July 01st, 1888 — MacFusty House, Hebrides
James MacFusty

A job! She had a job! After a month and a half of wandering the streets, searching for a respectable position, and generally draining her savings, she was seated in the sitting room of the MacFusty mansion and flipping through the journal that she'd hopefully fill with her research findings for months to come.

Being back in the Hebrides was almost surreal; she'd worked so hard to block out the memories of the trauma and recovery that she'd endured at the end of April that it almost felt as if she was experienced a strange case of déjà vu. Everything was so familiar, but also not; the home and the surrounding areas remained only as blurred memories.

And then, of course, there were the people.

Tilda was obviously a familiar face, as were the faces of Mr. Malcolm MacFusty and his wife. The other MacFusty brothers (there were nearly ten of them) were more or less familiar depending on the time they'd taken back in April to speak to her, and in some ways their faces seemed to meld together in her mind.

Thus, when a very tall, very shirtless MacFusty entered the room, Bella couldn't identify them—not that she would have had much luck anyhow. With wide eyes and pink cheeks, all she could do was let out a yelp in surprise.

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

It was well known throughout the MacFusty family that Jamie rarely actually lived at the family home but that he'd still stop by every other week or so. He was a rather self sufficient man and could see to his own needs while living in his little shack on the island housing the toddling dragons but he still craved a good, warm home cooked meal and a true warm bath from time to time. During such times, he was likely to end up at the house through a weekend at the very least. But that weekend, he was clearly oblivious to the fact that they had a guest.

He'd just gotten home, gone in through the back door that lead into the kitchen, only to be hounded by their housekeeper for "being in such a state." Said state was of a torn and dirty shirt and overly grizzly appearance. He'd simply laughed at the woman's response, insisting he strip of such an awful shirt and toss it to the fires. And while it was a funny greeting to him, he'd obliged. He'd learned long ago that not obliging the woman would be hell to pay.

So as it was, he meandered out of the kitchens with half a biscuit in one hand and the other half of it in his mouth without a shirt on. He'd just stepped into the sitting room intent on heading to his room only to be greeted by a feminine yelp. Brow quickly raised when he took note of a rather unfamiliar face sitting there and staring at him with pink cheeks and wide eyes.

"Erro," he said by way of greeting though the biscuit in his mouth made it come out in more of a muffled sort of sound.

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As she sat there with an open mouth, there was no telling what words were trying to escape her lips. An apology? A question? An unintentional scolding? Even she wasn't sure, as her brain had frozen just as her vocal cords had. Her career at St. Mungo's had ensured that she'd seen shirtless men before, but his entire presentation was bizarre.

"... Hello," she finally greeted in a weak, squeaky voice. Her gaze flickered down to his chest and then back to his face, her cheeks managing to burn even brighter. Hadn't someone once pointed out that she looked sweet with pink cheeks? She surely hoped so, or else she looked like a plain fool.

"You're eating. Um - I didn't mean to - uh - disturb you, Mr. MacFusty...?" That was her best guess; he was a giant like the rest of them, and donned the same dark hair and scruffy features.

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Luckily, she seemed to be confused (or perhaps shocked) and didn't know what to say. It allowed for Jamie to finish eating the biscuit that had been in his mouth so that he wouldn't look like a total heathen. Not that he really cared. The rugged mountain man of a MacFusty rarely dealt with anything having to do with society so his mannerisms and the like were far from that of a proper gentleman. He even went so far has to chuckle when he noticed her gaze drifting to his bared chest with its mattering of scars only to make her cheeks all the more bright.

"Yes, I was," he said with a smirk, "And nay, Mr. MacFusty is me pa. Jamie is all I am." And that was something he'd stick to. Mr. MacFusty made him sound like some uppity sort and he was far from that. "Dun believe I know ye," he said as he offered a large and rough hand to her as he took a few more steps closer, "Are ye a wife?" Because, clearly, that was the only plausible way a pretty young lady would be in the house.

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   Bella Scrimgeour

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She'd found her voice, but eloquence, tact, and her social skills had seemingly escaped her. She continued to gawk at him as he spoke, trying to take in his words but not really doing so.

"N-No," she stammered, shaking her head a little too stiffly as he held out his hand. She stared at it for a moment before reaching out and taking it—but not without visible hesitation. "Not a wife." (Didn't the brothers know their brothers' wives?) "I'm Miss Scrimgeour." In the moment she didn't consider that he wouldn't know who she was or why she was here; surely Mr. Malcolm MacFusty would have told them that much.

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Jamie gave the hand she hesitantly took his with a quick and firm shake before releasing it. Brow furrowed slightly with confusion when she said she wasn't a wife and gave her name though. He'd heard nothing of her. But that wasn't always a surprise. A quick owl to Jamie rarely got responded to so it was easier to simply fill him in on things when he was around the house. This was the first he'd been back to the house in a few weeks though and she was only the second person he'd encountered since he'd gotten home.

"Then why're ye here?" he asked, clearly a blunt and straight forward sort of person. She wasn't dressed like a servant and if she wasn't a wife, he didn't quite understand why she was there.

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When he released her hand, she quickly placed it in her lap and held it there—a clear sign of her discomfort. He obviously had little idea who she was or why she was here; she wasn't even sure if they'd met before.

"I'm working as a research assistant. For your brother, I mean." she explained quietly, staring up at him from her seat. Part of her was afraid to rise, but part of her knew that remaining seated only made her feel smaller. It was certainly a predicament, and one she wasn't feeling brave enough to solve at the moment.

"I couldn't say what the job entails yet—does anyone, really?—but it should...be...fun."

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Oblivious to any of her discomfort, Jamie haphazardly threw himself onto one of the chairs opposite where she was sitting. Most thought him to be a bit of a recluse that preferred solitude. And while that was mostly true, he didn't mind some human interaction. Besides, this woman sitting across from him with bright red cheeks was a bit of a conundrum and he couldn't help but to chuckle with a raised brow when she said she worked for one of his brothers.

"Tha' doesn't tell me much," he said simply, brow still raised, "I got lots'o brothers. And we all deal with dragons." So saying she was a research assistant still didn't tell him much either.

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Bella's eyes followed him, but her body remained stiffly in place. She only angled herself slightly different when he moved to sit, smoothing her skirt self-consciously in the process.

"Malcolm MacFusty. He - He offered me a job through letter and I took it," she replied with subtle upturn of her lips. "I'll be collecting data, information—you know. Research stuff."

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Jamie sat idly picking at his fingernails from his lounged position on the chair, hardly looking at the lass on the couch. Even then, he'd likely not have noticed how stiffly she sat. Even if he did, he wouldn't have much cared. She'd have to loosen up eventually if she was to stand a chance of living with the MacFusty. He wondered if she'd met Vina yet. Surely the one girl of the clan would have a way to lighten her up.

"And 'ave ye ever been 'round dragons much?" he asked, looking up from his fingernail inspection with a brow raised again, "They're no exactly something to watch for the faint of heart."

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The more she watched him, the more she realized she was probably overthinking this interaction. He seemed so calm, so casual—but then again, this was his house, and she had yet to make herself comfortable.

"I've never worked with dragons, no, but," she answered, "I wouldn't say I have a weak heart. I may seem a little skittish—at least at first—but I think I adjust well enough. I'll do fine with a little help."

She wasn't going to become a dragonkeeper or anything; it wasn't as if she needed to corral them into a cage. All she needed to observe from a far enough distance to where she wouldn't be burned to a crisp!

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Jamie couldn't help the bark of laughter that left him at her words. It was far from any civilized sort of laughter. Too loud. Too brash. But it was who Jamie was on occasion.

"I'm thinking skittish may be a bit of an understatement," he said once he'd stopped laughing, "Ye looked as if ye've seen a monster of the highest kind. Though if Mac is the main MacFusty ye know, ye've no idea what yer getting into." Max was probably one of the smallest of the brothers, truth be told. The oldest of them were the most rugged, that was for sure but Jamie felt himself to be a special breed of the lot.

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Bella's expression fell into a scowl at his remark, but reverted back to a neutral one—too neutral for her naturally-expressive self—once his gaze fixed back on her.

With an audible huff, she declared: "If I was as half as skittish as I seem right now, I would not be here to begin with!" It was true in more ways than one, too; if she'd have learned to be more skittish—more low-key—she would have never found herself cast onto the streets to begin with. "I don't imagine dragons can be anymore vicious than humans, anyways; at least they can't control their ways," she added offhandedly.

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Jamie chuckled again. The lady had something more under the prim and blushing exterior she'd presented him with initially. He could give her that much at least. But he still didn't imagine she'd have what it took to be around the dragons. Not full time at least.

"Nay but they can kill ye much more brutally," he answered simply, "Ever thought what it could be like to be burned alive? If yer lucky ye'd pass out with the pain before ye died. Or mayhaps ye get crushed by one? It'd likely kill ya in the end but not before you were in agonizing pain for hours." He paused long enough to watch her features closely just to see how his words were affecting her.

"And while some may nah have much control over what it is they do, some do," he said with a shrug as he sat up more like a normal human, "They ain't stupid creatures. Some are quite smart and they tend to pick up on things over time. If ye really plan to study 'em, make sure ye got yer wits about ya at all times."

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She listened to his words and tried her hardest to take everything with a grain of salt despite knowing that everything he said was likely true. He was probably trying to scare her—you know, rip every ounce of confidence she had left before she was even faced with a dragon. Men liked to do that, right? As a sort of power move?

Well, she wasn't having any of it! (And besides, she'd already felt pain beyond comprehension before.)

"I like to consider the positives," she stated as a half-assed rebuttal. "Besides, if you and your family allowed fear to dictate your lives, we'd have Hebridean Blacks burning down every village in Britain. There would be no one to keep them in check," she added, raising her brows in challenge.

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Rolling his eyes at the mention of postives, Jamie managed to not laugh outright. The positives were for outnumbered by the realities. Dragons weren't positive creatures in the slightest. They weren't pets no matter what some of his brothers may feel with the ones they tended. He dealt with the most unruly of the lot though so his job was one with far more danger and fear than of the ones with older dragons.

"Exactly. Family," he said, an emphasis on the final word, "We've been raised with dragon handling in our blood. S'all we've ever known." It made a big difference to be raised around it and to suddenly decide to take an interest in dragons.

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