Basil found that sometimes it was difficult for him to transition from (mostly) self-sufficient Transfiguration professor to completely reliant upper class gentleman, moreso now that he was here with Lissing. Where in his quarters is was so natural to simply make himself - or Gus that one time - a cup of tea, here in public, or away from Hogwarts, it was the maid’s role, wasn’t it? To take care of them? He couldn’t help but want to be the one to do it, even if brewing a cup of tea was the only thing in the world Basil knew how to make for himself. He didn’t have much of a chance to correct the situation however because the floo went off and Basil turned to see none other than Figueroa Lissington appear. And the reception was frosty… Basil squirmed a little bit in place, unsure of the reason for any undertones of hostility, but not blaming her regardless. He’d known she was going to be here today— hell if she hadn’t been, he’d have been shocked. He’d also been expecting a little bit of this, if Atticus’ reaction to Gus was any indication of sibling reactions. But… he’d always gotten along with Figueroa. She’d even sent him a pastry last February that he’d conveniently forgotten to indulge in. Basil had honestly hoped they might look past… whatever this was.
He wasn’t sure these days how much Figueroa knew about, well, their situation either. He and Gus hadn’t spoken for weeks before the abrupt departure from normal a few days ago. They hadn’t spoken much in the days between then either, not about them at least. Basil didn’t know what if anything Figueroa might know about their past, and how up to date she was kept in the interim. Warmth flooded Basil under the collar at the thought and he paled a little bit as she addressed him.
“Figueroa,” he greeted, trying to be cheery. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” His words were swallowed by Gus’ next action, drawing the tiny redhead into a hug. Tangled up together like that they looked almost like twins. Basil felt the keen loss of Gus’ presence beside him, cold now, but he kept his distance giving the siblings a private moment. He was surprised however when the floor flashed into green flames again. Grey hues turned in the direction of this newest intruder and Basil zero’d in on the fact that Figueroa had said ‘we’ when she’d stepped out of the fireplace. She was likely married. That made sense. The figure that tumbled out however, did not. Basil’s brows creased almost immediately.
“Edmund?!”
The exclamation was a knee jerk reaction more than a conscious declaration of recognition. Why in bloody Merlin’s name was his cousin, Edmund Foxwood, stepping out of the fireplace in Bartonburg at the Lissington’s family home for a funeral?! Shock and incredulity were scrawled most ungallantly across Basil’s face as the aforementioned gentleman brushed himself off quietly and moved to join the little party. He had an awkward look on his face already, somewhat flabbergasted himself, and paused to stand just to the side of the hugging siblings.
“Ah, Basil,” he greeted, stiffly. “We didn’t expect to see you here…”
There was that ‘we’ again. Basil blinked quickly, remembering his manners, and reached out to shake his cousin’s hand. “Nor I you,” he replied, honestly. Before Basil could ask why Edmund was here, and why he and Figueroa kept saying ‘we’ as if they were intentional, the brunette finally realized: Figueroa Lissington was married. To Edmund blessed Foxwood! The shock was enough to make him absently reach for Gus, only to realize the other was not there.
Pointedly tucking his hands deep into his front pockets, Basil opened his mouth to say something but nothing materialized. He cleared his throat to try again, mind reeling. Still, nothing. In the end, Basil just turned a helpless look towards Gus, willing him to say something instead because there was no version of this conversation that he was able to facilitate!