tell him that he was wrong on so many levels. He didn’t want to be right.
“You shouldn’t agree with me.” Kendall said staring into his beer. “You should be angry with me just like Rose and Thomas are. I should have kept my opinions to myself. I just thought she should know how some of the things she does could be perceived, I didn’t mean for it to turn into this whole ordeal. I should have known it would though.” They took offence so easily. Kendall kept the last thought to himself though. It was something he was working on.
He finished his second beer and looked directly to Octavius. “I should be apologizing to you, and I am neither a gentleman nor a scholar, there are plenty of people right now who will tell you so.”
Oh, this was not what Octavius expected at all. He thought Kendall would get mad, or laugh, or shrug it off, or any number of reactions that did not include morose self-flagellation.
"That's simply not true," Octavius said weakly, bringing his hand up to flutter awkwardly about Kendall's shoulder before descending to pat nervously at it. "You spoke what you thought was the truth, and it had some unfortunate consequences, that's all. Rose and I have our own issues to sort through, evidently, this just--well, brought them to light, we'll say. As for her her and Thomas, well--" Octavius cleared his throat. "That's probably best not dwelt on any longer, but I'm sure they'll come around."
He was perspiring like a man standing on the frontlines, sweet Hera. Rather than risk tugging conspicuously at his collar, he picked up his glass with only a marginally shaky hand and clinked it against Kendall's. "What's say we speak no further on the subject, eh?"
Kendall couldn’t help but smile a bit as Octavius tipped his glass into his own. He was so tired of defending his actions to Rose and Thomas, that he hadn’t even bothered trying with Octavius. It was such a relief to have someone understand where he was coming from, what he had actually meant when he spoke to Rose. And here he got it without any explanation at all. Perhaps Octavius was better than all of them, he didn't seem to be holding any grudges.
Suddenly he didn’t care about it anymore. If Octavius could clearly see his point, then Rose and Thomas would come around eventually, and if they didn’t, well, maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world. “Right.” he said perking up a bit, signaling for another round. “You are right. Dwelling helps nothing and there are far more interesting and less morose topics of conversation.”
