(no subject)

[clumsy_auror]

*He's banging around in the study again.

Nymphadora rolls her eyes and tries to tune him out.

It's not working very well.*

Comments

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*Bernard doen't like to consider his own home a jail, but how can he not?

He tries to work on the latest prototype. It's just not coming together right.

A piece of metal might be pitched across the room.*

[clumsy_auror]

*She hears the metal glancing off the bookshelves and heaves a sigh.

Enough is enough.

Nymphadora goes and opens the study door.*

Bernard, I can hear your blood pressure going up.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Golly. I wonder why.

*He's sitting at his desk, head in hands.*

[clumsy_auror]

*She leans against the doorframe.*

Look, why don't you go do something else for a while? You're obviously not getting very far in here.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Huh.

Oh, I know! I could go tend Bar!





...Oh, wait.

[clumsy_auror]

No, that's true, you can't tend Bar. But you could go read your book, or work on that sketch you started this afternoon, or finish folding the laundry, or pretty much a million other things.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*He's quiet, trying to marshal his temper.*


I know.

You know, normally I don't mind being home a lot.

[clumsy_auror]

I know. It's the idea of it, more than anything.

*She crosses her arms over her chest, just watching him.*

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*He's... twitchy. A bit. All fidgets and restless movements. He stands and wanders around the room.*

You say 'jail,' I say 'even cinderblocks can burn given the right conditions.'

[clumsy_auror]

*dryly*

Well, please refrain from blowing your way out of the study. I'm rather fond of the paint job.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Oh, I dunno, I was beginning to reconsider.

[mnt_raph]

*There is a solitary knock on the front door to the flat.

When the door is open all that remains of the visitor is a baseball glove wrapped in twine. Further inspection will reveal the there is a ball tied inside the glove. That the glove itself has been freshly oiled. And most importantly, this particular glove only has been modified in such a way that it only accomodates three fingers.

This glove, which has been clearly loved and cared for, was just deposited on the doorstep with no note.
At this point, is one even necessary?

[clumsy_auror]

*Nymphadora pushes herself away from the doorframe and goes to answer the door. She returns a moment later, glove in hand, a perplexed look on her face.*

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*Bernard blinks and walks over, taking it.*



I know this glove.

[clumsy_auror]

Yeah? Do tell. There was nobody there, and no note.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*Bernard bites his lip, turning it in his hands carefully.*

It's Raph's.

[clumsy_auror]

...Oh.

*She tilts her head, and notices the three-finger modification.*

That was kind of him.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*Bernard blinks, then grins as if at a private joke.*

I'm no Steve McQueen.

And you'd murder me if I put even a scratch on these walls.

But it's the thought that counts.

[clumsy_auror]

Well.

*Nymphadora reaches out, brushing her hand over the leather.*

Next week you and he can go -- what's it called? -- have a catch.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*Bernard snerks*

Play catch.

But that's not what this is for, exactly.

[clumsy_auror]

No? What, then?

*She watches him look at the glove, a small smile on her face.

Finally, he's sufficiently distracted.

Mental note: buy Raph a drink.*

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Um.

*He unties the ball and throws it in the air.*

Did you ever see The Great Escape?

[clumsy_auror]

*She shakes her head.*

Nope. 'Fraid not.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Oh.

It's a muggle film. About a POW camp during World War II. Steve McQueen was this officer who kept breaking all the rules and got put into solitary all the time.

All he did, all day, was throw a baseball at the wall and catch it.

*He's still grinning at the ball.*

[clumsy_auror]

Oh. Oh, I see. That does make sense.

*She smiles at him for a moment, and then leans forward to kiss him on the cheek.*

...Steve McQueen, huh?