February 12th, 1891 — Sonata #7, de Montfault Theatre

Ford did not particularly expect to enjoy himself tonight, but he had made a rule of never turning down an event that he could drag Grace along to prior to her debut, just in case she managed to meet and impress an eligible gentleman, so here he was with the entire family in tow. As far as diversions went, music wasn't bad, but he expected to be bored by midway through the evening. At least it wasn't a dance. He felt too self-conscious after his interaction with Miss Belby last month(and the resulting rumors) to actually ask anyone to dance, even (especially) girls he'd known and been quite friendly with during school. On the other hand, if he wasn't dancing, he had no idea what to do with himself. In a setting like this, at least he could pull off to the side with some of his male friends — safe, if boring, interactions to pass the time while he tried not to be obvious about the fact that he was infinitely distractable by what his two sisters were up to, and with whom they were conversing.

His mother was here, too, which... he supposed was good. Maybe it would do her good to be out of the house and start interacting with society again? She had been so ... strange since the death of his father. On the other hand, being out and about in society might give her too many ideas about new and inventive ways to spend money they didn't have...

He went to check up on her and found her talking with another woman her age (probably safe, he decided). She asked if he wouldn't mind fetching her shawl, which he'd placed at their seats on the floor when they'd arrived, and of course he said yes. He wasn't sure if she was actually cold or whether she'd just seen through his rather transparent attempt to check in on her and resented the intrusion, but either way he didn't mind. He went to retrieve the shawl, started to turn back towards the lobby, and then caught sight of what was going on up on the stage.

He hadn't even realized there was going to be anything going on except the music. They must not have started yet, when he came in to put their things down to begin with. There was a flurry of movement from the dancers, but what caught his eye in particular was a man in a costume that was tight enough to show the contours of the muscles in his arms and legs. Risqué indeed, though he understood why such an outfit had been necessary as he watched the man move. The whole appeal of his performance was to see exactly what angle he was positioning himself at. Ford had never, in his memory, seen anything like it, and he found himself unable to pull his eyes away.

This may have gone on for seconds or minutes before he was interrupted; he'd lost track of everything else that was happening except for what was occurring on stage, to the point where even when someone spoke to him he wasn't sure what they'd said, only that they'd spoken. "Sorry?" he asked, turning to see who had approached.

  

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Set by Lady!

The opera was alright, he supposed, if one were interested in that sort of thing, which, naturally, Dory wasn't. It wasn't that the music was uninteresting or the evening dull. The evening was just ... too stuffy for his tastes. Or, it would've been if he hadn't received a tip from one of his more risque friends that there were to be dancers to accompany tonight's Sonata. That was just the sort of thing to pique his interest enough to make purchasing a ticket worth the expense.

Unlike most of the audience, Dorian made few forays out of the theater. He had little interest in conversing with random society members, especially when he was feeling as pent up as he was. Small talk conversations with desperate debutantes wouldn't lead to the ending he hoped for, the fiasco with Miss Beauchamp was proof of that. The chase after her was fun for awhile, but when she'd made it clear the only way she was lifting her skirts was with an accompanying engagement Dory had ran hard in the opposite direction. Marriage was wonderful, for some. Roslyn and Ross seemed to enjoy it, Ari and Dionisia seemed to be reasonably happy. But, for Dory, marriage wasn't what he was ready for just yet.

Fun. That's what he wanted.

He watched the dancers with eager eyes, his gaze shifting between each one as they moved in ways Dory had previously thought impossible for the human body. So focused was he that he barely noticed Greengrass standing just a few feet away in the aisle, similarly entranced. (Which, given his recent exposé in Witch Weekly wasn't terribly surprising. What was surprising, though, was that Greengrass was the sort to disappear into broom closets at all. Dory hadn't pegged him as the type.)

Unable to resist the allure of conversing with a similarly minded man, he stood from his seat and made his way over to his new acquaintance. "Fascinating the way the human body can move, isn't it?" He asked first in a low tone and then repeated with a slight smirk when Greengrass didn't hear. "Never would've suspected a man to be able to turn himself in two like that." Women, sure. He'd encountered it once or twice. Never men, though.

  

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beautiful set by lady

Fascinating was a good word for it, Ford decided as Mr. Fisk repeated the remark for him. He was certainly fascinated by this display, and not even embarrassed to admit it, particularly if Fisk was finding it as entrancing as he was.

"I've never seen anything like it," he admitted, turning back to look at the contortionist again. He'd been to orchestral events before, where the stage was only filled with instruments. He'd been to operas, where the singers stood stiffly in formal gowns and costumes while delivering arias. This seemed... closer to what he imagined one might find at the circus, though he'd never been to one of those before.

"I can't imagine what it takes to be able to do something like that," he continued. "Well, practice, I suppose — but it's not exactly the sort of thing one does in Quidditch practice, is it?"

  

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Set by Lady!

Dory was genuinely surprised to hear Greengrass had never witnessed any sort of human flexibility. Miss Belby wasn't exactly a shrew, what with her long standing rumors of privately sneaking away with men and women alike. (Distantly, Dory wondered if he ought to try his luck with her. Perhaps he wouldn't be as pent up as he was.)

Despite this, he somehow managed to keep his features schooled into his trademark smirk. "Practice and a natural talent for flexibility, I'd imagine. Though, I'm sure most women know that better than I." Dory shrugged. He half turned away from Greengrass to study the dancers once again, this time focusing on the lone male. He was certainly handsome for a man, a lucky bastard too to work with such beautiful women. Or were the women lucky to work with him? There had to be some practicing of this flexibility that happened outside the theater or arena.

"I can't say we ever practiced such movements in quidditch, though. Do you think it makes them more agile? Perhaps seekers ought to learn such tricks." He commented easily.

  

Perhaps Fisk was right, and it took talent as well as practice, but how did one discover such a talent? There weren't many childhood activities that would uncover a hidden ability like this — or at least, there hadn't been any in Ford's childhood. And then, what did one do to practice? Ford had only said it because practice was presumably how one improved on anything, but he couldn't imagine what that might look like. He'd only been joking with the remark about Quidditch. He may not have been athletic, but he knew none of the blokes on the Hogwarts Quidditch team were off doing that.

He didn’t know what to think, either, of Fisk’s throwaway line about women. Were women naturally more flexible than men? Perhaps — there did seem to be more female dancers and acrobats on stage then there were males. It was the man up front who had caught his eye, however, and even after turning his attention to the others up on stage he found his gaze sliding back to the incredibly flexible man in the center…

"I imagine flexibility could make you better at a lot of things," he said, a little distantly but trying to pay enough attention to not let the conversation lapse while he stared off at the dancers again. It sounded true when it occurred to him, but he would have had difficulty elaborating on exactly what everyday tasks he thought that sort of talent might ease. He just imagined there might be some, he supposed. Rather than continue, he changed track slightly.

"Were you a seeker, Mr. Fisk?" He meant it as an honest question; he remembered Fisk as part of the Quidditch crowd but didn't pay enough attention to remember which position he'd played. Since Dorian Fisk had begun the conversation in a low voice, however, Ford had continued it in the same register, and upon hearing his words aloud he realized that an innocent question asked nearly under his breath took on the feel of a secret, although he'd had some ulterior motive in asking.

  

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Set by Lady!

Flexibility could undoubtedly aid in a great many things, though all the ones Dory could think of existed solely behind closed doors. Which, sadly enough, he couldn't comment upon in the middle of a large crowd. "Like what?" He prodded instead, both intrigued and a tad amused by Greengrass' evident distraction. Dory hadn't ever considered that other men would have the same passing thoughts as he, but perhaps it was an affliction all men suffered from. Perhaps it was why sex in general was such a taboo subject to discuss.

"Beater, but I considered seeker once or twice." He answered, unable to fully ignore the subtext of their conversation. At the very least, having confirmation that he wasn't the only one to occasionally fantasize about men would be a small comfort. Even if nothing were to ever come of it. "My decision came down to desiring an active role, I suppose. I'm not much one for watching." In quidditch or elsewhere. There was little fun to be had in sitting on the sidelines observing when the opportunity to be fully involved existed elsewhere.

"I also really enjoy swinging the bat." He added with a smirk. Greengrass likely enjoyed swinging his bat, too, if Witch Weekly was to be believed. Though, try as he might Dory couldn't think of a natural segway to ask about his supposedly impending fatherhood.

  

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beautiful set by lady

Ford's heartrate picked up, just a bit, at Fisk's response. He had never been interested in Quidditch before, and that extended to talking about it, but for some reason this conversation had him hooked. He honestly couldn't have said what it was. He'd seen Quidditch types practicing, at school, and hadn't given it a second thought, but the way Fisk talked about swinging the bat made Ford think maybe he wouldn't mind watching that. Or maybe even — what was the phrase he'd used? — taking a more active role.

"Shame you don't play anymore," Ford said, cheeks flushing slightly. "Sounds like a lot of fun."

  

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Set by Lady!

"I still do on occasion," Dory stated casually. His thoughts were racing with the possible implications of what they were truly discussing. Not only did Greengrass appear to have the same thoughts, but he seemed almost … willing to find a more private time to discuss them. That very thought made him carefully turn his focus back to stage to hide any hint of a flush on his cheeks. Any discussion of that sort couldn't happen.

Right?

"Recreationally, of course, if you're ever interested in joining." He then added, his eyes glued to the male dancer.

  

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beautiful set by lady

Ford's pulse quickened a little more at the invitation. He never would have imagined back in his Hogwarts days that he'd be in this situation, getting a casual invitation from an older, more athletic, more popular boy to go play Quidditch.

Were they still talking about playing Quidditch? Of course they were. What else could they have been talking about? But the intensity of Fisk's gaze as he watched the stage gave Ford pause.

"If you don't mind showing me what to do," Ford said, cheeks flushing again. "I've never played. Recreationally or otherwise. But I might like to learn. With the right company, anyway," he added, feeling suddenly very self-conscious about his lack of Quidditch experience, though it had never once bothered him prior to this conversation. He supposed he just wanted Fisk to like him — though why he cared so much about that, he couldn't have said.

  

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Set by Lady!

"It isn't too difficult a sport to learn." Quidditch, that was. Whatever else they were discussing was another matter entirely. That was an area where he had no prior knowledge, no information on how to navigate the terrain. Then again, such knowledge wasn't meant to exist, so perhaps it was better to stick to quidditch. Even if the thought made a pit of dread form in his stomach.

Despite the war waging in his head, Dory didn't wish to rescind the invitation. He could learn to navigate the subtle conversations if it meant spending more time with Greengrass. "I don't mind teaching you. Who knows, you might even make a great seeker." He said as he turned back to Greengrass with a small smile.

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   Fortitude Greengrass

Ford's cheeks flushed at the unexpected… compliment? Yes, he supposed it was a compliment. Nothing more than that. An entirely unfounded compliment, Ford was sure; he'd never been athletic in the slightest and was sure he wouldn't be able to find his way around a Quidditch Pitch even with careful instruction.

"Well, as long as you don't expect me to be as flexible as that," he said, with a nod towards the stage. The contortionist who'd originally caught his eye was moving towards the back of the stage, and his position at the front and center was being taken by a pair of acrobats with a hoop of some kind. A part of him wished they'd trade places again, and he almost said something to that effect to Fisk, but stopped himself. For some reason he couldn't quite articulate immediately, he wasn't sure he wanted his sisters watching that fellow. Being able to see so much of his form might have shocked them. They were too inexperienced to appreciate that sort of thing, he thought (and not to their detriment; young women weren't supposed to be experienced, and certainly not in that particular avenue). Not that he had a wealth of life experience, either... but he was certainly appreciative.

He hesitated a moment. Now that the contortionist had gone he felt a little strange continuing the conversation, as though a spell had been broken. They'd only started talking in the first place because of that dancer, and part of Ford thought Fisk couldn't possibly find him interesting of his own accord.

"I should take my mother her shawl," he said, awkwardly. "She might think I've wandered off and gotten lost."

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   Dorian Fisk

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Set by Lady!

Greengrass was blushing. Merlin, they couldn't possibly be discussing quidditch with his cheeks as red as they were. Unsure of what else to do, Dory averted his eyes towards the stage only to note with a slight frown that the very man who sparked their conversation was moving back towards the shadows. By the time he turned back to his companion, the blush was gone and Dory could think straight once more.

"I'll forgive you if you're not," he replied in what he hoped was a joking manner. That Dory was vividly picturing Greengrass bent in all sorts of positions was too embarrassing to even consider as a proper thought. (Did it only take practice, though? Could the pair or them learn in time how to best position themselves?)

No. No, they could not.

Dory looked down towards Greengrass' hands, surprised that he was holding a shawl all along. "Right," he said, clearing his throat. "I'm going to step out to the bar." Perhaps the washroom too, to deal with this sudden problem of his. "Always a pleasure, Greengrass."

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   Bronwyn Moony

The conversation was ending and Ford was almost... relieved? That word didn't make any sense, because he had been enjoying talking to Dorian Fisk, but it was the word that came to mind none the less. He couldn't shake the feeling that had settled on him a few moments ago, when Fisk had invited him to play Quidditch while watching the dancer so closely and carefully — the feeling that there was more going on in this conversation than met the eye. Ford was not exactly a stranger to missing the subtext of a conversation — his disastrous interludes with Miss Belby being prime examples — but something about this felt different than just putting his foot in his mouth. He felt as though the elephant in the room — something to do with the dancers — had been growing and growing until it was impossible to talk about, or think about, anything else. So, yes, he was a little relieved as he nodded a goodbye and headed back towards the lobby. Relieved and uncomfortable and tense, all at once, like a coil about to spring.

He needed some water, he decided. Mama could wait for her shawl a few more minutes. He needed water and maybe some air, to get all of ... this out of his head.

  

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Set by Lady!

That they both walked the same path from the theater was to be expected, seeing as there were only so many exits to and from. However, when Greengrass continued to be in step with him Dory couldn't help but raise a brow. There weren't any women seated at the bar from what he could tell, or at least none that looked old enough to be a mother to a twenty-four year old man. He didn't question it, though. Perhaps Mrs. Greengrass was loitering somewhere beyond the bar or had gone elsewhere. It wasn't Dory's responsibility to know.

This wasn't to say that the walk wasn't awkward, though. The tension that surrounded their conversation in the theater followed their footsteps until it too joined them at the bar. "Decided to have a drink with me?" He asked, trying to gauge whether or not he was expected to remain seated. His plan had been to throw back his scotch as though it were water and find the nearest source of privacy. Anything to resolve the burning itch of need coursing through his system.

  

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beautiful set by lady

Ford had honestly been too distracted during the walk to even notice he was pacing the man he'd just said his goodbyes to, until Fisk spoke to him again and startled him back to reality.

"Oh," he said, cheeks coloring with embarrassment. "I — ah, I decided I needed some water. Sorry," he said, though apologizing was perhaps a little ridiculous. Dorian Fisk didn't own the bar, and Ford didn't need his permission to get a glass of water — but all the same, this was terribly awkward.

  

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Set by Lady!

Water was such an innocent choice that Dory was simultaneously amused and disappointed. Greengrass had to recognize the current flowing between them, but what did it mean? And did it not affect them both the same. Dory doubted there would ever be a situation where the tension was brought to a head, but he couldn't possibly stomach the embarrassment that would accompany any rejection.

This was why wanting men was illegal.

This was also why Dory quickly drained the contents of his freshly ordered scotch and signaled for another.

"No need for apologies," he stated. "It's awfully hot in the theater, can't say I blame you."