February 14th, 1891 — Diagon Alley Post Office

Alfred didn't own a personal owl, which most of the time suited him just fine. He didn't really have the sort of lifestyle that supported pets, since he traveled so frequently and didn't have anyone at home to care for them in his absence. When he was out to sea he would have a small hoard of owls available for him to use, and when he was in port he could always use one of the owls the harbor-master kept in his office. He was rarely in need of an owl when there wasn't one readily available, and when he did have personal mail to send on a weekend he had no trouble making the short walk down to the Diagon Alley post office and renting one of theirs.

The letter he'd received from Zelda today was... well, she was obviously very angry, and Alfred had no idea why. Well, he had a faint, general idea, but she had not been this angry in her last letter, and he didn't know what had happened in the meantime. So he had walked all the way down to the post office to send her a slightly more formal version of what? which — was just silly, honestly. He wished he could just go talk to her and see why she was upset, but he was not on such good terms with the Fisks that they would entertain an unannounced visit. Even if he did get in the door, they would never allow him to have a conversation with her out of earshot of the rest of them. So this was what was left to him: writing a one-line letter, walking all the way to the post office, standing in line, paying for postage, and then just sitting around waiting for her to write him back. He didn't want to go home and wait, and potentially lose time in responding when he did get her letter — but he had no idea what to do with himself in the meantime.

He'd read everything the post office had posted on every wall, and chatted with the poor clerk who was clearly bored of him, and then retreated to doorway where he leaned on the frame and removed her letter from his pocket, reading it over again. Well, I thought you might have, especially seeing as my pointing out that I know exactly nothing about your friendship is apparently a "violation of privacy." But by all means act as if I am ridiculous for asking. Happy Valentine's Day. - Z. Fisk

What on earth had he done to deserve that?

He had just absently shoved the note back in his pocket when the door behind him opened. Alfred started away from the frame and glanced to see who had entered. "I'm not in line," he said, taking a step back out of their way.

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Pablo had recently acquired his own owl but the little guy was a stubborn git that snubbed him every time he tried to get the owl to actually do what he had ben intended for. Which meant a trip to the Diagon Alley post office was in order whenever he had to send out something.

The last thing that he had been expecting upon his arrival at the Post Office was the sight of a familiar disarray of dark curls. "Just sightseeing, then?" Pablo could not help but tease. It was Valentines Day and Pablo wondered to himself if Alfred was waiting some sort of word from the young woman he had begun courting.

With most womenfolk generally assuming him cannibal, heretic and/or heathen, Pablo had not had much luck in that regard. At least his luck with the menfolk fared a little better but even they tended to assume such things much to his amusement.

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   Cassius Lestrange, J. Alfred Darrow

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Alfred was surprised to see Pablo walk in to the post office, but a little relieved that it was him and not a stranger. He felt quite conspicuous loitering in the empty lobby on a Sunday and might have felt the need to explain himself, but how he might do it to anyone else was a bit beyond him. Pablo, though, was unlikely to judge. This was hardly the worst predicament the other man had seen him in.

"Got myself into trouble," he said with a shrug. "Waiting to see how much." He nodded vaguely at the collection of owls behind the desk, in case it wasn't clear from context that he was waiting on a letter.

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

"Ah, with your lady friend, I take it?" Pablo asked. If it was something ship or voyage related, he could see Alfred being just as anxious but he could sense that wasn't the sort of trouble his friend was in this time around. "So what precisely is it that you did that has you loitering in a post office on a Sunday, if you feel like sharing?" If Alfred didn't, Pablo would l likely be subtly persistent in trying to get it out of him since he had nothing better to do that day and this was infinitely more interesting than idling his day away.

  

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Alfred shook his head with a weary sigh. "Wish I knew," he said, nodding towards the owls once again. Of course, he had an idea, but not the specifics. He didn't mind telling Pablo, but he didn't know where to start. With the letter he'd received this morning? With the luncheon? With meeting Jo a year ago?

At that moment, an owl fluttered in through the large back window, swooped towards them, and dropped a letter at Alfred's feet. He bent to retrieve it eagerly and picked it up, but almost immediately on opening it the color drained from his cheeks.

"Oh, bollocks," he mumbled under his breath.

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Pablo hoped that Alfred knew he was willing to be a listening ear. He considered the man to be a very good friend and Pablo did not like to see his friends overly troubled.

Pablo watched on as an owl arrived, delivering the letter Alfred had been waiting for. He rose a questioning eyebrow as the color drained from Alfreds cheeks. "What's happened now? Gotten in deeper trouble?"

  

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"'T'would appear so," Alfred said with a heavy sigh. After taking a moment to reread the letter (a very short moment; it wasn't long) he passed it to Pablo for him to see: No, you didn't. She did, though.

"Never a good sign when it's that short," he remarked. If she was going to give him so little to go on, she really could have written a little faster, couldn't she? He'd been in the post office waiting for an age, and he'd gotten two lines in response.

"She's worried about Jo Smith," he said, shaking his head again. "And apparently they've been talking about it, and now I'm in trouble."

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Pablo read the letter and was surprised at how short and curt it was. She definitely was angry, without a doubt.

"Jo Smith?" He repeated as he tried to piece together what was happening with the context clues he had been given so far. "What does she mean by 'she did, though'? Did you and Jo Smith do something that Miss Fisk might have wanted to hear from you or something?" That was what his current guess was from the words said in the very brief letter.

  

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Of course Pablo couldn't have pieced together the whole story, Alfred realized, because the letter was basically nonexistent and he hadn't given him a wealth of other context clues. "Sorry," he said, backtracking slightly. "Not much to go on there, is there? But the short answer is no, we haven't done anything, but yes, Zelda thinks we might've. And apparently Jo Smith told her..." he drifted off long enough to retrieve Zelda's earlier letter from his pocket. "...that talking about it was a violation of privacy," he concluded, with a sour look at the parchment.

He let out another long breath and shoved both letters back into his pockets. "So I suppose I've got to write to Jo now and find out what she said."

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

A violation of privacy? Pablo could see why Miss Fisk might not think much of that being said to her if she had thoughts that something more than mere friendship was going on. "That probably made it sound worse than it all is to Miss Fisk," Pablo said, wincing in sympathy. "Do you think, perhaps, that Miss Fisk assumes you purposely kept your friendship with Jo Smith a secret from her, maybe? How did they come to end up writing to one another about it all, anyway? This all sounds like something to be untangled in person."

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   J. Alfred Darrow

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"If I thought I had half a chance of getting into their parlor, I'd be on my way already," Alfred agreed. Sending these curt little letters back and forth was helping no one, and he was getting tired of killing time in the post office waiting for more angry mail. This would have been so easy to clear up in person, particularly since they'd done nothing wrong. His odds of ever being allowed enough time alone with Zelda to have a frank conversation about it, however, were slim to none. The last time he'd been able to talk freely with Zelda had been at Christmas, and he'd literally planned it weeks in advance. He didn't really want to leave Zelda stewing and angry for the next six weeks while he tried to work out how he could talk to her again.

"It's — complicated," Alfred continued, though it wasn't, particularly; it was just a story he didn't care to recount. It wasn't that he wanted to keep it from Pablo, necessarily, only that it had been too embarrassing when he'd lived through it for him to relish the idea of recounting it to anyone. But he couldn't really explain any of this without mentioning it, so...

He sighed, then glanced at the post office desk to make sure the clerk wasn't near enough to overhear. "There was some magical tomfoolery at a party we were at, and she might've gotten the idea that we were attracted to each other. I thought we'd gotten over it right there in the moment, but then Jo sent her a letter afterwards and I've no idea what exactly she said." Speaking of which, he was losing time here reliving the embarrassments of Sunday when he could have had an owl off to Jo already.

"I'm going to write her. Give me a second," he said, approaching the counter again and paying a small fee to use their quill and parchment.

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

None of Alfreds romantic situation was ideal. Pablo did not envy him one single bit. Not being able to go to your lady and explain things in person certainly did sound complicated.

"I heard about that. The party, that is. Not your friend sending letters to your lady," it probably didn't need explaining but he was now minorly invested. His own purpose for being at the post office in the first place was utterly forgotten. He nodded, taking out a cigarette to idle the time as Alfred went to the counter.

  

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Alfred scratched off a letter to Jo, then moved back to were Pablo was lingering. "Can I have one of those?" he asked, nodding towards the cigarettes. He didn't smoke habitually, but he would have done just about anything at the moment to give him something to do besides just killing time and waiting for a response.

"Things were... so much easier before we were courting," he remarked, shaking his head. "I hate England, sometimes."

He trusted Pablo would knew what he meant when he said England; all of this stupid shit they had to put up with, and all the rules they had to follow. The tribe they'd lived with in South America had been a lot less fussed about this sort of thing, so while Alfred was capable of playing along he always did so with the firm belief that it was ridiculous.

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Pablo got out a spare cigarette for Alfred and handed it over. He was midly aware of how odd it probably was for two men to be standing around waiting. Especially when the letters flurrying back and forth had nothing to do with Pablo. Aside from being support for Alfred, anyway.

"Watching you makes me think that if I meet a lady I wish to court, I really should give it a second or third thought." He had done much better than Alfred in acclimating back into society but... that probably wasn't saying much.

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   J. Alfred Darrow

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"Yeah, skip it," Alfred agreed with a nod. He tucked the cigarette into his mouth, then started a spark with his hand and a muttered word. He didn't typically use the wandless magic he'd learned from the tribe when he was out in public — it bothered people to see something so strange — but it wasn't as though Pablo was going to care. When he was alone, he preferred it over having to find his wand anyway, so it came more naturally to him than a spell did.

"If you find a girl you like that much, just marry her straight off," he advised. What he wouldn't give to be able to do that with Zelda.

The following 1 user Likes J. Alfred Darrow's post:1 user Likes J. Alfred Darrow's post
   Pablo Medina

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

"Never thought I would see the day that I take love advice from you," Pablo said in jest. Really, though. Whatever was going on with Alfred seemed to be a lot of drama and Pablo was generally not about that life. Though he was mature enough to know that he would think differently if it was him that was in love with someone. "I think if this goes on any longer, it would be worthwhile for you to invest in an owl of your own."

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The following 1 user Likes Pablo Medina's post:1 user Likes Pablo Medina's post
   J. Alfred Darrow

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