Angie chuckled. "I'm not surprised, I did sort of disappear off the face of the planet for a little while." It had been the only way for her to cope with the grief, even though she wished she had been able to stick around. It would be different now. She had ideas about how to get things to be a little more stable. At least Cash had found people like Gallivan and Greengrass to fill the void. Though she didn't know either one of them very well, she was sort of grateful.

"Yeah, we've been really close since back in school." Graduation had been an odd shift, but they'd managed, even with the strange places they sometimes found themselves. Ang found herself debating on just how much to divulge here. Her question and attitude would probably be lackluster without giving more details, but she also knew Cash never talked about Eli to anyone but her. "We had another friend," she decided to keep it sorta vague. "My partner, but there was an accident." A murder, but that didn't need to be part of the story. "It was really hard for the both of us, we dealt with it very differently." She'd up and left and he'd sunk further down than she had realized at the time, but was starting to wrap her head around just how bad it had gotten in her intermittent absences.

Taking a sip of her bourbon to give herself a moment to catch her breath, Angie sighed softly. "But I know more about Cash than most people," and probably more than Gallivan would have her know, but she wasn't one to judge. "I've known for a long time that a marriage like what he has wasn't something he wanted." Her look turned a little more meaningful. She'd gotten out of that life and hadn't looked back, but he didn't have that option. Sometimes she regretted it, leaving when she could have been in a place to cover for him, but even then, it would have been a stretch. "So when I scoff about that situation, it leaves a really bitter taste in my mouth." Angie hated seeing him any kind of miserable, especially when she couldn't do anything about it. Honestly she didn't even know how he did it sometimes.

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   Theodore Gallivan

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She might have disappeared off the face of the planet for a while, but she did seem to be well enough informed about him, at least in comparison. Clearly Cash talked to her. Or she was an adept Legilimens.

Theo wasn’t, so he was turning over every little piece of information she gave him as she spoke, barely tasting the bourbon for wondering about her partner. Hers, for work? Or maybe there been something more between them than friendship, for her or for Cash. “You lost them,” Theo filled in, in a murmur, at accident. He didn’t know how, but it had always been clear that Cash had lost someone (Someone important to him; someone he had cared about, not his family.) Absence has a weight, he’d said once, a very long time ago – he was sure Angie Swan was talking about the same particular instance of it now.

But there was more to wonder about – about everything else that she knew, and (maybe more importantly in this moment?) could understand. His mouth twisted into a frown again to express his shared bitterness about it. Wasn’t something he wanted felt like the understatement of the century.

Theo sighed, a slow heavy exhale that for once he didn’t need to bother disguising. “Yeah,” he agreed ruefully. He swivelled his glass around, restless. “I know he didn’t have a choice in it. But I think he thought – or hoped, anyway – that things might be better for him when he did marry,” he mused quietly, remembering the way Cash had told him about the marriage and the Vow in one blow. He’d gotten to move out of his father’s house: that had been something. “But... without quidditch... with the baby coming now, I don’t know. I think it might be worse?” And Theo didn’t know – he didn’t know how to be there for him anymore.

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Gallivan seemed to be processing the information she gave and she couldn't blame him. It was obvious he cared about Cash as much as she did and she felt some odd sense of camaraderie in the moment that she hadn't expected. Sometimes she worried because she'd been gone for so long that Cash hadn't had anybody looking out for him, but he had, and it lifted a little weight off her shoulders that she'd been carrying around for longer than she realized.

She nodded along at his appraisal of the situation, thinking that what he said made sense, but Angie also knew Cash well enough to know he would spiral about the baby. Neither one of them had ever had very good parental examples and she could truly understand the concern about the next generation in that cycle. It was a large part of the reason Angie didn't want children herself. "Yeah, that's part of the reason I came home." Angie still had some things to figure out and a contract with the bank to finish, but she was starting the process of relocating to London more permanently.

"I should be seeing him this week," Angie sighed. "I'll get a read on how bad." Neither one of them had ever been able to disguise how bad they were spiraling from the other. She might not always know why he was barely keeping his head above water, but she would be damned if she would let him drown. "I could let you know, if you want?" Forming a tentative alliance in the quest to keep Cash sane would be helpful. Angie would never, ever, say a thing about doing it on her own, but she was only one person and she only got to see him so often. She didn't exactly know where Cash and Gallivan stood, but there was no doubt that the man sitting across from her didn't care.

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Theo nodded earnestly, even at her getting a read; when she offered to let him know, his eyes widened a fraction and he nodded again, still more fervently. “Yeah – yeah, if you could.” He moved on from fidgeting with the glass of bourbon to pulling quietly at the end his shirt sleeves, straightening the cuffs distractedly under his jacket. “I don’t get to see him so much, anymore,” he explained, not sure how much Angie Swan knew but presuming she knew enough about him and Cash. After all, she had known enough to invite him here.

But it was a problem now. He didn’t have an easy excuse to see him all the time now that he didn’t see him at the Cannons pitch; finding any privacy was hard now that Cash was married and had retired from quidditch and they lived separate lives. And privacy was dangerous in itself, now – for Cash’s safety, and Theo’s resolve – because every time Theo remembered the night he had seen Cash on spiritus sancti, he still felt guilty about it. “We’re not... and I don’t know how best to help him, nowadays.” He sighed. It seemed next to impossible from a distance. But Angie Swan was here; that seemed hopeful.

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It was a peculiar thing, to have met someone just an hour ago, and to know exactly what he was talking about. Angie felt that strange sort of camaraderie well up again; she could understand the frustration and the hollowness that accompanied loving Cash sometimes. Especially from afar. There was something about being helpless that was particularly vexing. It wore her down, grated on her, but she wouldn't give up.

Gently she reached out and caught one of his fidgeting hands, giving it a brief, tight squeeze before letting go. "I know." She truly did. "It's been thirteen years of loving Cash. I know." Their drastically different worlds, the fact that she simply couldn't fix anything for him; watching him fall apart in half-time because he wasn't allowed to show it.

Clearing her throat, Angie took a sip of her bourbon. "And I will let you know what I find out." She rather thought Theo deserved to know and Cash could be mad at her if he wanted, but as she was wont to do, Angie collected the misfits around her and now she would gather Theo into the mix.

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   Elias Grimstone

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He – believed her when she said it. Theo didn’t know if it was in the words or her tone or her hand squeezing his, but he believed her. He felt, for a moment, understood.

Maybe it was a little terrifying, that she had seen through him so well and so instantly, without him even needing to explain anything; but it wasn’t as though he had anyone else he could tell, or anyone else who would understand him better. (And he did love Cash, but maybe that was a stumbling block for hoping Cash would ever understand him, because Cash did not seem to be able to love himself. But Angie Swan loved him. She had said as much – and it was obvious, too.)

“Thanks,” Theo said, another sigh softening his chest. He was still worried, but she had lifted some of the weight. He hadn’t known he’d needed this until it had happened. “Really, I – I’m glad you stopped me. And invited me round.” He shot her a smile – however odd this was, he was profoundly grateful for it.

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   Angie Swan

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Angie could feel the little tangible shift in him and she smiled softly. She clearly didn't know him very well yet, but she didn't think she needed to, either. They were similar in a way nobody else could possibly be. And he was important to Cash, which automatically made him important to her. Nothing had changed, but it was nice to know she had somebody else who understood, even if they had just met. Having somebody in her corner meant a lot.

"Me too," as unexpected as it had been, Angie was grateful for it too. "The invitation is always open," Angie had a come-and-go sort of policy at her flat to those who needed it. She wasn't sure who took advantage of it, especially when she was gone, but she wouldn't be gone now and so she meant it wholeheartedly. It was an easy place to escape to. She had a spare bedroom and a couch, plenty of privacy. Nobody paid much attention to her coming and going over years, not in this part of London anyway. "Any time, for anything." She assured him with another smile.

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