Gus couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as he considered the last time he actually saw Endymion – he’d invited him over under the guise of snacks, but had conned him into helping him find a puzzle box. They’d talked about a few things, mostly joking, but he couldn’t recall him ever speaking about his sisters’ interest. “I can’t say that he has. The only time we’ve really spoken about sisters is to trade stories.” He shrugged, although it was a common fact that Gus adored his little sister – Fig had been sorted into Hufflepuff two years after him and he’d been the one to embarrass her by nearly tackling her when she’d bounced over to join them.
“Were you the one who got cursed by the Pictish comb a few years ago?” A joke, and he beamed at her as he laughed again, shaking his head.
Nodding, Gus’ grin widened before he leaned forward toward her. “No, no. I’m quite interested, Miss Dempsey.” His fingers tapped against the side of the teacup before he finally spoke. “Although let me preface by saying most curse breakers are prone to embellishment, and I can’t say I’m the exception. I don’t lie, or well, I try not to.” He sheepishly grinned as he released the mug in favor of rubbing the back of his neck. Sometimes it just made the story more interesting, and sometimes Gus just couldn't help himself. (Other times he mixed up events because places blurred together after a while.) “Although whatever you’re going to write is probably more creative than whatever kind of tale I could spin.”
“Were you the one who got cursed by the Pictish comb a few years ago?” A joke, and he beamed at her as he laughed again, shaking his head.
Nodding, Gus’ grin widened before he leaned forward toward her. “No, no. I’m quite interested, Miss Dempsey.” His fingers tapped against the side of the teacup before he finally spoke. “Although let me preface by saying most curse breakers are prone to embellishment, and I can’t say I’m the exception. I don’t lie, or well, I try not to.” He sheepishly grinned as he released the mug in favor of rubbing the back of his neck. Sometimes it just made the story more interesting, and sometimes Gus just couldn't help himself. (Other times he mixed up events because places blurred together after a while.) “Although whatever you’re going to write is probably more creative than whatever kind of tale I could spin.”