26 March, 1890 — Pettigrew Estate, Lancashire

"So here's a legal question for you," Thom said, as he refilled both of their drinks from the tray the servants had left out on the table before letting the two of them alone on the patio. It was drizzling, but a weather charm encircling their chairs kept the droplets away from them, which was as good as having a gazebo, in Thom's estimation. Somewhere inside, Odessa and Alexander were probably tormenting poor Lysander; although they squabbled like any siblings when it was just the two of them in the house, they had a habit of banding together when any younger children came to visit. Under the supervision of the nanny, however, they were unlikely to do any real damage, which meant whatever happened would boil down to character building for August's ward.

"Say, hypothetically, that a lot of the World Cup players were on my payroll — British and otherwise," he said, returning to the chairs and handing August his drink. He was assuming, of course, that many of the Puddlemere players would make the team, because if he didn't think they were among the best in the league he wouldn't have hired them in the first place — but he'd also been considering sponsoring some foreign players even before news of the World Cup had broken. Different leagues had different rules on such things, and he wasn't looking for another major investment — but if he could outfit one of the star players in one of the other leagues in exchange for some free publicity for Quality Quaffle and Snitch, he was certainly interested in exploring that avenue.

"Do you think I'd get into any trouble? I mean, it certainly feels like it shouldn't be allowed — but I'm not sure who would actually do anything about it," he remarked as he took his own seat again.

August Echelon-Arnost

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   Zelda Darrow

If he wasn't used to Thom asking questions involving the word 'legal' by now, August likely would have had a sense of dread. As it was, he simply leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his drink. As Thom expanded, he started running through options in his mind; insider trading, maybe, bribery, perhaps, 'irritating the league' likely. Irritating the league was not illegal, but it was frowned upon, and would make future contracts more difficult to execute.

If it wasn't for Thom, August would know significantly less about Quidditch. As it was, he had a strong sense for the ins-and-outs of the sport, and had known about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup almost as soon as it had been announced. (This was entirely a Thom-thing - the details of Siegfried's career were not particularly interesting to August. As it were.)

Or the legal ramifications could be nothing at all; payroll could fit under a wide definition. August took another sip of his drink before setting the glass down, the questions bouncing around inside his head.

"It depends on the services for which you were paying them," August said, "What do you have in mind?"

---

  

Thom wrinkled his nose at the term services; it made him think of prostitution, more than anything in the realm of Quidditch, even though he supposed it was technically correct. August was a lawyer; being technically correct was his entire life, as it were.

"Well, I pay Puddlemere to play, obviously," he said, leaning back in his chair. "And I'm not planning on trying to do anything with the other British players. It wouldn't look good," he reflected. The relationship he had with his team was a bit more hands-on than the relationship most sponsors enjoyed with their teams. He didn't just throw money at them and let everyone else make the decisions; he was heavily invested, both financially and emotionally, in their success. Cavorting around with some other player, with any purpose other than trying to covertly get them to switch teams, would have felt like a betrayal to his poor players. More of a betrayal, ironically, than sleeping with a woman other than his wife.

"But I've been thinking of getting some of the more prominent international players involved in QQS," he explained. "As... brand ambassadors, I suppose. Have them outfitted in the latest and greatest and mention some stellar gear in an interview after a big win, something like that. Watch the local market for our gear climb every time they win."

  

August tilted his head to the left. "Shouldn't be illegal with a good contract," he said, "As long as they're not sponsored by manufacturers in their home countries - they may be contracted to other suppliers, as you know." He tapped his fingertips against the side of his glass.

"And the league would probably frown upon any interview-specific language in the contracts, but of course, if they happen to have new QQS gloves and they happen to mention gear as part of their gameplay - well, that would be fine," he said. Finding loopholes for Thom was a not-insubstantial part of his career; this loophole did not even bother him.

---

  

"Fantastic," Thom replied enthusiastically. He did not even bother to comment on August's word of caution, having decided immediately that it did not apply to him. He wasn't planning on having Puddlemere players out promoting his gear, after all — they were quite well established within Britain and didn't need the sales boost. It was only in foreign markets when he thought that sort of thing would help give him an extra push, and what could the British Quidditch League possibly have to say about what he was doing with foreign players in foreign countries? He didn't really care if the French League, for instance, thought he was a cad, because what could they do about it? They couldn't keep him from sponsoring his team, and they wouldn't have any grounds to actually remove his products from the market unless there was something qualitatively wrong with them, which there wouldn't be.

"So what've you been up to while I've been abroad?" he asked, leaning back in his chair as though to soak up the sun, though it was still drizzling. "Meet anyone?" That would have been interesting, which was why Thom asked; he had very little hope of it having happened, however, since August was August.

  

August made a mental note to revisit this later, when they weren't drinking, so that he could either write or look over the contracts. One of his duties as Thom's friend was to attempt to keep him out of as much legal trouble as possible.

He took a sip of his drink and glanced at the drizzle outside of their little dome. "Not really," August said easily, which was to say that he had met people, because he was not a total recluse, but he had not met anyone in the sense that Thom wanted. "Wrapped up the case with that vampire, though."

---

  

"Ugh," Thom said, at the mention of the vampire case. "Good. It doesn't do your reputation any favors, you know, muddling about with vampires," Thom pointed out. He knew that nothing he said was going to stop August from going and doing the same thing in the future, but he felt obligated, as his friend, to point these things out every once in a while.

"You keep on with too many of these things and you'll find yourself dis-invited from all of the parties except mine," Thom teased lightly. "And you know my quota of questionable party guests has no trouble filling itself."

  

August laughed. "I don't think that's the first time you've told me that," he said easily. He had heard the same thing from countless people, over the years, and had managed to skate by relatively unscathed. Unmarried, alone - but unscathed.

" She was innocent, it was the right thing to do," August said. The right thing: his easiest, and longest-term, motivation.

"But I think I'm done with vampires."

Lyra was gone. He didn't know where, but she was gone. And if he kept talking to vampires, Lysander would be caught. And that - that he could not emerge from.

---

  

"Bah! Everyone's innocent," Thom said dismissively. Not that he really believed that, of course, but he could believe that August was, at times, a little too eager to believe a sob story from someone who seemed to be an Oppressed Victim of the Legal System. It was common knowledge, at this point, that he would work for free if he thought you were both innocent and helpless without him, so why on earth would some poor penniless soul (or a vampire) ever admit to wrongdoing in his presence? August was an idealist, and it was one of the things Thom liked about him, but that idealism could on occasion cross the line into intentionally-maintained naivete.

"But I'm glad to hear it," he continued. "If you're done being the voice of accused murderers for a bit, maybe we can get you involved in something more fun this season."

(Not that Thom expected he would have time to make a Project of August this season, with the Quidditch World Cup and his own team and industry to manage, but there was always hope that he might stumble into something himself with only some gentle prodding. Slim hope, but hope nonetheless).

  

Maybe he should take a step out of noteworthy cases for a minute - actually do something fun, like Thom suggested. August doubted he would ever be fond of society, but he could try a bit more - and a break from representing the famously-accused would give him a moment. Of course, August also knew, even as he thought it, that he would go back on his word sooner or later.

"My mother would thank you for the suggestion," August said with a laugh. "We'll see if anyone needs me before the summer."

With the Quidditch World Cup back in town, he anticipated that he was going to have to learn more about the national roster and the foreign teams if Thom was going to talk to him at all during the summer.

---

  

"Oh," Thom said, with mock enthusiasm. "Well, you know how much I live to please your mother." Thom was not particularly fond of the Echelon-Arnosts, as a family. August, obviously, was fine, and a few of the others seemed to have turned out alright in the end. The family tree also included Elsbeth, however, who might have been Thom's least favorite person in existence with the exception of Art Pettigrew (who only earned that distinction over her because of his association with Thom's last name). Given that her parenting was also responsible for producing Hannah's father — who had been an asshole, first and foremost, but as it turned out also a terrible criminal besides — Thom had very little respect for her wishes or opinions in any given situation.

(Besides, there was something not quite right about having quite that many children; there was no particular need for it and she clearly wasn't doing it all that well to begin with).

"The season seems to be off to an early start," he commented. "Hannah already has a pile of invitations for April. Maybe everyone's of a mind to get things in before the Quidditch Cup kicks off," he joked, though he doubted this was weighing very heavily on anyone's schedule considerations except his.

  

"I never really understood the seasonal calendar," August said. It appeared to be a female thing; other than winter being unnecessarily cold, it had never made sense to August that things went on ice (hypothetically) for so many months. Not that he was complaining - one could only skip so many balls before it was frowned upon.

"Other than brand ambassadors, any plans for Quidditch-themed events?" he asked. He didn't doubt that Thom had several events in mind; he always did.

---

  

"Oh, dozens of plans," Thom said with a lazy shrug. "But they're all at the half-formed stage at the moment. We'll have to see how the World Cup roster turns out." Thom threw of lot of spur-of-the-moment events, based on things that had only been fleeting thoughts two weeks prior. This was probably not something his wife found endearing, but he had never bothered to ask, and anyway, she'd known he had a proclivity for such things before they'd married. It was definitely not something his assistant appreciated, since the brunt of the planning responsibility for these events fell on his shoulders, but that was why Thom paid him — to put up with things like that.

"I'll let you know when your presence is required," he joked, sipping on his drink. "But I won't have time to drag you out to other people's parties. You'll have to take some initiative for socializing on your own shoulders," he chided lightly.

  

"Mm," August hummed. "Maybe I should. I've recently been told that I have a tendency to not show up." Well, Mrs. Selwyn had not been so direct, but it had been implied.

---

  

"You say that as though it surprises you," Thom remarked mildly. "But everyone knows you do it on purpose, you know; you aren't fooling anyone." There had been various points in his life when August had had excuses for being anti-social, to an extent — when his fiancee had died, when he'd suddenly acquired a ward and needed to adjust his household to accommodate the boy, when his fiancee had shown up again undead. Even before any of that, though, August had never exactly been the darling of society; he only seemed to enjoy himself on the fringe, and he knew better now than to indulge too much in fringe-of-society events. Having one's leg run over by a carriage would do that for you, Thom supposed.

"You aren't very convincing when you pretend to care about these things," he pointed out. "Honestly, even I'm not convinced you wouldn't have slipped off to a life as a recluse in a cave somewhere if you hadn't had a friend like me to make sure you saw the sunlight every now and then."

(Thom had not been intending the comment as a reference to the vampire-fiancee thing, but realized belatedly that it might certainly have come across that way. Oh, well. It wasn't as though he could still be sensitive about it; she was dead, mostly.)

  

The thing with Thom and Leon was that they had known August too long and too well for him to cast his usual airs; he couldn't even really be annoyed, because he knew that Thom was probably right. Of course, there was the thing about the cave - August couldn't tell whether or not that was a purposeful mention of Lyra, and raised an eyebrow at Thom. He almost said something, but - what was the point? Lyra was gone; she was not going to come back, at least not in a way that made a meaningful change to August's life. That much had to be clear.

"Yes, well," he said, "Maybe it's time to do something else."

Except that he still had no interest in society.

---