No, I don't need no help
I can sabotage me by myself

17th March, 1888 — Celtic Street Fair

If he had still been the Assistant Head of his department, Ari might have gotten to stay at work for the overnight shift whilst the head healer was out of the hospital. But he wasn't, and his shifts were now startlingly regular, and even his tendency to stretch out the long hours of a workday and spend time at the hospital just so he had something to do had seen him have to leave eventually.

Ari had nearly made it to his front door (where all that awaited him for the evening was a light supper left out by his housekeeper, and the last third of a novel he wasn't really enjoying but nevertheless could not bring himself to give up on) when he stopped, and frowned.

Maybe he needed something different.

Shoving down the anxious burst in his chest that seemed pained at allowing such perfect plans to be so abruptly disrupted, Ari glanced again a poster pasted to the nearest streetlamp, turned on his heel, and headed for the park.

The fair was heaving, even at this time of the evening: no wonder, Ari realised belatedly - today was St. Patrick's itself. Perhaps he should have come tomorrow morning, and avoided the worst of it -

Internally, he rolled his eyes at himself, and began to wander amongst the stalls, picking up an ale to accompany him as he did. By the time he had watched a performance of Irish dancing, avoided buying all manner of little Irish figurines, and had someone at a stall attempt to guess his star sign, Ari was on his second ale and rather more relaxed.  

That was, until a woman at a nearby stand had started squawking about volunteers: Ari had glanced up, mostly out of reflex, the innate instinct to be helpful - but his eyes widened in horror at the thought of getting dragged into some kind of handfasting demonstration, and so, before the woman could catch his eye, he ducked hastily out of the way. Once he had picked up his pace to a fast walk (perhaps a near jog) he threw a glance over his shoulder, turned to look back where he was going - and ploughed straight into another man.

"Sorry!" Ari exclaimed as he leapt back, a little flushed from his mistake. "I can't believe I didn't see you coming."

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The following 1 user Likes Ari Fisk's post:1 user Likes Ari Fisk's post
   Philip Aymslowe

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Philip was always on the lookout for new things to incorporate into the offerings he had in his bakery so it was no surprise that he had come to the Celtic Street Fair. He has sampled a few things but had stayed clear of the ale. He didn't particularly like the taste of strong alcohol - he was more of a butterbeer and hot cocoa guy.

The place was pretty busy and Philip was enjoying himself. He never had been one to be shy among a crowd - he was in the wrong occupation if it did! - so he was immersing himself in everything that was going on.

Philip had picked up a bit of something to nibble on and with not many other options when it came to drink, he accepted a mug of ale. Taking a sip of it, he didn't find it very enjoyable but took it anyway to be polite. Moving back into the crowd, he was soon ploughed into by an older gent.

"It's fine," Philip said cheerily with a chuckle though his small plate of food had fallen to the ground. "Accident's happen and I wasn't really watching where I was going either."

  

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— set by MJ —

The man seemed agreeable enough - had said it was fine, which was good - but by now Ari had also taken note of the fact that he was younger, dark-haired, and handsome, and that hadn't much helped the embarrassed flush in his cheeks recede.

It was nice of him to take partial blame, Ari thought. "I was avoiding getting Irish married," he explained in return, with a sort of shrugged laugh. "Or any kind of married." (Why he had added that out loud, Ari did not know.) True as it may have been, heavens knew it hadn't been relevant or necessary to this conversation! He shrugged that off as though he were trying to be casually funny, taking a hasty sip of the ale he was holding as an excuse to look away briefly.

In doing so, Ari caught sight of the fallen food; he must have knocked it right out the poor fellow's hand. That, at least, was an easier thing to be mortified and apologetic about - so rather than shuffling off, Ari did add: "Can I get you something else to eat? You've lost your whole plate."

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The following 2 users Like Ari Fisk's post:2 users Like Ari Fisk's post
   Ophelia Devine, Philip Aymslowe

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"Oh? Enjoying the life of a bachelor, are you?" Philip couldn't help but say teasingly despite being a little surprised by the mans words. Then again, Philip wasn't much different, he supposed. He'd been interested in a lady once but that had gone nowhere but he also hadn't been particularly heartbroken. He had other things to take up his time than to worry about marriage.

He smiled brightly at the offer of food. Philip was not one to turn down an act of kindness. "That would be quite kind and it would be great fun if you joined me," he said, also not one to pass up the chance to possibly make a new friend. He had been a Hufflepuff, after all!

  

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— set by MJ —

"Well, I don't know about enjoying," Ari replied, still smiling awkwardly, since the words themselves were, once again, a little franker than he'd intended. "No one I know seems to think I have any fun at all." Hopefully this poor fellow would take that as yet another joke, however painfully true it was. He supposed his whole life was something of a joke, wasn't it?

Nevertheless, he had come out to this fair for the express purpose of doing something about his sorry existence, and although Ari hadn't anticipated getting food with a stranger - or bumping into anyone, particularly - the man seemed friendly, and had even said this might be great fun, which was maybe a start, even if he was only being polite.

He nodded in faint relief at that comment, returning the smile as genuinely as he could manage. "Are you a bachelor yourself?" Ari asked, casting around for conversation - casual conversation; he couldn’t be too interested, Merlin help him - as he glanced around for the most promising looking food stall.

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The following 1 user Likes Ari Fisk's post:1 user Likes Ari Fisk's post
   Philip Aymslowe

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Philip took the other mans words as a joke since he didn't really have a reason to do otherwise. "I'm sure that's not true," he chuckled. "Fun is different for different people. I find getting a new tart recipe perfectly fun but I am sure it would be a dull thing for you." Which reminded him that he actually had a new tart recipe that he'd managed to coerce from one of the food stalls but that could wait.

"Yes, indeed," Philip confirmed when the other man asked if he was a bachelor himself. "Work tends to take up my time and I suppose I am not the sort the ladies exactly clamor for." Philip was aware that he wasn't a hideous looking human being but he was also fairly modest when it came to his own looks. Even so, he didn't consider himself to be any sort of exceptionally handsome fellow which he assumed most ladies wanted. Plus he was a man that owned a bakery and enjoyed doing a lot of the cooking himself - perhaps that was considered odd among most folk.

  

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— set by MJ —

His mouth upturned even more at the corner in rather delighted surprise at the man's mention of a tart recipe, as though getting recipes was a regular hobby of his. That was by no means the sort of thing he had expected to hear from the stranger - from most anyone? - and at once he had a fair few questions on the tip of his tongue, clamouring to be asked about the man's life.

But he'd already asked another, and that took him into startlingly familiar territory. Work was both the best excuse he had for not meeting more people, and the truth of why he did not; indeed, Ari was almost amused by the fact that he had apparently met a kindred spirit on the one day he'd not gone straight home after work.

He might have said something to this effect and maintained some semblance of normal, comfortable conversation, if the man had not added I suppose I am not the sort the ladies exactly clamor for. "I'm sure that's not true," Ari protested, blurting out the words before he'd had a proper chance to think them over. But it was worse than that - somewhere he had lost his filter - because now every thought that crossed his mind as he studied the stranger was leaping to his lips, apparently to be made public. "You're far too handsome to say a thing like that. I mean, with those eyes, the hair -" tousled, but in a pleasant, charming way, a bit like - "you actually remind me of a friend of mine, a little," Ari remarked, before he could stop himself; "he -" oh no, oh no no no (Ari clamped down on his tongue, refusing to go there, Merlin), "- has the same sort of hair. Dark. You know," he recovered, his voice somewhat strangled.

He must have really lost his tolerance somewhere along the way, if this was what an ale or two could do to him these days. If he hadn't before, Ari now felt rather nauseous. Probably, he should make a break for it before the man digested anything he'd just said - or worse, read anything into it - but a small, foolish fraction of Ari's brain thought he might be able to smooth things over if he stayed, in order that those remarks might be forgotten. Even better, buried and erased.

"Have you got any particular tastes?" He asked lamely. Of food. For choosing the food stall. Merlin.      

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The following 1 user Likes Ari Fisk's post:1 user Likes Ari Fisk's post
   Philip Aymslowe

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Philip turned his gaze back to the stranger when he protested against his statement that he wasn't the sort ladies clamored for. Oh. Philip blushed at the other mans words. He had never heard such words from anyone of any gender so he couldn't say for certain if his reaction would be the same if it were a woman saying them. They were rather bold words for a person to be saying to anyone, weren't they?

"I can never get it to sit neatly," Philip couldn't help but comment when the other man commented on his hair, his hand brushing through his hair almost by reflex. Considering he didn't know who this friend might be, Philip did not know. "They have dark hair that can't be tamed too?" Philip asked with a chuckle.

There was a warm feeling in the pit of his belly though. Kind of how he felt when someone complimented one of his new creations except the compliments had to do with himself. Philip had never actively considered the fact that he sometimes thought of mens appearances the way he might a womans. He barely even did the latter so it had never really been something he actively noticed that he did.

His eyes kept drifting to the older man, discretely assessing his features. He was a handsome man too, Philip thought. Kind eyes, really nice eyes actually. Distracted by his silent appraisal of his new acquaintances appearance, he almost missed the question being asked of him. "Uh, what? Oh! No. I like any sort of food. Making them. Eating them. I'm the one to do it," Philip said, suddenly inexplicably some sort of nervous.    "I'm Philip Aymslowe, by the way."

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The following 1 user Likes Philip Aymslowe's post:1 user Likes Philip Aymslowe's post
   Ari Fisk

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— set by MJ —

Well, this was now awkward. This was now extremely awkward. Congratulations, Ari, he thought to himself, looking at the man blush and hoping that his own face wasn't burning.

"Yes, that," he mumbled, in response. "Wild, but strangely dashing." That wasn't making it better. Honestly, what had gotten into him? (Obviously, he'd always been - ahem - that, but Ari had decades of practice at confining any self-incriminating opinions very much to himself, and he'd had plenty of ales around Ben over the years without being quite this useless. January two years ago had been an outlier, and didn't count.)  

The man was still talking to him, though, for some indiscernible reason. So - food it was. By the sounds of it, this man would be a much better judge of what to try from all these stalls, but Ari, trying to move onto safer topics, gestured questioningly at some rustic-looking Irish apple cake nearby. That'd do, maybe.

And oh, Merlin, they were introducing themselves now? The one saving grace about this conversation had so far been that Ari had a hope of anonymity. "Oh - er - Ari Fisk," he said, freeing up his right hand to extend it for a handshake, and immediately regretting this course of action, because handshakes usually came long before calling anyone "too handsome" to their face. Afterwards, it felt rather more personal. "Are you a chef of some kind, then?" He inquired, brows creased in interest. (Unwillingly, his mind leapt back to finding Ben, lost and memory-less in Ireland. Working - of all things - as a restaurant chef.)

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The following 1 user Likes Ari Fisk's post:1 user Likes Ari Fisk's post
   Philip Aymslowe

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Philips blush only deepened at the other mans words. Almost of its own accord, his hand reached up and raked through his hair making it even more messy than it tended to get on its own. He was not accustomed to any of this, to such compliments. It was a little heady to deal with if he was being perfectly honest.

Philip was more than happy to focus his attention on the one thing in the world he always understood perfectly - food. The Irish food had been especially fascinating to experience.

“Ari - your given name is rather unique,” Philip complimented, stopping himself from asking if Mister Fisk knew where his name came from. He accepted the handshake with a smile before nodding in response to the question. “Of some kind, yes. I own a bakery and sweet shop over in Irvingly and I do quite a bit of the baking myself.” He did have a hired on baker, of course, but he personally tried out and perfected every recipe himself before passing it on.

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— set by MJ —

Thank the lord they were on safer topics now, Ari thought, releasing Mr. Aymslowe's hand. He gave a sheepish smile about the remark about his name; it wasn't quite a compliment - nor an insult - but unique was still something, and as casual as the observation was, it nevertheless felt like something peculiarly personal to discuss. Ari might have thanked him and left it at that, but instead found himself rambling again.

"It's, er, Hebrew, I think." It meant lion, he'd discovered once, but that had never fit him at all, besides the fact that he was a Leo and had pet cats, he supposed. If only he'd been a Gryffindor. But brave was not something he'd ever considered himself to be. "Not quite as strange as my middle name, either - Ajax," he said, despite feeling quite mortified about telling this story. "It's all my mother's fault; she liked to read far too much, picked everything from books."

He paused to pay for two slices of the apple cake - it was the least he could do now, particularly since bumping into Philip Aymslowe had only been the start of his missteps. His smile inched wider at the revelation that Mr. Aymslowe owned his own shop. "You'll have to be the judge of whether this is any good, then," Ari joked, passing one of the plates over. Would fair food be up to the baker's standards? "And I'd love to visit sometime," he added, which was true but also just an amiable thing to say - only, he found himself then murmuring, "though I'm sure you'll be glad not to see me again." He smiled weakly, just in case he'd heard that. With everything he'd said already, and somehow he was still stuffing things up.

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“Ajax! I quite like that,” Philip said with a chuckle without really thinking about it. He always had been a sociable sort that got comfortable with a person a little too quickly than what most probably considered normal. “Perhaps she saw you becoming a warrior.” That seemed mildly a flirty thing to say, he realized belatedly but it wasn’t like he could take the words back now that they had been said. Philip cleared his throat.

Anyway.

Apple cake. That was a safer thing to focus on then his own confused thoughts. “Oh! I’d love to have you over to the shop. Since it’s a muggle area, I have to hide my magical wares in the back but I do like to show off a little.” Why did he feel  like everything he was saying now sounded like a flirty remark when it was something he’d offer to anyone?

  

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— set by MJ —

Ari supposed he might have stopped embarrassing himself sooner if Mr. Aymslowe hadn’t - miraculously - managed to take everything so in his stride. Perhaps in the best possible way, too, judging by the things he was saying now. Unquestionably friendly, certainly... maybe even playful?

Ari was probably reading too much into the conversation. He’d never be that lucky. As it was, it seemed he had been lulled into some sense of security, false or not, because he was barely thinking about his words before they came out. “That’d be her mistake then; I’ve always been more a lover than a fighter,” not that he meant lover as in - “Only, I mean, I’m a healer. So.” He trailed off into a laugh.

And then there was the question of Mr. Aymslowe liking to show off. The man hadn’t otherwise come off as remotely cocksure, so he might just be proud of his work, but Ari could feel the flush creeping up his neck anyway. “Well, I’m sure I’ll be easily impressed, but -” he admitted, “I’d like that.” Shit. What was going on?

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The following 1 user Likes Ari Fisk's post:1 user Likes Ari Fisk's post
   Philip Aymslowe

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Philip found himself blushing at Mister Fisks next words though he couldn't really fathom why. They seemed innocent enough. "Fighting against diseases then. A Warrior for Good Health," he said teasingly after a bit of an awkward pause in which he hadn't been able to really think of any words to say.

"Wonderful! I have some new creations that I have been wanting to have someone try but most of my neighbors and clientele are muggles so obviously I can't quite ask them." Though the idea of being somewhere relatively isolated with Mister Fisk felt somewhat - well, he didn't know how to describe it. "Besides, I have never been one to turn away the chance to make a new friend." And the man seemed quite the sort that he would enjoy being friends with. Well, if the awkward, warm belly, tingling sort of thing went away. It was quite an awkward feeling.

  

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— set by MJ —

It was a daft joke, really, and offered incredibly awkwardly (not that Ari could talk, after every single word out of his own mouth); and, somehow, anyway, it was horribly endearing, and the laugh that Ari let out was more than genuine.

"Well, consider me at your service," Ari offered, quite sure he was drunk. Had he said his magical wares were in the back? Was he still reading into this, or was that some kind of... proposition? (He supposed if he had not spent the last several years stubbornly in love with a man who would never love him back, he might be more competent at navigating subtext. Or at propositioning people.)

"I'd rather like to be -" he could feel the words forming almost of their own accord, more than, and suddenly panic tore the rug out from under him, wrenched the phrase from his tongue and forced it back down, violently. Either he was drunk or drugged, or he had gone completely insane, to be even considering being as forward as that - in a public place! And Mr. Aymslowe was a veritable stranger! And even if he was inclined that way - no, there was no excuse. "Friends," he said, his tone sounding strangled to him, but Ari finally feeling as though he had wrested back control of his mouth from its mutiny. With that self-control descended self-consciousness, embarrassment flaring up to new heights, and Ari decided it was probably time to remove himself from this situation.

There was still the lingering temptation to visit him in Irvingly, just to see if there was something, but - best not. "I've, er, I've got to go, but - it was lovely to meet you, enjoy the apple cake," he declared, all in one breath, rue written across his face as he took a few steps back and hastened away.

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Philip was absolutely delighted when Mr. Fisk agreed on coming by sometime to try out his goods. He was clueless as to how his words might be construed as something else other than a friendly request for a taste tester of sorts.

Philip eyed the man in mild confusion as he seemed to struggle over his words. Merlin, was he quite all right? He nodded though Mr. Fisks demeanor was confusing to him. They had been getting along merrily just moments ago, hadn't they? Or was he a lot more dense when it came to people that he had previously thought himself to be?

"Er, yes. Lovely to meet you as well," Philip said as Mr. Fisk seemed to now be in quite the hurry to leave, leaving Philip with his own confused thoughts and hormones.  Lovely man but quite odd, he thought to himself as he turned to leave himself.

  

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— set by MJ —