The worst part about this was that Art felt as if he'd expended all his emotional energy on turning down Selwyn's bribe, and now they had to actually figure out how this fucking duel would work. He tilted his head back against Selwyn's armchair, throat facing the ceiling, and sighed. "Right, no one's dying," Art said, because he very much wanted this, and clearly Selwyn did too. "Wands, though, right?" Art didn't even know where to begin finding a gun, and didn't want to, and a sword seemed dramatic.

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   Emrys Selwyn

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set by MJ <3

Good, at least they'd gotten that far. At least Pettigrew didn't seem to be morally invested in the dispute Reuben Crouch had with Elmer Macmillan, and therefore inclined to protest that Crouch had every right to kill him, or something melodramatic like that. At least in this instance, Pettigrew was less of a hothead than his friend, which was a pleasant surprise. Knowing nothing about him except that he was a Quidditch player and had apparently lost a good deal of money at some point in his life, Emrys had not particularly been expecting someone level-headed. (He had also not been expecting someone who would have any qualms about lying or taking bribes, but he had evidently been mistaken on that count, to the detriment of everyone involved).

The question surprised him at first, because he'd forgotten that duels happened in any other capacity. Right, swords and pistols and things. Duels were so terribly archaic — why were they doing this?

"Yes, wands," he agreed. Macmillan might have been keen on another option and might even have had a collection of antique pistols in his shop, Emrys supposed — which would have been ideal as they were very unlikely to actually work — but presumably Crouch wouldn't have been quite as ill-equipped, and if they were dealing with a sword or pistol duel from someone who actually knew how to use one it increased the odds that Macmillan was going to end up bleeding on him at some point in the day, which — gross.

"An exceptionally limited range of spells would be best, I think," he recommended. "In an area your fellow isn't any good in. I think anything would be more or less the same for Macmillan."

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   Minty Scrimgeour [Sofia]

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Lou made this! <3

The trouble was that Ben had been a cursebreaker, and so Art wasn't sure if there actually was much practical magic he wasn't any good in. Sure, he hadn't taken that many N.E.W.T. classes - neither had Art - but that was so long ago. He tried to think back to the exhibition dueling from the other month, but that wasn't much help either — he couldn't piece it together.

He wished that Aldous had agreed to this; not because Aldous would be a better second (Art could handle a duel, he could) but because Aldous would have been better at negotiating terms. After the last four days, Art felt like he was grasping at a reality he was not prepared to participate in — that anything outside of the Irvingly Casino was beyond him.

"Something that will get us to first blood? Or — whatever," Art offered, half to give himself extra time. He added: "I say we give them, I don't know, five curses or whatever, and let that be the list."

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set by MJ <3

Emrys' stomach did an involuntary flip at the mention of blood. He hated blood, already hated duels although this would be his first, and really wished Pettigrew would have just taken the money and spared them this.

"Five seems adequate," he agreed. "I'd prefer you choose them, if you don't mind. I'll review a list once you've got it, but I imagine your fellow has far more opinions on what ought to be included to make a satisfactory duel than mine has."

He wasn't even really sure Macmillan would go to the duel. Maybe the prospect of having been challenged was enough excitement, and he'd forget about this before Friday. Certainly he couldn't really think some married woman was worth dying over.

  

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Lou made this! <3

Oh, shit, a list. The logistics of this were getting really taxing, and Art hadn't even really settled how they were getting to Ireland in the first place with Ben. He rubbed his forehead with his thumb for a second. "Sure, I'll talk to him, I can get it to you by tomorrow afternoon," Art said, exhausted by the concept but knowing it was what had to be done. He could wake up, talk to Ben either via letter or in person, go to practice, send some letter to Selwyn, go to the casino and try to dig himself out of his own debt, and get home at a time that Desdemona wouldn't be suspicious. He could. It was very possible. He just couldn't wrap his head around it, but he was sure that he could.

"And if he's not set on dueling anymore, I'll let you know," Art said, with a helpless little shrug. Maybe Ben would change his mind and they could all move on.

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Emrys nodded wearily. The logistics of the actual spells involved was exceptionally tedious and he would be happy to be done with it sooner rather than later. Pettigrew's last comment made him look up. He wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a joke. Emrys had come straight out and asked what it would take to get this duel dismissed earlier and Pettigrew hadn't seemed particularly forthcoming with options, but if he was bringing it up again maybe there was a chance.

"I would very much appreciate if that were the case," he said, taking another drink. "Obviously you know Mr. Crouch better than I do. If you think it might help... I'd be comfortable with up to ten galleons," he said with a shrug. The most expensive prostitute he'd ever encountered cost three, so he was being rather generous in assuming this woman's honor was worth thrice as much. Bedding her almost certainly wouldn't have been.

"But don't bring it up if you think it'll make matters worse," Emrys continued. "No need to make a murderer of Mr. Crouch over something so trivial."

  

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Lou made this! <3

Ten galleons, Emrys Selwyn said like it was nothing, and Art's heart stopped in his chest. Ten galleons, and he'd turned Selwyn down, and it was too late to go back now, but - ten galleons was a week of work, it was enough to knock out his debt, it was enough to give him fuck-around money for his gambling addiction. Ten galleons. He'd already turned it down, but regret pooled in his veins thick as molasses, even as he knew exactly why he'd declined.

He took a gulping sip of his drink.

"Yeah," Art said, as if he'd heard anything after the number of galleons, "I don't know, we'll see."

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   Reuben Crouch

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set by MJ <3