Who: Chester and Cameron Scabior
Where: Cameron's Apothicary Shop
When: June 7, 1980
What: Brotherly Bonding? Ha.



“Get out.”

The words fell from Cameron’s lips even before he had fully registered what was going on. There was perhaps a more tactful way to deal with the situation, but he was finding it hard to think of it at the moment. It had been a bad morning, week even, but more importantly he had only gotten about four hours of sleep and with everything on his plate right now he could not deal with this. He absolutely refused.

“Funny,” the other man said as Cameron watched him pick up a vial at random, inspect it, then return it back to its resting place with a disapproving frown. “Just one cheeky remark about my clothing choice, and the other shop keep was out the door leaving this-- quaint place in my care. Lucky for you, I am not a thief.”

“Get out.” Cameron repeated with gritted teeth. Growing up alone, it was unnerving to stand across from someone who had your face. Sure, Cameron was aware he existed. That he had a brother that his father deemed more worthy to carry on the family name, leaving him an unnecessary spare. He just never expect to ever come face to face with him. He certainly didn’t expect it to be like looking into a mirror, well, that is if it was a mirror that made you look like a pretentious fuck anyways. Though he probably should've expected that one. Either way, he just could not deal with this right now. Whatever he wanted, whatever it was that he found important enough a reason to contact him for the first time in twenty one years, well he could just take it and shove it up his---

“Now, there is no need to be rude. Where is this ‘southern hospitality’ that everyone keeps telling me about?”

Cameron felt rigid watching this man look over his shop with disdain. “I feel like exceptions can be made considering the circumstances.” He managed finally standing a bit straighter refusing to be intimidated by this British version of himself. “What are you even doing here?”

“Would you believe me if I said I felt it was time to catch up, brother?” Chester asked, and Cameron just blinked at him. “No? Well its a comfort to know you didn’t turn out dumb. I digress. I was sent to check on you. With Margaret's death, we had to be sure you didn’t suddenly think it a good time to find your long lost family. You showing up would cause quite the scandal, which is something the Scabior family generally likes to avoid.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. That was what this was about? The woman who raised him hadn’t even been dead for a week, and the Scabiors had to make sure they could avoid scandal. Cameron could feel the numbness spreading across his fingers and he was certain he wouldn’t be able to hex him if he wanted to. “I really have no plans to ever set foot in England.” He eventually said once he regained the ability to form words into sentences. “Or any desire to have anything to with the Scabiors. I’m sure you missed the memo, but I changed my name years ago.”

Cameron did his best not to squirm under Chester’s calculating gaze, “Fantastic, we’re on the same page then.” Chester clasped his hands together, looking quite pleased that this didn’t take longer than ten minutes. “With that all sorted, I’ll just take my leave.”

The audacity this man had, to come and go so quickly. Cameron had thought he lucked out being raised by Aunt Margo, but now he was certain. “One last thing before you go,” he called, and when Chester paused and turned back to face him, Cameron punched him soundly across the face, feeling satisfied with the crack that filled the air. He couldn’t help but smile when Chester finally straighten himself up, hand covering his nose, blood seeping through his fingers. “Sorry. I’ve always wondered what I would look like with a broken nose.”