Lach hummed in agreement, all the while his mind trying to conjure up an image of the culprit. He was probably small and scrawny, as small on the outside as his heart was on the inside. It was only a small man, a weak man, who tried to end a woman's life, auror or not. And to target her again—he'd have to know that she'd survived the initial attempt, know what she'd gone through. He'd never been to Azkaban, but he hoped the cells were cold as ice.
Her admission startled him. "A fear of... fire?" he asked, brows creased with concern. He could understand a fear of snow or ice, or even cold, but fire? Assuming he wasn't blacked out for a portion of their time in the tundra (a real possibility) he couldn't anything from their time that would cause such a fear. She mentioned watching the fire in the cave, but he'd been there and came out without such a fear. He wondered the true magnitude of the mental strain their arctic adventure had put on her. "What do you intend to do if they don't clear you?" He couldn't envision Fallon as a desk worker; she was too physical, too hands-on. She was capable, too, and to see her out of the force would be a shame.
At least he had a backup plan, even if it wasn't the same. Dragonkeeping provided little to no competition except between the MacFusty men itself. There was a thrill, but one caused by the danger of dragons, not the fun of flying. It was a lonesome job, too, and though Lachlan had always insisted he could function well alone or in a group, he didn't fancy the idea of his day-to-day interactions being limited to those he shared blood with.
"Not buts," he said quietly. "I don't know if I can go back. It's too much all at once. I'm past the natural age for retirement, anyways. It's time I start being a real man, don't you think?" Real men had real jobs. Anything he was qualified to do paid better than quidditch, even if it brought him less joy. Dragon-keeping was not an especially lucrative career, but it would help keep his family afloat into the next generation.
Her admission startled him. "A fear of... fire?" he asked, brows creased with concern. He could understand a fear of snow or ice, or even cold, but fire? Assuming he wasn't blacked out for a portion of their time in the tundra (a real possibility) he couldn't anything from their time that would cause such a fear. She mentioned watching the fire in the cave, but he'd been there and came out without such a fear. He wondered the true magnitude of the mental strain their arctic adventure had put on her. "What do you intend to do if they don't clear you?" He couldn't envision Fallon as a desk worker; she was too physical, too hands-on. She was capable, too, and to see her out of the force would be a shame.
At least he had a backup plan, even if it wasn't the same. Dragonkeeping provided little to no competition except between the MacFusty men itself. There was a thrill, but one caused by the danger of dragons, not the fun of flying. It was a lonesome job, too, and though Lachlan had always insisted he could function well alone or in a group, he didn't fancy the idea of his day-to-day interactions being limited to those he shared blood with.
"Not buts," he said quietly. "I don't know if I can go back. It's too much all at once. I'm past the natural age for retirement, anyways. It's time I start being a real man, don't you think?" Real men had real jobs. Anything he was qualified to do paid better than quidditch, even if it brought him less joy. Dragon-keeping was not an especially lucrative career, but it would help keep his family afloat into the next generation.
— way too attractive set by mj <3 —