Cash smiled back; the concept of the Ministry was a little more appealing if he knew people who weren't related to him there, and maybe he could even survive it. There were worse things, than working at the Ministry - he could survive being bored, and maybe there was something interesting there, even. His eyebrows raised in mild alarm at Greengrass' next comment - they were back to Quidditch now, were they?

"Yes, I suppose," Cash said, with no intention of staying on the Cannons past this season. He couldn't verbalize that to Greengrass before he said it to Gallivan, though, so there was no point in bringing it up. Especially since things were so complicated. "But it's always hard to tell what will happen in the long run with sport." Sporting injuries had to be a thing in the muggle world too, right? Probably.

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"Oh," commented Ford, because this had not actually occurred to him. He didn't think of Quidditch as a dangerous sort of occupation. The last Quidditch match he'd been to had been in school (honestly, Lestrange might have even been playing), so in his head it was sort of bound up in the same realm as potion brewing competitions and gobstones and wizard's chess. Some of Ford's coworkers talked to vampires and hunted werewolves. That sort of stuff was dangerous; Quidditch was a game.

It really ought to have occurred to him, though, because of course he knew what had happened at the Quidditch World Cup. Lestrange had been on that team, too, hadn't he? So it was probably at the forefront of his mind, even, which made Ford feel self- conscious and thoughtless for not having anticipated that response.

"Of course. Sorry," he said, turning his attention back to the food. "Well. I hope you don't." He probably should have specified — get hurt? die? quit Quidditch? — but failed to do so.

  

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Cash felt bad for having used that as his throwaway excuse; maybe he should have said something about getting married, as an eventuality rather than a hopefully-soon. "I mean, it's never happened before," Cash said, with a crooked smile, in a rare-for-Cash attempt to lighten the mood, "So as long as I don't get thrown off the -" oh fuck, not broomstick, that was the witchiest thing imaginable, what could he say? "- horse, I think I'll be all right."

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The following 2 users Like Cassius Lestrange's post:2 users Like Cassius Lestrange's post
   Ellory Lestrange, Fortitude Greengrass

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MJ made this!

Ford smiled at the reassurance, though it was a more muted smile than the ones that had featured earlier in the conversion. He still felt bad for having brought it up, but Lestrange didn't seem overly affected... presumably if the thought of Quidditch matches made him frequently contemplate his impending demise, he would have already found another occupation.

The word horse tugged the corner of his mouth up a bit farther. He wondered what sport the Muggles thought they were talking about. Ford didn't know of any off the top of his head that involved both horses and team captains. He was far from an expert on any kind of sport, Muggle or otherwise, but he had taken Muggle Studies in school. Maybe... polo? Was that a team sport with horses?

"Well, let's hope your horseback skills hold up," he teased, quite amused by the mental image of a bunch of men trying to play Quidditch on horseback. "You're lucky to have had so much practice."

He was briefly reminded of his tension-laden conversation with Dorian Fisk about Quidditch practice, but pushed it back out of mind. There had been all sorts of tension during the Sonata, and Ford didn't particularly want to recreate it now that he'd finally put it out of mind.

  

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Cash smirked at the teasing, pleased that they seemed to have moved past the topic of death at least for now. "Yeah, you're right, it's lucky I've spent so much time at the stable," Cash said. He had never actually ridden a horse; what was the point of a horse when broomsticks were so much better, and when he had almost no interest in hunting?

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Ford couldn't help but giggle as the conversion escalated from horses to stables. This likely made the Muggles think he was a bit off, but nevermind what they thought so long as they weren't breaking the statute of secrecy.

One of them did take that moment to clear his throat, though, which signaled their conversation topic turning back towards the manor and the ghosts that supposedly haunted it. Presumably side conversations were fine, but giggling was not in keeping with the tone they were trying to set for the evening. Ford did his best to look appropriately somber through the rest of their speeches. When they finally left for the evening ("We'll be back at first light. Stay inside until then — no matter what you hear!") however, his facade immediately broke.

"Alright," he said, as his laughter subsided. "Did you do that on purpose? Asking me about work in front of them?"

  

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He managed to hold it together through the rest of the muggles' story, and kept his reactions to the occasional glance at Greengrass until they left, saying they'd be back at dawn. That was a little earlier than Cash was usually a person, but he didn't expect to get much sleep tonight - they had a whole supposedly-haunted manor to explore, and maybe they'd get lucky and it was cursed - and he could always go back to sleep when he got back to London, and before practice.

"I mean, not at first," Cash admitted with a grin. He tugged the bottle of wine out of his bag. "But once I realized that I shouldn't have, a little. Not like you asking me about Hogwarts classes, though, Merlin."

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"Yeah, well, you deserved it," Ford shot back with a grin. The original question might have been an innocent mistake, but after that he could have pocketed the questions for later, instead of asking follow-ups to clarify. "I mean, 'people who like to spend their time at night'?" he repeated, shaking his head. "You couldn't have really thought I worked with vampires. I mean, look at me," he joked, with a vague wave over his torso. He was not particular formidable, which was one reason to avoid beings who wanted to kill him. His only defense against a vampire would be that he didn't look that appetizing, so they might not think it was worth the legal trouble of killing him. Which... might have been enough, but Ford didn't feel the need to test the theory anytime soon.

"They could eat me and still be hungry for dessert," he concluded, shaking his head again and still smiling.

  

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Cash laughed. He was going to say something witty, but was a little delayed by Greengrass' wave over his torso, and his comment about eating. Greengrass was a lot taller than Cash - or, like, half a foot, which counted as a lot - but he was lank and bookish, and certainly looked like someone a vampire would consider a snack rather than a full meal, with those long eyelashes and the dark curls.

"Yeah, well," he said, "All I could think of was vampires or veela, who would - also, probably, eat you for breakfast."

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Ford had not even considered veela, although they were technically under the domain of his department, too. There weren't that many of them in England, though — they weren't native to this region, so the ones that did live here were... uh, domesticated, so to speak, instead of out in the wild. Which mostly meant that they didn't need much attention from the Ministry, since they were just supposed to be sitting around at home driving their husbands crazy, or... whatever. Ford didn't really get the appeal. He hadn't ever interacted with a veela before and knew, academically, that if he ever did he would want her, but — those men that married veela had to be out of their wives' company sometimes, right? What on earth could make anyone decide that it was worth it to walk back into a situation like that, where you didn't have full control over your impulses?

"Veela, yikes," Ford said, shaking his head. Most of the time veela didn't need much attention from the Ministry, but when they did, things tended to get very messy. The fire-breathing bird monster thing, and the fact that you couldn't actually send men to try and contain them because they'd get — distracted. "I'd take the vampires over them, I think."

  

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"Yeah," Cash agreed, "At least a vampire just wants to eat you. A veela -" he shrugged. "That's something else." He couldn't imagine Greengrass facing off against one; Greengrass was too enthusiastic to handle a veela, and the thought of it made Cash feel sort of distantly protective. He tugged the cork out of the bottle of wine and considered: should they conjure glasses, or -?

"Do you want to explore outside?" he asked. They could drink from the bottle and walk around, maybe - Cash was a little unnaturally graceful, but he felt like Greengrass could manage it, especially if they illuminated their wands.

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The following 1 user Likes Cassius Lestrange's post:1 user Likes Cassius Lestrange's post
   Fortitude Greengrass

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MJ made this!

Oh, wine — this seemed like an excellent addition to the evening, and Ford's eyes lit up with a bit of mischief at Lestrange's suggestion.

"Outside?" he asked, with overdrawn mock alarm. "Before daylight? But what if we're devoured by wolves?" He could not keep his pretended fright up through the entirety of this comment and ended up laughing lightly by the end of it. Honestly, though, it sounded like a great idea. It was bound to be a well-lit night, with the moon they'd seen earlier, so they couldn't get into too much trouble. The worst that could happen was that they might stumble across some of the Muggles preparing whatever frights they were meant to experience tonight — Ford had little doubt that this was actually why they'd warned them to stay inside, to add an element of control to their experience — but it was probably too early for anything like that. They'd give them an hour or so, at least, to settle in and work themselves up before they started anything spooky.

"We'll just have to watch out for the Muggles," he cautioned. "I don't think they're really gone. Unless there actually are spirits here," he said with a shrug. He hadn't seen any evidence of it so far, and this sort of thing was his job, but you never knew. Ghosts were, as he had stated earlier, hard to pin down, sometimes.

The following 1 user Likes Fortitude Greengrass's post:1 user Likes Fortitude Greengrass's post
   Cassius Lestrange

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"I think we can avoid them," Cash said brightly, because he did. He took a long drawn sip from the bottle of wine and extended it in offering to Greengrass. "The muggles, that is, not the wolves." He smirked. Maybe they'd actually find something haunted outside - a poltergeist, or a cursed object, or something - but he didn't think it particularly likely - it was more that they would be wandering around the outskirts of a manor neither of them knew that was sort of exciting.

And they'd need their coats, off the hooks; it was sure to be colder now than it had been when they'd walked here.

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Ford took the bottle when offered, and took a measured pull from it. He did his best to match Lestrange. Wine seemed fun, but he wanted to make sure he wasn't outpacing the other man. Partly it was that he didn't want to look a fool, if he had too much to drink. Partly, he wanted to ensure that if they ended up doing anything stupid tonight, they were at least working from the same level of stupid.

"Alright, well I can protect you from ghosts," he joked (obviously a joke; as though working in the spirit division qualified him to protect anyone from anything). "But if we're set upon by wolves, I'm leaving it all to you."

  

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"Alright, you have a deal," Cash joked, as if he could successfully protect Greengrass from wolves. He could try, maybe. He tugged his coat on. "Bring the bottle?" Cash asked, on their way out into the entry hallway and out the front door of the manor. It was dark, outside, except for the bright white glow of the almost-full moon - and the wind whipped around the building, cutting into the gap between Cash's collar and his neck. He shivered, and glanced behind him.

"Which way, since you're the spirit expert?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at Greengrass.

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Bringing the bottle meant his hand was going to be frozen stiff by the time they got back inside, because the gloves he had were too thin for this sort of weather, but he nodded all the same. They'd have all night by a fire to warm up, or magic to speed things along, so a little cold wasn't the end of the world. And he wasn't going to say no if Lestrange wanted to wander around in the dark drinking wine from an open bottle. That was a very particular kind of tone he was setting, and Ford didn't want to derail things. Especially not if Lestrange was still hoping to be scared.

"Is that a serious question?" Ford asked as he slipped through the front door. It was a large, heavy door; the sort not meant to open easily or often. Hopefully it didn't shut too heavily behind them and lock them out.

"Some Muggles think spirits are more attracted to water. So if you believed in all this and wanted to find one, I suppose that way," he said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the water (or where he thought he remembered the ocean laying in relation to the town when they'd flooed in; he could have gotten turned around by now). "But if you're trying to avoid Muggles who believe those things, I guess we ought to head the opposite direction."

He paused, pulling his coat tighter around him. "I don't think there's anything to that theory about the water, by the way. At least, I've never met a ghost who's mentioned it."

  

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