Cash trusted him. Ford swallowed at the words. He supposed Lestrange had meant them as a gesture of good will, but it made his stomach sink a little bit all the same. It was a lot of responsibility, and it was responsibility in an area where he had no idea what he was doing, which was sort of a running theme in his life, Ford supposed. He didn't have Noble to lean on here, though (and maybe shouldn't have leaned on Noble so much to begin with). He wouldn't have anyone, because he'd already promised Cash not to tell anyone, and it was obvious that Cash wasn't going to be of much assistance himself. This was just going to be Ford shouldering the burden of trying to mend Cash's broken heart, because the way things were currently was unsustainable and he couldn't just turn and walk away from it all. It would just be Ford, because there was no one else to do it. There was no reason it should have been — probably anyone would have done a better job of it, and any number of people would have been more deserving of Cash's trust, but it was going to be him all the same because there wasn't anyone else it could be, at this point.
And what if it made things worse? Ford looked down at his curry and used his spoon to push what was left of it around his bowl. Worse than creating a dementor overnight? Ford thought, then frowned. That sort of comment wouldn't be particularly helpful at the moment, though it was hard to imagine that things could get any worse from here.
"Yeah, it might," he admitted. He'd already told Cash he didn't know what he was doing, so affecting some sort of bravado about this now seemed inappropriate. "If it does, we can try something else. We'll — we'll probably want to talk pretty regularly," he added, glancing up at Cash across the table briefly. Because I wouldn't trust you to tell me if things were getting worse, he thought, but he wasn't going to say it. It had nothing to do with Cash, after all — it was just what he was dealing with, and the feeling Ford had that if it started to get worse the first thing to go would be Cash's ability to recognize that it was getting worse.
"We can meet at the club on whatever nights you don't have Quidditch," he suggested, with a shrug to indicate that he wasn't particularly attached to the idea if Lestrange had any better suggestions. After a slight pause, he added, "We don't need to talk about this. We can just talk."
Set by Lady!
And what if it made things worse? Ford looked down at his curry and used his spoon to push what was left of it around his bowl. Worse than creating a dementor overnight? Ford thought, then frowned. That sort of comment wouldn't be particularly helpful at the moment, though it was hard to imagine that things could get any worse from here.
"Yeah, it might," he admitted. He'd already told Cash he didn't know what he was doing, so affecting some sort of bravado about this now seemed inappropriate. "If it does, we can try something else. We'll — we'll probably want to talk pretty regularly," he added, glancing up at Cash across the table briefly. Because I wouldn't trust you to tell me if things were getting worse, he thought, but he wasn't going to say it. It had nothing to do with Cash, after all — it was just what he was dealing with, and the feeling Ford had that if it started to get worse the first thing to go would be Cash's ability to recognize that it was getting worse.
"We can meet at the club on whatever nights you don't have Quidditch," he suggested, with a shrug to indicate that he wasn't particularly attached to the idea if Lestrange had any better suggestions. After a slight pause, he added, "We don't need to talk about this. We can just talk."
Set by Lady!