Whatever else she said, Ford was entirely distracted by her use of profanity. Not the word itself; he used it often enough that it was hardly going to shock him to hear it from someone else's lips. Ford mostly used profanity internally, though, and when he did swear aloud it was almost never around women. He could probably count on his fingers the number of times he'd used foul language around someone of the opposite sex, and one of them might have been while he was trying to escape a fire in the midst of a hurricane. He did not drop those sorts of words casually into conversation at parties, and had never known a lady to do so either. The time and place seemed particularly significant. This was society, and while not everyone was keeping the same sort of mental tally that he had been preoccupied with tonight, everyone was playing a part at least to some extent; everyone chose their words as carefully as a gambler selected which card to play when the stakes were high. That seemed especially true now, because they were flirting (flirting had ceased to be an active verb and had become a state of being; she had gotten him his second drink and he had asked her to dance, and now they had passed a point of no return and were flirting no matter what they said or did). She could just as easily have said she was bad at healing, so had she chosen shit specifically to elicit some sort of reaction? If so — what reaction? Because Ford desperately wanted to have the right reaction, whatever it was. It wasn't so much about her or what she thought of him, at least not entirely. It was the point of the conversation they were at — past pleasantries, having shared some stories and interests, feeling slightly more comfortable around each other, flirting — the stakes were higher, and a misstep now might have bigger consequences, be more revealing of all the things he was trying to keep hidden.

And he had no idea what the right reaction was.

"I know just enough about healing to know that I shouldn't," Ford said, having determined that gliding past it with no reaction at all was at least safer than gawking at her with a panicked look in his eye. "Like — oh, you'll find this interesting, I imagine — back in February when all those people were transfigured into animals, I was part of the — er, search efforts, I suppose. Only because it was originally a capture effort, of course, because at the time we all thought this was the Beast Division's incident to handle, and they were too short-staffed to handle it," he explained. "And I actually — well, I un-transfigured one of them by accident, and that's how we figured it out. But then people thought I could help with un-transfiguring the rest and I backed right out of that. It was blind luck that I didn't leave the first girl with feathers and talons, you know. Certainly wasn't going to push it."

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   Ida Chang

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Set by Lady!

Ida, of course, had no idea that she even cursed. It slipped out as naturally as it always did when among friends, particularly after she’s imbibed. Perhaps in this case, it probably had more to do with the wine than the friendship. She and Mister Greengrass weren’t exactly friends (there’s a quota for how many pleasant conversations one must have before friendship, right?).

Though the witch hummed in genuine interest as he told her what happened in February – “Oh I remember reading about that!” she noted, her smile edging more on the side of a grin as he mentioned the girl with feathers and talons. “I cannot believe I’m talking to the man who cracked that missing people case,” she added, a slight tease in her impressed tone. “Though to un-transfigure someone by accident? That’s quite a feat. Perhaps you were overly modest earlier about your abilities,” she observed playfully. Though it did occur in the back of her mind that maybe this was some tactic. To start a conversation and make her feel nice about her research. She liked to think he was genuine, because it bothered her if he was not. …Not that she should be reading into any of this, anyway.

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stefanie made this beautiful set <3

Ford offered her an overblown grimace in response to her lauding him as the man who'd cracked the case. The truth was he'd had no idea what he was doing, and it was pure luck that his misfired spell had caused the transfiguration spell to fail without doing any other damage. That was what had actually happened, someone from Magical Accidents and Catastrophes had later explained; he hadn't un-transfigured her at all, just conflicted with the existing spell enough that the magic had collapsed under its own weight. As he'd been initially trying to cast a restraining spell, this was not so much impressive as it was impressively bad — which was why he had been avoiding bringing it up to anyone. He was quite happy to fade into anonymity regarding his involvement in the missing persons debacle... but enough time had passed that he suspected public interest in the case had waned, so it was probably safe to mention it now. At least to her. For some reason he found it unlikely that anything he said to her might later be dragged up in an introduction to someone else. He would hardly call Miss Chang a confidante, but in terms of random women to converse with in ballrooms, she seemed safer than some.

"She was a Lestrange, too, that first one," he recalled. "So it's very fortunate it all worked out, because I've no doubt they would have had my head if I'd botched it somehow. Though if anyone could get a girl with feathers successfully married, it would probably be the Lestranges," he joked, a little under his breath so as to reduce the risk of being overheard; this was not the place to be heard insulting one of the most powerful families in Britain, and he didn't have his friendship with Cash to fall back on now as an excuse for over-familiarity.

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Set by Lady!

His grimace only drew a broader grin from Ida, who felt reassured by that sort of reaction. Someone more pompous might be happy to get all the credit, even where it wasn’t due. Mister Greengrass seemed a bit humble about whatever he did; it wasn’t a quality Ida necessarily looked for, but it was an indicator of a good human, she thought.

“Oh,” Her brown eyes widened slightly as he revealed that it was a Lestrange – she could see why. The Lestranges were one of the most prominent wizarding families, and even in brief passing encounters she could surmise that the vast majority had sticks up their butts. There was a fundamental difference between families like hers and theirs. A line she’ll certainly never broach, no matter how dolled up Poppy made her for these fancy balls. It’s not about one’s appearance. So his candid remark earned an small giggle, which was possibly the girliest sound Ida was capable of emitting (and she hated it). Her hand had gone to cover her mouth again.

“You’re probably right about that,” she agreed once recovered. Before them, it looked like the gallop they decided to miss was in full swing. It was with a pensive look at them that Ida idly commented, “I have a friend that just married into the Lestranges, actually,” though to be honest, she and Adrienne had fallen somewhat out of touch. The courtship and engagement – it all happened so quickly. With a slight frown, “It happened so quick. Though I suppose all the old families have their children’s fates arranged from the womb,” she sighed. The comment was thoughtless, but it hinted at how she felt– the hasty marriage bothered her, not that she had any reason to have any opinion on the matter at all. Perhaps it simply hit too close to home what her own fate might be, if she wasn’t careful around her father. Everyone was in such a rush with these things.

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stefanie made this beautiful set <3

Mentioning the Lestranges had been too risky, and not just because someone might overhear. It hadn't occurred to Ford that Miss Chang would have any experience with them to add to the conversation, and certainly not any experience with Cash — or, rather, with this wife.

"Adrienne Selwyn," he supplied before he could think better of it. He immediately regretted this, because it opened up a whole line of conversation about how he knew the new Mrs. Lestrange, and he didn't want to go down that line. Miss Chang had glanced at the dance floor a moment ago and Ford seized this as a possible escape, shifting his weight and angling his body towards the dance as though he actually cared to watch the gallop. He took a drink. Arranged from the womb, she said, and that was far too dangerous a remark to touch.

"I was at the wedding," he said, feeling the phrase out as he went like he was walking on a frozen lake and unsure if the ice would hold his weight. This felt safe; it referenced a connection without actually explaining anything. "Guest of the groom."

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Set by Lady!

Ida realized a second too late how her offhand comments could be interpreted (misconstrued?). Regardless of how friendly Mister Greengrass was, and that he opened the doors to commentary on the Lestranges, there are lines one has to be careful around. Certainly more wary than she had been, particularly in present company. The thought caused Ida to bite the inside of her lip, mind worriedly retracing its steps through the course of their conversation. The further back she went, the more concerned she became. Drat, she was being so foolish-- this was very unlike her…

The name of her friend eventually drew Ida out of her anxious tailspin. Any initial surprise that he knew Adrienne subsided as she understood that he and Adrienne's husband were friends. “Ah, so you've met her,” Ida stalled, unsure of what to say and regretting her commentary. Like any good friend, he probably hoped it was a happy match. “I’m sure it was a very lovely wedding,” she attempted, subconsciously mirroring Mister Greengrass in taking another sip of her drink.

Truth was, it was hard for Ida to disentangle the idea of marriage from asphyxiation (when I have fears that I may cease to be, her mind supplied grimly). It was harder still to shove back the leap of curiosity – did Mister Greengrass feel inspired to follow suit after his friend’s wedding? She hoped not, but just in case… After this dance, she really should waste no more of his time.

“You know, in China it is considered quite lucky if a ghoul shows up at a wedding,” she stretched to pivot. What better way than to bring things back to topics he’s interested in? (Of course, being too invested in his interests could send the wrong message as well, but it was a necessary gamble, given the current conversational emergency.) “A blessing from the ancestors, I suppose. We even have an entire Ghost Festival, once a year. It happens on a day when the spiritual and mortal realms are thought to be most connected.”

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   Fortitude Greengrass

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stefanie made this beautiful set <3

He hadn't, actually (met the new Mrs. Lestrange, that was), but he didn't bother correcting her. He was worried it might be telling (of what he didn't know, but of something) if he knew immediately which friend she was referring to without ostensibly having any actual connection to her. It was also probably telling that he and Cash were supposedly friends, and yet he'd gone months after the wedding without meeting his wife — and nevermind the engagement beforehand, and all of that.

"That wedding had enough ghosts as it was," he said, because he had to say something, and there was a chance she might take his statement at the superficial, literal level — maybe there had been a ghost or two in attendance, he honestly didn't know, but if she hadn't attended then it stood to reason that she didn't know, either. And this was better than telling her it hadn't been a lovely wedding, or trying to lie and say it had been. It was certainly better than telling her he did not believe Cash would see a blessing from his ancestors as any kind of good omen.

"Tell me more about the ghost festival," he said, angling his body back towards her slightly and feeling grateful for the change of subject.

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Set by Lady!

Ida didn’t take the comment literally, but then, if she didn’t take it literally she didn’t know what to make of it. Ghosts of what, she wondered, as her head tipped to the side in thought. Perhaps he was a poet afterall, speaking with this sort of vague metaphor. Had they really been friends, Ida would’ve pressed him on it. This was the sort of ambiguity that nagged at her mind until she knew. But they weren’t friends – probably never would be – and as a result, she held her tongue.

Whatever happened with Adrienne, they were never that close, so it was none of her business. Neither was it her business why Mister Greengrass seemed so keen on a new topic. There was no. reason. for Ida to invest so much thought here (yet she caught herself frowning at her glass all the same).

“It translates literally into the Hungry Ghosts festival,” she told him, finally looking up from her glass. “It’s thought that if families are diligent enough in nurturing their connection, even long-lost ancestors can make their way back to the mortal realm temporarily. I’ve never seen this phenomenon myself,” Ida felt compelled to clarify. Neither did she wish to, as she felt too conflicted about her mum’s death to know what to say if her spirit made it back. “In any case, families prepare offerings and prayers, burn incense, and leave spaces for their ancestors at the dinner table, that sort of thing. Many hold off on taking big decisions that year until they can hopefully consult with their ancestors.”

She took another sip of her wine, a way to look at Mister Greengrass curiously without being too obvious. After a beat, “As for the lost souls already trapped in the mortal realm, they are thought to get stronger. They can wander farther, some even smell and taste and touch again. It's advised to not swim, work with sharp objects, or stay out alone after dusk – lest any malevolent spirits choose to use the opportunity as a source of entertainment.”

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stefanie made this beautiful set <3

Ford listened with interest, but disappointment seeped in as she explained. "Oh, it's a Muggle festival," he remarked — that it the customs she was describing did not come from magical persons was evident in some of the inherent misconceptions about ghosts. No matter what night of the year it was or what rituals or magic had been performed, a spirit without a body was never capable of manipulating sharp objects or drowning someone. A poltergeist could have, but they weren't typically that malicious; they were beings of chaos and mischief, not evil and torment. The fact that it was Muggle didn't entirely dissipate his interest; Ford regularly went to seances and hauntings and spirit-talkers when he had spare time, because he loved seeing how Muggles interpreted these things and where they different from people who actually knew ghosts. He'd been more keenly intrigued at the prospect of a magical ghost-celebration, however, because it seemed so entirely unique. Muggles made up all sorts of things to do with spirits because they didn't know, and while it was fascinating to see what they came up with, it wasn't as much of a departure from the way things were done in England as it might have been if the festival in question had been magical.

"Have you heard of talking boards? They're popular across the pond. With Muggles," he clarified. "It's a board with letters on it and it's supposed to allow you to ask questions to spirits, and they move the indicator to spell out their answer. It's not — there's no evidence they work, and all the Muggles have their hands on the indicator the whole time so it's likely they don't at all, but it's the same sort of idea, being able to talk with people who are lost. Sometimes when spiritualists do it they ask whoever wants to ask questions for something like a connection... you know, bring a photograph of your dead husband and put it in the center of the table, that sort of thing. Though it's not really as though the connection has to be nurtured," he mused. "And there's reports of them contacting — allegedly, you know — old spirits that no one has any connection to at all, so I suppose that's a difference." He took a drink and wondered whether this sort of thing actually interested Miss Chang or not. Had she deduced that he would be interested and was trying to turn the conversation in a way that appealed to him? Was she feeling bored and only humoring him? Did it much matter?

"If you really could communicate with someone who had passed on," he asked, keeping his tone light — he intended this as the sort of question one might use as an ice-breaker in a conversation, not anything particularly deep — "Who would you talk to? If you could pick anyone."

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Set by Lady!

Ida was grateful, then, for the change in direction of their conversation. Made a mental note to herself to never talk about marriage or married people again, actually, because that was far too close to Candid Conversation about Futures. It also betrayed how nervous the whole thing made her, which would only reflect poorly in prospects or through gossip. No. Better to keep things focused on what her company likes.

Fortunately Ida was an intellectually curious type, and could find something intriguing to latch onto in most intelligible conversations that aren’t about the weather (though that, too, she could talk about – complain how humidity affects one’s potions, for example). “So you don’t think the muggles can talk to the spirits in that way?” she asked, intrigued to hear his take. She knew plenty of muggles who saw legitimate spirits – well, not saw them but felt them, sensed them maybe. And whether the person was magical or not, it was a cornerstone of her culture, to pray and connect with one’s ancestors.

It was on that train of thought that she shrugged at his question, “My mother,” she responded thoughtlessly. Though as soon as the words were out she instantly regretted it. This was not something she ordinarily spoke to even friends about, much less older brothers of peers at soirees. Ida tried to play off her remorse for saying something so personal with a careful sip of her wine – the better to play aloof with. Then she added hastily, “Though if you say anyone, well. Merlin, obviously. Or perhaps Rowena Ravenclaw.” Clawing back to bland safety, she inquired, “And how about you? If you could speak with anyone.”

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stefanie made this beautiful set <3

Fortunately since Ford had asked the question, he saw her return volley coming far enough in advance to prepare a response. It was even almost an honest one, though couched in enough humor not to be taken seriously: "My father, definitely," he replied with a shrug and a chuckle, as though it wasn't something he'd already given a great deal of thought to. "I'd ask him where the rest of my inheritance was hidden away."

More like: What were you thinking? When did it start? What happened? Why didn't you tell me? But it wasn't as though people could really speak to the dead, if they hadn't stayed on as spirits, so it didn't merit thinking about how his father might have answered. He'd never have answers to those questions, and it wouldn't have changed anything about his present situation if he had, so it wasn't worth lingering on.

"But no, I don't think it works," he continued, and took another drink. "It'd be interesting if it did, but I don't think it's possible. It would change everything we know about ghosts if we could talk to the people on the other side of things," he pointed out.

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Set by Lady!

Ida assumed this was a question he'd given a great amount of thought to, if only because he spent so much time with ghouls. He surely must have wondered. It was telling, then, that he gave her what felt like a very honest answer -- his father. So that makes two of them, with a piece of their minds they'd like to give their dearly departed. She laughed at what he'd ask, figuring it probably went deeper than that -- but they weren't friends, not really, so she wouldn't pry at what her intuition told her.

"I suppose it would only be possible if the person wasn't a muggle and was really a medium, though I can't say I've ever met a real one," she mused, unconsciously mirroring him with another sip of her drink. "I'm sure this is something the ministry takes a lot of interest in. Learning if they could commune with the dead. It would help them solve a lot of open cases, anyway," she added the last a bit more to herself than to her company. Her mind never lingered very far from the way Mister Hunt died, and the way they never figured out what happened. She shivered a bit despite herself.

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stefanie made this beautiful set <3

Ford nodded at her musings about mediums, though when she said the Ministry must take a keen interest he switched to an emphatic shake of his head. "There aren't many people at the Ministry interested in this sort of thing," he explained. "Sometimes it feels like half the Ministry forgets we even exist over in Spirit Division, so it's not as though they're keen on pulling useful information out of ghosts even when they're still here." He could see her point about the utility of being able to ask questions of murder victims, but sometimes he got the impression that aurors and other law enforcement types were more interested in having excuses to cast fancy offensive spells than solving mysteries. They hadn't been much help when Verity had been kidnapped, at any rate. And also, if his experience with spirits was any indication, he didn't know that the direct victims of crimes were necessarily the best positioned to provide information about what had happened.

"And spirits are notoriously bad at discussing their own death," he continued in a confidential tone, as though this were a trade secret he had decided to share rather than just idle conversation. "Even if they saw it happen — which isn't a given, you know, especially if they were injured or poisoned or sick or something, they might not have had all their senses working quite right when they died — there's too much emotion tied up in it for them to be a reliable narrator. So — sorry, are you alright?" he suddenly broke in, interrupting himself. He'd noticed her shiver a moment ago, but it had taken his brain a minute to recognize what it was and catch up to his mouth — a consequence of the conversation being a subject he was interested in. "You're not cold, are you?"

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Set by Lady!

“Really,” Ida intoned, a bit shocked to hear Mister Greengrass’s take about the Spirit Division. It seemed awfully short-sighted of the Ministry to take advantage of every venue for information at their disposal, but then again, she did not feel particularly confident in the Ministry nowadays. Not with the debacle of the Irvingly lockdown this summer, and now the ongoing murders with no arrests.

Ida found herself leaning in slightly as he went on in his between-us-chickens tone. If it was a tactic of his it was a sly one, because Ida didn’t even notice, her head nodding along in riveted understanding until he cut off his own thought with a question. Then she balked, and noticed how much she’d been invested in what he’d been saying. He’s perceptive, she thought, appraising him with a slow blink. Of course, she wasn’t going to tell him what was actually on her mind. Witnessing murders was too morbid a topic for a soiree, no matter what his job was.

“Oh, erm, just felt a slight draft,” she waved a hand nonchalant-like, giving a sheepish shake of the head. “Anyway, you were saying…?” she tried to divert. But then, the gallop came to its climatic finish, signaled by a round of applause from the onlookers. The witch glanced back to the couples dancing, and gave a half-hearted clap of her own. Well– she supposed they’d be up next, after a brief break for the band.

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stefanie made this beautiful set <3

Ford hadn't felt a chill, but he was hardly going to call her out on what might just as easily have been a genuine sentiment as a dodge. It wasn't as though he had any rights to press her for details on anything, given how superficially they were acquainted. In any case, the dance ending was a welcome distraction. He reached out to take her empty champagne glass and then cast around for a likely place to deposit them both in preparation for taking the floor.

"Well, this is sure to warm you up," he bantered. "A lot of spinning and skipping was your judgement of it, if I remember right." The phrase had stuck in his mind because of how earnest she was in her description; a step removed from the typical demure, all of my opinions are pleasant ones demeanor that debutantes often affected at these sorts of events. Spinning and skipping or not, it would likely leave both of them with some color in their cheeks by the end of the song. Having dropped off the champagne flutes on the tray of a passing waiter, Ford offered his arm to Miss Chang. "Shall we?"

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   Ida Chang

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Set by Lady!