February 26th, 1889 - Gibson's Books

Arthur did not make a habit out of hanging out in bookshops. This was probably not a surprise. However, this bookshop belonged to Gordon so although he found them deeply boring as a concept, Arthur was happy to sit near the front of the bookstore and drink a beer while he waited for Gordon to close up the shop. The plan for the evening was that they had no plan, but Art was essentially a social creature - he didn't much care what they did after this.

The topic was, as the topic often was these days, the Quidditch World Cup. "I don't know if I'll try out," Arthur said, a sentence he had started to verbalize lately, but one that still left the taste of ash in his mouth. The thing was, Quidditch was moving past him. He was turning thirty-one in less than a month. Fitz was retired, as was much of their cohort. He could try out for the team, but he might not make it - and if he didn't make the team after captaining it the last time Britain hosted, that was a shame Arthur wasn't quite ready for.

It might be time to retire.

He had no plans for after he retired.

He took a sip of his beer. "But of course it's a rare opportunity to have us host it again so soon. So I haven't really decided."

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