Evander did not know how to jump. No, that was a lie. He understood the concept of jumping - two feet, in the air at the same time - but he was less certain whether he had ever had occasion, in his life, to find jumping a necessity. Never mind jumping from a dock into a moving boat -
He had been readily untying the first lines Alfred had pointed out, supposing it a fairly straightforward task and keen to show that he was capable of more than note-taking, whatever his preferences were; but when he came closer to the last cleat he was regretting having begun and not just deferred all this to Alfred. This could be a theoretical lesson, surely? Caroline’s family would never - make him actually go sailing or anything, or at least not do the sailing, would they? (Then again, she had an abundance of brothers and they were Americans to boot, so the extent of their good manners and human decency was naturally in question. Perhaps it was better to be practised.)
“Alright,” Evander said, trying to sound sturdily convinced of his own abilities here and not horribly high-pitched in nervousness. “Is there not just a particular spell, perhaps, for that -” he considered, when it came to the shove - but oh no, if he cast a spell the boat might move faster and he might lose his wand too and what if he fell in before they’d gone anywhere - and he was on the dock and he did it, at first a tentative nudge and then a hefty push that saw it angle out a little and - “Alfred, I -” he said, admittedly a little high-pitched now, before he... half-hopped, half-threw himself onto the deck into a heap of limbs and utter panic, hoping he had not somehow broken a leg in the process.
He had been readily untying the first lines Alfred had pointed out, supposing it a fairly straightforward task and keen to show that he was capable of more than note-taking, whatever his preferences were; but when he came closer to the last cleat he was regretting having begun and not just deferred all this to Alfred. This could be a theoretical lesson, surely? Caroline’s family would never - make him actually go sailing or anything, or at least not do the sailing, would they? (Then again, she had an abundance of brothers and they were Americans to boot, so the extent of their good manners and human decency was naturally in question. Perhaps it was better to be practised.)
“Alright,” Evander said, trying to sound sturdily convinced of his own abilities here and not horribly high-pitched in nervousness. “Is there not just a particular spell, perhaps, for that -” he considered, when it came to the shove - but oh no, if he cast a spell the boat might move faster and he might lose his wand too and what if he fell in before they’d gone anywhere - and he was on the dock and he did it, at first a tentative nudge and then a hefty push that saw it angle out a little and - “Alfred, I -” he said, admittedly a little high-pitched now, before he... half-hopped, half-threw himself onto the deck into a heap of limbs and utter panic, hoping he had not somehow broken a leg in the process.
