While attacking his brother’s choice of profession had not quite been on the conversation cards, any more than cursed flats or his brother’s mysterious female friend had been, Evander was comfortable enough in how this usually went to tackle it without any real hesitation. (He had lost count of how many times they had had some variant or another of this conversation over the years; it was no secret between them, what he thought of Alfred’s job.)
And peppering in the idea of a different career possibility had always been part of the plan for today, as subtly as Evander could manage it. It had not been going to be a whole ordeal, merely a comment or sideline to another topic, a passing remark on something he’d hoped might have floated in his brother’s ear and percolated there unobtrusively enough that Alfred was almost oblivious to it. Just a subtle reminder to his bull-headed brother that Evander had not yet given up on the possibility. (And until Alfred retired from the sea to do something objectively less stupid, likely never would.)
So Alfred’s answer, head on, was a little more direct than he had intended this to be, but oh well. It did almost stump Evander for a moment or two, as well: Alfred admitting he didn’t have the skills for anything other than what he did. Evander could not help but agree with that; much as he would have liked Alfred to make some respectable Ministry connections, he couldn’t imagine J. Alfred Darrow taking up a post there, marching through the Ministry’s halls. It simply did not compute. He would look about as out of place there as a talking chimpanzee.
Still, his experiences had to have had some good effects on him, and he wasn’t a complete loss for a man in his mid-thirties! For a moment, Evander actually opened his mouth on the verge of stubbornly suggesting the department of International Magical Co-operation, for he was someone who had travelled, seen something of the world, interacted with cultures at odds with theirs. But a professional translator or a diplomat? No, it wouldn’t do. His brother would be laughed at, whispered about.
“Surely you might find something with the skills you have that doesn’t require setting off halfway around the world,” Evander countered instead, wishing that he could challenge Alfred with this rather than Alfred challenging him to come up with a solution. “Besides, it’s never too late to try something new.” (Hm. As sure as the sentiment sounded, Evander did not think it would stand up to testing; he had never had the slightest desire to bend a routine or try something different.) “And it’s not as though you don’t have plenty of knowledge about certain things already,” Evander said with an awkward handwave, finding himself entirely unused to offering his brother compliments, if that was what had just issued from his mouth. “Or good experience. You’ve - led people,” he tried for an example, though privately considered a crew of sailors rather a different breed from people who lived as people should. On land. “Organised... things.” Dubious things. But there was something to admire in it.
And peppering in the idea of a different career possibility had always been part of the plan for today, as subtly as Evander could manage it. It had not been going to be a whole ordeal, merely a comment or sideline to another topic, a passing remark on something he’d hoped might have floated in his brother’s ear and percolated there unobtrusively enough that Alfred was almost oblivious to it. Just a subtle reminder to his bull-headed brother that Evander had not yet given up on the possibility. (And until Alfred retired from the sea to do something objectively less stupid, likely never would.)
So Alfred’s answer, head on, was a little more direct than he had intended this to be, but oh well. It did almost stump Evander for a moment or two, as well: Alfred admitting he didn’t have the skills for anything other than what he did. Evander could not help but agree with that; much as he would have liked Alfred to make some respectable Ministry connections, he couldn’t imagine J. Alfred Darrow taking up a post there, marching through the Ministry’s halls. It simply did not compute. He would look about as out of place there as a talking chimpanzee.
Still, his experiences had to have had some good effects on him, and he wasn’t a complete loss for a man in his mid-thirties! For a moment, Evander actually opened his mouth on the verge of stubbornly suggesting the department of International Magical Co-operation, for he was someone who had travelled, seen something of the world, interacted with cultures at odds with theirs. But a professional translator or a diplomat? No, it wouldn’t do. His brother would be laughed at, whispered about.
“Surely you might find something with the skills you have that doesn’t require setting off halfway around the world,” Evander countered instead, wishing that he could challenge Alfred with this rather than Alfred challenging him to come up with a solution. “Besides, it’s never too late to try something new.” (Hm. As sure as the sentiment sounded, Evander did not think it would stand up to testing; he had never had the slightest desire to bend a routine or try something different.) “And it’s not as though you don’t have plenty of knowledge about certain things already,” Evander said with an awkward handwave, finding himself entirely unused to offering his brother compliments, if that was what had just issued from his mouth. “Or good experience. You’ve - led people,” he tried for an example, though privately considered a crew of sailors rather a different breed from people who lived as people should. On land. “Organised... things.” Dubious things. But there was something to admire in it.
