January 25th, 1891 - Irvingly Casino
For most of the way there, Art could pretend that he was going somewhere else. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his jacket; it was entirely plausible that he would try to head to the Howler's Pitch (he didn't have his broom) or the Irvingly Arms (he didn't want to drink) or simply to Chance D'Amour (Art had never, actually, been inside.)
Today had been - complicated and difficult and tiring. There was Ben's panic in the living room; their increasingly-stressed journey through the potioneers and apothecaries and sketchy-object stores of Knockturn Alley; the weird conversation in the living room with Melody Crouch. He hadn't left a note for Desdemona. In the moment, Art had justified it by thinking that they didn't have time. In terms of being an adult, he had done well, today - he had been exactly what Ben needed him to be, today, or at least as close to what Ben needed as Art could give. Good job, Arthur.
He knew the route from Ben's house to the casino, not because he had been there since Ben had moved to Irvingly, but because Art's brain still tracked Irvingly's streets in relationship to their proximity to the casino. It was easy enough, to track the route there; of course he already knew it, because he always had.
He found himself in front of the casino's main doors as if in a trance. Seven years. He hadn't used the casino's gambling facilities since before he caught the laughing plague, in 1884 - seven years since he had placed a bet or played cards for stakes or tried to earn back money. Seven years. Art's palms itched in his pockets.
That was longer than he'd spent losing money, after leaving Hogwarts. He had a bank account with Desdemona now, they rented their house, they had a very small staff that cleaned up and helped care for Gwenog. Good job, Arthur. He was an adult and a father and as far removed from the teenager he'd been as anyone could expect him to ever be. He was, practically, a different person now.
If he was a different person, he ought to be able to go in. (The occasional Quidditch party didn't count, wasn't the same - he had never gambled with those people, anyways.)
He stared up at the entrance for too long. Do or die, Arthur - were things different, or not?
Arthur sighed and rolled his shoulders back and walked through the front doors of the casino. Maybe he would just walk through, use the floo network here - that was something he could do. Just because he was here did not mean he had to gamble. His heart rate kicked up as soon as he was in there - there was something about a casino on a Monday evening. It was different than it was during Quidditch parties, or whatever - the people in today were committed, they knew what they were doing, some of them could even count cards. It was as much of a sport as Quidditch was.
He pretended he was leaving until he walked past the entrance for the floo network and over to the table to play Hazard. Hazard wasn't a card game, it was a dice game - that was good, wasn't it? As long as he avoided cards, and betting on horses or boxing matches, he wasn't doing anything that had ever gotten him in real trouble.
It was by chance that Lachlan MacFusty was there; Art had not intended to find him. "MacFusty," Art said, with a nod, "Can I get in on this?"
Lachlan MacFusty Holly Scrimgeour
Today had been - complicated and difficult and tiring. There was Ben's panic in the living room; their increasingly-stressed journey through the potioneers and apothecaries and sketchy-object stores of Knockturn Alley; the weird conversation in the living room with Melody Crouch. He hadn't left a note for Desdemona. In the moment, Art had justified it by thinking that they didn't have time. In terms of being an adult, he had done well, today - he had been exactly what Ben needed him to be, today, or at least as close to what Ben needed as Art could give. Good job, Arthur.
He knew the route from Ben's house to the casino, not because he had been there since Ben had moved to Irvingly, but because Art's brain still tracked Irvingly's streets in relationship to their proximity to the casino. It was easy enough, to track the route there; of course he already knew it, because he always had.
He found himself in front of the casino's main doors as if in a trance. Seven years. He hadn't used the casino's gambling facilities since before he caught the laughing plague, in 1884 - seven years since he had placed a bet or played cards for stakes or tried to earn back money. Seven years. Art's palms itched in his pockets.
That was longer than he'd spent losing money, after leaving Hogwarts. He had a bank account with Desdemona now, they rented their house, they had a very small staff that cleaned up and helped care for Gwenog. Good job, Arthur. He was an adult and a father and as far removed from the teenager he'd been as anyone could expect him to ever be. He was, practically, a different person now.
If he was a different person, he ought to be able to go in. (The occasional Quidditch party didn't count, wasn't the same - he had never gambled with those people, anyways.)
He stared up at the entrance for too long. Do or die, Arthur - were things different, or not?
Arthur sighed and rolled his shoulders back and walked through the front doors of the casino. Maybe he would just walk through, use the floo network here - that was something he could do. Just because he was here did not mean he had to gamble. His heart rate kicked up as soon as he was in there - there was something about a casino on a Monday evening. It was different than it was during Quidditch parties, or whatever - the people in today were committed, they knew what they were doing, some of them could even count cards. It was as much of a sport as Quidditch was.
He pretended he was leaving until he walked past the entrance for the floo network and over to the table to play Hazard. Hazard wasn't a card game, it was a dice game - that was good, wasn't it? As long as he avoided cards, and betting on horses or boxing matches, he wasn't doing anything that had ever gotten him in real trouble.
It was by chance that Lachlan MacFusty was there; Art had not intended to find him. "MacFusty," Art said, with a nod, "Can I get in on this?"
![[Image: AAgFt3c.png]](https://i.imgur.com/AAgFt3c.png)
set by MJ <3