Yeah, of course he hadn’t.
So he shouldn’t even be here, because what good was he going to be at practice later? And now he was trying to make light of it, and Theo wanted to sail through this blithely too, but, much as he tried, he couldn’t quite dislodge the frown.
And who knew whether this, whatever was going on, was something he ought to be more concerned about from a professional standpoint as the Cannons’ sponsor, or as his - friend, or both at once? But in any case Theo had the distinct feeling he should be worried. Or, too late, already: he was worried about this. (Not that his concern was much help - actually it was pretty dire, really - because in recent years Theo had been spectacularly unsuccessful at tackling his own problems, never mind anyone else’s.)
Maybe Lestrange wasn’t going to explain anything about what had happened, or maybe he was, but the question of how to cross that bridge was also fairly useless to him until he’d at least glimpsed it. So. Theo swallowed, trying to find an easier way around than confronting the question head-on. “I said you were ill,” he offered, “yesterday.” With a shrug, he shut his mouth and left the sentence hanging there - a little expectantly, making room for him to elaborate if he was here to; but also hopefully sounding offhand enough, if he wasn’t.
So he shouldn’t even be here, because what good was he going to be at practice later? And now he was trying to make light of it, and Theo wanted to sail through this blithely too, but, much as he tried, he couldn’t quite dislodge the frown.
And who knew whether this, whatever was going on, was something he ought to be more concerned about from a professional standpoint as the Cannons’ sponsor, or as his - friend, or both at once? But in any case Theo had the distinct feeling he should be worried. Or, too late, already: he was worried about this. (Not that his concern was much help - actually it was pretty dire, really - because in recent years Theo had been spectacularly unsuccessful at tackling his own problems, never mind anyone else’s.)
Maybe Lestrange wasn’t going to explain anything about what had happened, or maybe he was, but the question of how to cross that bridge was also fairly useless to him until he’d at least glimpsed it. So. Theo swallowed, trying to find an easier way around than confronting the question head-on. “I said you were ill,” he offered, “yesterday.” With a shrug, he shut his mouth and left the sentence hanging there - a little expectantly, making room for him to elaborate if he was here to; but also hopefully sounding offhand enough, if he wasn’t.
