An interesting development. He leaned forward, placed his teacup back on the tray, and turned in his seat on the couch so he was sitting cross-legged, staring directly at her. He propped up an elbow up on his knee and placed his chin in his palm, one brow still raised—but this time, the corner of his mouth was curved up into a crooked half-smile.

"So, what I've gathered is that you expect me to blindly trust you, because you're, what? Good at this sort of thing?" She still hadn't answered that question, but he was determined to back her into a corner where she'd have no choice. "But you won't tell me anything that would reassure me of that, and why? Because you don't trust me. All because I'm a man?" He flashed an unamused look, but it faded just as fast as it came. He was no longer frustrated; he was curious, almost amused.

"No, I won't accept that. You clearly know all about me. I think I deserve to know a little more about you. " And there was nothing—nothing—that could change his mind. Not now that she was being contradictory on top of all the other adjectives.

---

  

---

— way too attractive set by mj <3 —

There was a distinct shift in the atmosphere of the room, and it caught Jules off guard. She had been expecting him to be offended, which was why she didn't want to tell him in the first place. She had not expected him to sit cross-legged on the sofa like that, or to look at her like that, or to smile. Juliana Binns was hardly a conventional woman, but the turn this had taken had her blushing all the same. She turned a bit towards him, and took the opportunity as she did so to scoot back just slightly on the sofa, so that he wasn't quite so close when he leaned his arm against his knee like that.

"No, it's — it's not because you're a man," she clarified, flustered despite herself. She'd said gentleman, which she supposed could have been a synonym in certain situations, but that wasn't what she'd meant at all. She'd meant all of the things that typically went along with that word when women said things like oh, he's such a perfect gentleman. Now he thought she had some bizarre prejudice against the opposite sex. "It's because you're —" she started, but hesitated. Kind was the word that came to mind, but now that he was looking at her as though they were playing a game rather than having a conversation she wasn't sure she wanted to say it. He might make fun of her, either for her choice in the word or for whatever she had based that assumption on. She didn't have any evidence for the conclusion, not really. It was just a feeling that she had, that she didn't want to admit to.

"Fine," she said, deciding that answering a few questions would be less embarrassing than trying to defend herself at this point. "What do you want to know?"

The following 1 user Likes Juliana Ainsworth's post:1 user Likes Juliana Ainsworth's post
   Lachlan MacFusty

---

Prof. Marlowe Forfang

Jules

He'd clearly caught her off guard, which was - good. It meant he had the upper ground, if only for a moment. Her cheeks flushed pink and her eloquent arrogance was replaced with fumbling speech, and he wasn't quite sure why, but he wasn't about to look too deep into it. He wanted to ask her what he was too much of that she couldn't trust him, but then she gave in and that question was replaced by questions. Demands.

"You never answered my last question," he started, reaching over to grab the tray of tea with one hand. It was a struggle to balance it, but he managed to place it on the space in the couch between them so they could continue sipping their tea while he unraveled her life story (and he would, no matter what she thought). "What do you do? I can't envision you as the type of woman to do nothing. You're too smart." He didn't see it as a compliment when he said it, but he supposed it was. He hated to admit it, but she'd been clever in publishing an alternate—even though he thought she hadn't thought it through well enough. If it had been up to him, he would have hidden away until the rumors disappeared. He supposed women didn't have the same luxury.

---

  

---

— way too attractive set by mj <3 —

At least he was starting with something innocent; she'd been a little afraid that when she gave in he might jump straight to something she didn't have an answer for, just to make her uncomfortable. She had the sense that he was vaguely amused by making her uncomfortable — though he had brought the tea tray over to occupy the space between them, which was something. Having a physical thing to separate them made the distance between the two of them feel a little less improper, even though he hadn't moved back at all. It hadn't been too close when he'd first sat down, either, but there was a difference between sitting next to someone on a sofa and having them turned towards you — a different level of intensity.

"I keep the appointment book at the House of Lytton. And I write," she answered. Both were true, though neither was really what she did — and neither required her to be smart. Women in her position weren't really supposed to work, though, so hopefully he'd take her answers at face value. It wasn't as though anyone would expect her to be rushing off and signing up for the auror training program, or anything — particularly when, as he already knew, she hadn't graduated Hogwarts. Her career options were rather limited, but that was fine. If she'd had a more interesting day job, it would only have distracted her from her real work.

"What do you do with the dragons?" she asked, not because she wanted to know the answer but rather because the idea of simply sitting here and allowing herself to be interrogated rankled. If she was going to put up with this, she was at least planning to give as good as she got.

  

---

Prof. Marlowe Forfang

Jules

Lachlan did not go to fashion houses to get his clothes, and Miss Binns didn't seem the type to go anywhere near the crowd of stuffy debutantes who did; it made the revelation all the stranger. Surely a woman of her intellect could get a more interesting job than appointment-keeping? But then again she said she also wrote, and although he'd never heard of books written by Juliana Binns he knew it didn't mean anything. It wasn't as though he made a habit out of reading.

His life was far less interesting—not even worth talking about, really. He'd played quidditch, had a very bad and very public end to his career, and had settled into the family occupation which seemed interesting to most people, but was much less exciting to someone who had grown up around it. "I ensure they don't destroy any of the nearby towns" he answered. The statement did not encompass all of his duties, but would probably prevent further questions.

"You said you write," he said suddenly, his hand slipping from its spot under his chin and coming to rest against his cheek. "I guess that would explain how you managed to get published in Witch Weekly," he said off-handedly, "but are you just a hobbyist, or are you a published writer?" He was genuinely interested; she was an unconventional kind of woman, and those were the type he got on best with, even if she was a little annoying.

---

  

---

— way too attractive set by mj <3 —

Since this showed every indication of being a long-winded little game, Juliana had shifted her position slightly so that one leg was a little higher on the sofa. It wasn't nearly so abrupt a change as his had been, moving to sit cross-legged, but it put her in a better position to see him, without having to turn so dramatically, and to reach the tea things more easily. "I am published," she answered simply, picking her tea cup back up again and nestling it between one hand and the fabric of her skirt, so that she could continue to drink it less formally. "Though not under my own name."

That was all she planned to say about that, even if he pressed her; she was not interested in divulging all her secrets, no matter what rights he thought he had. She didn't know what to ask next, and she looked up at him as she considered it, but then — he had moved his hand up to his cheek, and her stomach did an immediate and uncomfortable flip.

"Don't do that," she said, with a frown. Her shoulders stiffened just a tiny bit; she wasn't sure if he'd notice it or not. "Don't look at me like that."

  

---

Prof. Marlowe Forfang

Jules

A published author, but not under her own name. Huh. Of course he knew that people used pseudonyms sometimes, and on one occasion he remembered his mother raving that she thought a book must have been written by a woman despite the author's very male name because she couldn't imagine a man thinking like that. Most women were published in the romance genre, anyways, and Miss Binss... did not seem the type, to say lightly.

He did not say anything immediately, only because he could not think of how to respond to that, but then she went and scolded him for - his expression? He sat up and crossed his arms over his chest. "Like what?" he asked, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

---

  

---

— way too attractive set by mj <3 —

"Like —" she stopped, unsure how to describe it. It was just a feeling that she had, seeing him look at her that way. If she tried to quantify it by going through the individual elements of the expression, it would have sounded silly. Don't lean your cheek on your hand like that. Don't let your lips part just the slightest amount when you look at me. Don't raise your eyebrow like that. Keep that look out of your eyes.

"Like you — like you think I'm interesting," she said with a huff. That didn't really encompass it, and she was sure he was going to push back on this — that or make fun of her. "Like you actually want to know. Like you think we're going to become friends."

  

---

Prof. Marlowe Forfang

Jules

There she went again with the fumbling speech. Lach couldn't decide if he found it endearing or confusing—both, maybe, because the more she explained the tighter his chest grew. He couldn't put a finger on the emotion, but his gaze softened and his lips slipped into a frown that was more visible in the slight turn of his brows than his lips. "I think you're very interesting. I do want to know," he refuted, but he wasn't sure why. He continued, unable to stop himself, because he decided he'd rather have an annoyingly confident Miss Binns than a self-conscious, uncertain one.

"And I know you don't - I mean, you don't want to be my friend." It was a statement, not a question. She'd already said she wanted to keep their personal lives separate until he'd gone and pressured her into a game of questions. "But I think it would be best if we... were. Maybe not friends, but you'd be silly to think we shouldn't keep in contact until this passes." If they could communicate they could figure out how widespread the rumors were and how to best dispel them.

He dropped his arms and settled back into his former position, resting his hand against his cheek. His gaze went to the teacups as he considered the best way to go about this without oversharing. "I'm sure you know all about the quidditch scandal." She did; it was in the article. "I don't... I don't deal with things like this well on my own. I need to be able to... talk... to someone." He gulped and looked up at her again.

---

  

---

— way too attractive set by mj <3 —

"It's not a matter of wanting," she argued, because he was looking decidedly pathetic and if she didn't find a reason to be irritated she was in danger of slipping into sympathy for him. "It has nothing to do with you, honestly. It's just unwise." She thought she'd made her point clear enough when she said she didn't trust him, but perhaps he still hadn't understood.

This was another sign of that sentimentality she'd detected in him earlier. He actually was curious, she could tell. The look would not have alarmed her if she thought he was faking it. The thing was, if he was actually interested in her as a person and she could tell, there was a chance that others would, too. Under normal circumstances it might not have mattered — Juliana was hardly adverse to unconventional friendships — but right now, people were going to be asking him about her, and if he liked her, if he thought she was interesting or witty or intelligent or anything, people were going to pick up on that. It would throw the whole premise of their being nothing more than passing strangers with unfortunate timing into question. It was problematic precisely because it was genuine, not because she doubted his amiability.

"Don't you have someone else you can talk to?" she asked in exasperation. She did sympathize with him, after his last sentence, but she did not imagine she could be the only choice of confidante available to him. "They needn't know everything to help you cope with rumors."

The following 1 user Likes Juliana Ainsworth's post:1 user Likes Juliana Ainsworth's post
   Lachlan MacFusty

---

Prof. Marlowe Forfang

Jules

And suddenly she had the upper hand. He released a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding and sat up. He fixed himself so he was sitting regularly again on the couch, his feet firm on the the floor and one hand gripping the arm of the couch. It wasn't that he was dying to be friends with her—and if he was being honest, he wasn't after friendship, but they were in this scandal together, he was forbidden from telling anyone the truth, and not to mention that he had yet to fully process the actual incident. She didn't think it was a good idea to stay in touch, to talk, to anything, and he just didn't get it. He didn't think he ever would. It wasn't matter of daftness, but a difference in handling their problems, and he knew that now.

"Just—go then," he said, standing up. He left the tray in front of her. He knew he would regret telling her to go the first time someone mentioned the scandal and he had no one to talk to about it, but it was easier to send her away than to try and convince her to accept his acquaintanceship. It was less embarrassing and did not require a level of vulnerability that he was not prepared to show.

He still had his back turned to her when he spoke, because she'd seemed to take issue with his expression and he did not want her seeing the conflict in it now. "Go, and I won't talk to anyone about this. Your secret is safe with me."

---

  

---

— way too attractive set by mj <3 —

He stood and moved away, and Juliana watched him while feeling a little exasperated. This was obviously not ideal, but she wasn't sure what she was meant to do to fix it — or, she thought belatedly, that it was even really her job to fix it. She didn't know him; they weren't friends. If he was going to self-destruct, though, he had every chance of bringing her down with him, so she was going to have to care at least enough to contain this. That, and — well, she didn't want him to self-destruct. He was kind, and sincere, and if the situation had been different she might have found that at least a little charming. It was the situation that was unkind, and because they were in this situation his sincerity was a liability rather than a benefit.

What she really wanted to say in response was just his name — in the same way that she might say Oh, Zach, if she needed to comfort her brother, or gently guide him back from doing something he might later regret. Despite knowing the sentiment she wanted to convey, however, she didn't know which word to use. She knew his name, but she could not bring herself to call him Lachlan out loud, and any other possibility sounded too stiff and formal for the feeling she was trying to convey.

After a second of debate, she decided not to say it at all. This wasn't her problem to fix, at the end of the day; he could handle rumors (or not handle them) however he liked, and it needn't reflect poorly on her unless he came out and openly accused her of writing the article that had started the work of clearing their names. He'd already promised not to do that, so while she felt guilty for leaving him like this, she decided that someone else could talk him down.

"Alright," she said, setting her tea cup down and rising to move towards the floo. She had reached the fireplace but not yet picked up the powder when a thought occurred to her. "Wait," she said, turning back to him and crossing her arms. "If I leave, you're not going to do anything — I don't know, stupid and impulsive, are you?"

The following 1 user Likes Juliana Ainsworth's post:1 user Likes Juliana Ainsworth's post
   Lachlan MacFusty

---

Prof. Marlowe Forfang

Jules

With each creak of the floorboards under her feet the muscles in his chest tightened a little more. He didn't want her to go. He knew that. But he also didn't want to explain why she was the best person for him to talk to, that anyone he still considered a friend was also a liability. He hadn't had anyone so close to him since... since Fallon, and he couldn't think about her without his expression darkening. He stood stiffly, his breath heavy and hard as he waited for the sound of her exiting through the flames, but instead there was a long pause. Then, she spoke.

And he could have laughed. Lachlan did all sorts of destructive things when he was sad, but none of them could be described as "impulsive". It was far more rewarding to feel the pain get increasingly worse as the days passed, to be able to tell himself over and over that he was the cause of his pain and that he deserved it. That he was the one who'd killed a woman, the one that had ruined his friendships, that had lost what happiness he might have had—and now he was gong to be alone dealing with this, and so was his family because the scandal was painted across the cover page of Witch Weekly, and it was all because he'd tried to save Miss Binns when she wasn't even in danger to begin with.

He didn't say anything. He didn't even move. If he waited long enough, she would just go.

---

  

---

— way too attractive set by mj <3 —

He didn't answer her, which, combined with her instinct which had caused her to ask the question in the first place, was answer enough. Juliana waited at the edge of the fireplace, growing more and more frustrated by his inability to just say no. Even if it was a lie, couldn't he have just promised her not to do anything crazy as a result of her leaving?

No, apparently he couldn't. Juliana let out an audible sigh of frustration and walked back to the sofa. She sat heavily, any attempt at ladylike propriety or grace abandoned, and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, you'd better put another kettle on, then," she said tersely. She was not going to give him an excuse to go do something stupid, when he was being all vulnerable and sensitive and dumb about everything, but that didn't mean she was pleased to be staying.

  

---

Prof. Marlowe Forfang

Jules

She let out a sigh, and then one, two, three steps across the floor, and finally the sound of the couch creaking as she sat back down on it. He opened his eyes, but made no move until she directed him to get some more tea. He silently turned and grabbed the tray, doing his best to keep his expression even and his eyes off her, but his gaze settled on her lap for moment before he wrenched it away to focus on carrying the tray. The last thing he needed was to drop it; he might look more upset than he really was, and on top of that he wasn't sure he had another kettle.

It did not take long to heat the kettle once he'd walked across the room and into the kitchen. He didn't do a lot of magic, but heating spells were necessary in the Hebrides at times and it was one of the things he was good at. He returned to the room, this time two glasses with two fingers of whiskey in each along with the two teacups and piping kettle. He sat down on the couch, poured the tea how she liked it, and passed it to her wordlessly. He sat back in his corner of the couch, reached out to grab his whiskey cup, and then sat there, unable to meet her gaze. He didn't know why she'd decided to stay, and he was afraid to ask. If she thought he wanted her pity, she was wrong; it would only make him feel worse.

---

  

---

— way too attractive set by mj <3 —

She was still annoyed as he took the tea tray away. This was emotional blackmail, was what it was. This overgrown puppy dog of a man had trapped her here with his brusque command for her to leave and his inability to commit to not doing anything stupid and his too-obvious misery and his confession from a moment ago about how he couldn't be alone when dealing with rumors. There was no way she could have just left after all that. She didn't even think he was aware of what a spectacle he was making of himself, was the thing, so she couldn't even be properly angry at him for it. She was angry, though — just not at him. Angry in general.

She took the tea cup and glanced at his whiskey cup, lips pursed. She had no intention of touching the second glass, which was presumably for her.

"I want biscuits, too," she said curtly, as she sipped the tea.

  

---

Prof. Marlowe Forfang

Jules