Who: Psyke Brown and Tristan Bardera
What: Trying to help?
Where: Her house
When: Today?
Status: Finishing in comments!



There was a faint knocking on her door, but in the pitch blackness of her room, Psyke couldn't be bothered to answer it. Not even with a short noise of acknowledgment, she didn't have the energy. She didn't know if it was from her ridiculously late nights, the fact that every last particle of her body was frozen in misery, or the batch of medication her father had just delivered. She stared at the blanket that covered her head, hearing the knocking again, and rolled her eyes; Maria was probably asking what to feed Lavender, again. What the hell did she know? Babies drank milk, there was milk in the fridge, so---whatever.

"Señora?"

Psyke's eyes narrowed in annoyance, she hated when Maria came into their bedroom---her bedroom.

"What?" she spat from under the covers, not moving the rest of her body. She could see the nanny's confused expression of where the voice was coming from in her mind.

"Ah---un hombre---there is a man? Here. To see---you."

"Tell my brother to fuck off. Mi hermano," she tried to translate, after listening to some of Graciela's rapid fire Spanish.

"No! No es---not your--brother."

This made Psyke twitch, and she sat up, throwing the covers off of her. Maria immediately backed out into the hallway, and Psyke grabbed a hair tie to pull her hair into something that didn't look like a rat's nest. She slung on her robes and hurried out the door, wondering who the hell it could be, and---"Oh."

From the top of the stairs she stared down at Tristan Bardera, smirking, "Hey."

He had never so much regretted not learning Spanish. When the woman had answered the door and he'd tried to talk to her it had become abundantly clear that she wasn't going to let him in unless he - well, he'd frantically gestured around for a little while and managed a few charming smiles ... but she hadn't budged. Finally, he'd gotten the idea to pull out one of his wizarding cards - and at least she understood then that he wasn't someone who was stalking Psyke, but maybe someone that knew her and was 'legitimate'.

Merlin knew how many illegitimate strange men she'd brought home with the way she'd been acting on the journals, but Tristan refused to think like that for very long. Once he finally caught sight of Psyke at the top of the stairs (she didn't look good at all, but he'd learned from Nick that if a man said that about a woman he was just asking for a beating with a broomstick) he managed an awkward smile and rubbed the back of his neck rapidly.

"Hey! Uh, I was just --" in the neighbourhood? That was a lie. "Dropping by to see what was up."

What was up?

Psyke kept her blank expression on Tristan as she descended the stairs, wondering what the hell he was doing here. She definitely wasn't in the mood, if that's what he was thinking, even though he was quite nice to look at. All the men she'd been having flings with had been nice to look at, but that was all she bothered to care about. She could barely remember any of their names, or had even bothered for their names. What did it matter? All she wanted was to feel good for those few hours, and then she dismissed the men like yesterday's rubbish. It didn't matter if she didn't know them, she knew she was using them, they knew it too, so what. Did. It. Matter?

Supposedly this environment was bad for the baby. But all the baby did was sleep and cry, and sit in her crib. Lavender had no idea what was going on behind her mother's closed doors, and she wouldn't for a long, long time. Psyke didn't feel guilty for this, like her brother and sister-in-law had been hinting not so subtly that she should, but Lavender was the one that acted as a constant reminder to Psyke's misery.

So no, she didn't feel guilty.

"Nothing's up," she said as she passed him, to enter the kitchen. "Do you want tea?"

"Tea would be good, thanks. I'm -- I think I might have made your nanny cry." He frowned, following Psyke into the kitchen like an obedient puppy, "I feel a little bad about that, but I got a bit flustered about her not letting me in. I was just making sure you were doing." Not so much 'doing better' or 'doing okay' because that was probably a stupid thing to say. Tristan wasn't really sure what he was doing here either, he just knew that he was protective of girls that he saw in trouble and ... okay, she was really in trouble.

Or she seemed like she was, at least. He'd just be here in case she wanted someone to talk to who wasn't related to her and who wasn't (okay, maybe he would eventually, but not right now) give her a lecture.

Her eyes should be in a constant roll, with how she related to everyone's words lately. Psyke didn't care about Maria and her feelings (the woman was far too sensitive anyway), and she didn't particularly believe Tristan. She'd been more than obvious about what she had wanted from him a few weeks ago, and now, he had found time in his busy schedule, when her brother wasn't watching her like a hawk, to take her up on the offer. Well, no, she was not having it. Definitely not in the mood anymore.

"She'll be fine, as long as the baby doesn't start too," Psyke said dismissively, starting the tea the muggle way because she hadn't touched her wand in days. Well---to shut the door in people's faces when she was across the room, that was a great use of her magic, she was sure. "How's the season going?"

Because that's how it started, right? Small, idle chat? Psyke turned to him, leaning back into the counter with her arms crossed in feigned interest.

"Oh, has she been fussy lately?" He furrowed his brows a little and watched her start the tea manually, only slightly confused at the fact that she wasn't using her wand. Well, maybe she was just trying to be more self-sufficient. He shrugged, though.

"I don't know, it's going. Griffith's doing a better job with the team now that everything's...out in the open." Which was true, he thought - although it was still weird to think about Griff having sex with some other bloke. Ugh. He tried not to let it bother him.

How was he supposed to start with Psyke, telling her that he was concerned about her and that maybe she should think of ... talking to someone?

How was she supposed to know if the baby had been fussy? Did crying nonstop mean fussy?

"She's just being a diva," Psyke said with a roll of her eyes, "gets it from her mother."

Which was probably going to prove true. Psyke was sure that this lack of emotional attachment to the child meant that Lavender was going to grow up and be a rotten brat who didn't listen to any rules, but, then, Psyke was rather good at dismissing people who she didn't want to deal with. Something in her chest hurt at the thought, but the numbness that engulfed her constantly these days suppressed the feeling.

"I'll be rooting for you guys this year," she said, pushing loose hair out of her face. "The rest of them seem like such whiners." Like her old housemate Wadcock, causing a scene every time he stepped out the door. Psyke had to pick the parties that weren't going to give her a headache, thanks.

"I don't think that babies can be divas until they can talk," he managed quietly, shrugging his shoulders. Then again, what did he really know about babies and that sort of thing? It wasn't like he had all that much experience with them. She was right, though -- ignoring the little girl wasn't going to be good for her in the long run.

He'd have offered to watch her now and again if he was a bigger person - but he wasn't, not really. Tristan managed a soft laugh.

"Whiners? Yeah, I think that I'm going to have to agree with you on that one." Sumpter had been whining the last that he'd heard, but Sumpter had also lost a friend in one of the Aurors that had died according to Kirkham.