August 21st, 1894 - Smoke & Scale

It seemed the wizarding world in which he lived, could not go an entire year without some form of disaster. Dragons last September in London. Plagues, fires and fogs. Now it was a giant sinkhole in Padmore Park. Nigel's department had little to do but support relief efforts and he had not been truly dispatched to do anything of use himself. It left him antsy and worried and it took him far too long to figure out just what it was about the whole thing that had him so anxious.

He hadn't made much progress on wrapping his head around the situation with Enid. Did he have the same feelings for her that she held for him? Not to the extent he thought. He cared for her obviously, would hate for this to cause a chasm between them, but he also did not want to get her hopes up and there were obstacles in the way that he did not know if the could circumvent even if they wanted to.

Then of course a new disaster brought out the fact that she was, once again, called to deal with a major catastrophe, in which she could easily get caught up in herself, and he was brought back the relief he'd felt after finding her post-dragons. That had to mean something, right?

It had been a long day of trying to be helpful and he had only caught a glimpse of her to at least know she was alright. Upon being dispatched from service at the pit, Nigel hadn't wanted to linger and be in the way, so he'd flooed back to the Glen and taken a seat at the bar. Helping clear a disaster was a good reason to need a drink right? Right. He had nursed a deep glass of whiskey and half a second before the fireplace of the pub lit up and Enid stepped out.

Now faced with the obvious fact that he may have been waiting for her, and was half in his cups because of it, Nigel flushed red and gave her a lopsided smile.

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Enid Glynn

  

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It had been a long few days. Most of the people who were injured had physical injuries that were not difficult to fix with magic, but time in the pit had worsened their conditions. Their mental injuries would take much longer to heal, if they ever did. Many of the people who died had died before they were extracted from the pit. It was hard to know there was nothing she could have done — and it was harder to see some of the bodies and know that she could have helped if she had rescued them faster.

It had at least been better than the dragons. Less carnage, easier injuries.

She left St. Mungo's shortly after her shift ended, changing back into a dress in one of the rooms that people could sleep in, before walking to the floo network. She was considering getting a drink with Morgan. Her sister wouldn't begrudge her that, right? When she arrived via floo, Enid saw Nigel Yarwood and immediately considered heading home instead, lest she make him uncomfortable — but he was smiling at her.

She walked to the bar, steps tentative. "Evening," Enid said. Now that she was closer, he looked at least half-drunk. "Should I take this barstool?" she asked, gesturing to the empty one next to him.

  

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set by Bee

Nigel had started to stand, a little unsteadily, much to his chagrin. He didn't know why, manners? Trying to make sure she didn't ignore him? He forgot as soon as she approached. She hadn't gone running by him, despite the lapse in their communication and he had to be grateful for that at least.

"Please," he gestured to the mentioned stool and managed to take his own without embarrassing himself further. "Are you alright? Is everything settling down in the park?" The drink was causing him to ramble and he knew it, but he didn't know what else to start with. He wanted this to be an important conversation, but was now second-guessing himself, a whiskey in and at the pub. What was he thinking?

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Nigel Yarwood talked more when he was drunk; Enid had not known this about him. She sat down on the stool and turned towards him. (Morgan, Enid knew, would put a drink she liked in front of her when she saw her there. When her sister was working, Enid could reliably drink for free, unless they were fighting.)

"All the survivors got out yesterday," Enid said — this was, she thought, the gentlest way to say that no one who had come out of the pit today was alive. She felt horribly for the mediwizards who had been sent to extract the bodies. Hopefully they would not be difficult to identify. "So I was at St. Mungo's today, still with pit victims. The park's closed, I think."

Morgan flitted by, put a pint in front of her. Enid took a sip. She didn't want to be in her cups like he was, but not completely sober, either.

  

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set by Bee

Suddenly Nigel was nervous. What was he doing? Why had he had the entire glass of whiskey before this? Enid's sister was giving him a weird look every time she walked by and he hadn't any idea what to do with his face.

Clearly the days were blending together, everything he'd done today had been sort of in a daze. How drunk was he? "Right," he'd helped close the park today; he knew that. "I'm glad you didn't get caught up in it." He managed on a more genuine, straightforward train of thought. He really needed to get his thoughts together here. "How are your patients doing?" There, that was a better attempt at a normal conversation, right? Was this supposed to be a normal conversation? He'd had a plan and it was rapidly deteriorating the longer he sat here.

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It was odd that they were having their first conversation since the Fairtree Farm Celebration, and Nigel Yarwood was asking her about her patients., If this had happened before he got her letters, Enid would have thought it meant something. Instead she was confused.

"They'll be alright," she said, with a small smile. "I'm keeping some for observation overnight, but I do think they'll be released soon." Hopefully there wouldn't be any creature-incidents soon — she would be much more stuck at the hospital if something like that happened.

  

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set by Bee

Nigel nodded, still toying idly with his glass, but not daring to take another sip. He was already a little too tipsy and he didn't need to make anything worse. "Good, good," he cast a glace at her. "I'm glad you're alright." This whole conversation felt unnatural and he missed the easy cadence their friendship used to have. He was only making matters worse somehow, he knew it, because he was still so far out of his depth here that he couldn't put coherent thoughts together. Maybe it was the whiskey.

"I ah, though we might be able to talk?" They both still had a drink in front of them and he had no intentions of finishing his, but this also didn't feel like the right place with so many people and prying ears. "Can I walk you home after you finish that?" Hopefully the fresh air would help clear hi head.

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He wanted to walk her home. Maybe if he did, they would be able to have a conversation that was less awkward — and maybe he would finally give her an answer.

(Enid was not entirely convinced that she wanted an answer. If he liked her, things were still complicated. And if he didn't, it was going to break her heart.)

She took a sip of her ale before she replied. "I can take the glass with me," she said, having let the air settle between them for a beat. "If you don't want to wait while I drink. Morgan will just bring it back tomorrow."

  

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set by Bee

"That is entirely up to you," the last thing Nigel wanted to be was an inconvenient pest. He was already being weird and awkward and he didn't want to make it worse than it already was. They couldn't exactly have a follow up conversation to their last one here in the pub, but he didn't want to rush her either; she'd had a long couple of days and he didn't want to add (any more) to her stress. "I don't mind either way."

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He didn't want to inconvenience her, but he had certainly kept her waiting for long enough. The sharpness of the thought surprised her; Enid looked down into her pint of ale and flushed. She looked back up at him. "Tell me all about your day," she said, picking up the pint with both of her hands and almost-cradling it. "And I'll finish this while you do."

  

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set by Bee

Nigel felt uncommonly antsy. He was unfamiliar with situations like this that he was at Enid's mercy for whatever it was she wanted from him. Her request surprised him, but he was in no position to argue with her. "It was mostly inconsequential, my department doesn't do emergencies much," aside from last September. "Just a lot of support work." It had been an all-hands-on-deck sort of situation and he had hands.

"Always makes me feel a bit useless, like what should I be doing differently." He admitted, looking at his whiskey but unable to finish it. He toyed with the glass, rolled it on the bottom rim so the liquid swirled around slowly. "Certainly nothing as useful or admirable as you do."

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Enid could drink fast when she wanted to — she was a farm girl, and while she had never engaged much in debauchery, she had tried to drink some of her brothers under the table before. And she was trying, but she could still only finish a third of the ale while Nigel was talking. Her cheeks were flushed with the effort.

She waved a hand for him to continue, but paused in her fervent sipping to say, "I don't think what I do is particularly admirable — I'm good at it, so I should do it. And what you do is useful, too." Enid wouldn't have any skills in terms of dealing with dragons in their physicality.

  

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set by Bee

"Saving lives isn't admirable? I think you should give yourself more credit than that." Was his immediate response. Nigel was normally not so talkative, he would have thought about a less straightforward reply if he wasn't half in the bag. "Dragon research really isn't all that critical to the world." Did he enjoy it? Absolutely. And he was good at it, but it paled in comparison to what Enid did day in and day out.

"I could never do what you do." He wasn't great with blood or injuries or emergencies or anything of the sort.

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It occurred to Enid that this was unlike them. Him, drunk, making a chatty point — her, now that he knew about the crush, interested in arguing her own points instead of just agreeing with him so that he liked her. She continued drinking her ale through his words — two-thirds down. Vaughn would be impressed by her tenacity.

"Just because I'm good at it doesn't mean it's heroic," Enid pointed out, after she had finished swallowing. "I like being a healer. I wouldn't like being a researcher."

  

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set by Bee

Nigel tilted his head to the side, still too tipsy to truly see where she was coming from. She could be good at something and it could be a noble profession, those things were not mutually exclusive. Still, drunk or not, Nigel was not the kind to argue over something like that, so he just shrugged. He thought it was admirable of her, or anyone that chose to dedicate themselves in such a manner.

Something felt off and he was sure it was his fault, as usual, so he struggled for where to go from there. The temptation to suck back the rest of his whiskey hit harder and he pushed the glass away, out of reach, so he didn't indulge in the impulse. "Good thing there's lots of different ways to do what we're good at." Was all he could come up with. Maybe this wasn't the time to have this conversation after all. Maybe he should start thinking of an exit strategy, apologize profusely for messing things up again and excuse himself. That was all he was going to be capable of at any rate and it wasn't that appealing, but neither was having an important conversation when he felt like this.

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Enid shrugged at him. It felt like he didn't understand what she was trying to say, but she wasn't sure how to say it any better. Sometimes she thought that she was a healer because she wanted to help people; sometimes she thought that she was a healer because she liked to feel smart. The impact was still the same, but that didn't mean she felt particularly noble about it.

She took one last large sip of her ale. The dregs remained, but Enid hopped off of the barstool and put a Knut on the counter to pay. "Shall we go?" she asked. He hadn't finished his whiskey — but he'd mostly been playing with it.

  

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set by Bee