evanesco

who: @besmagdy​ where: ????

“Have you ever heard of that poison garden in London?” Vi was absolutely certain the answer would be yes– and on the off chance it wasn’t, she was well aware she would have to cancel her weekend plans to go look at dangerous plants with Bes. “I was thinking, I’d rather like to have a little window garden like that. Oleander’s got such beautiful flowers, doesn’t it?”

-

   Bes’ eyes brightened at the mention of the garden. He’d heard, of course, but he hadn’t gone. “Mhmm,” He nodded, “I’ve seen photographs, but I’ve not gotten to go. Have you?” He wondered, pleased to have found someone who understood his love for plants as well as he did. They were magnificent things, but then, so was Violet. “That sounds beautiful, Vi.” He agreed, thinking Oleander was lovely. “Why don’t we plan it out? We could go to the garden first, for inspiration?” He offered. 

The words appear next to a few pressed flowers, a stem, and a leaf. 

We live in an age where everything is staged Where all we do is fake our feelings I've been scared to put myself so out there Time is running out, yeah Need to let you know, that

Last night I woke the fuck up I realized I need you here, as desperate as that sounds, yeah-eh Last night I woke the fuck up I realized I need you here, as desperate as that sounds, yeah, yeah

ah, galya thought with a tinge of amusement, there it is. had bes magdy not straightened up, nothing would have seemed amiss. nevetheless, the motion set off alarms on her mind – there was something to hide, something uncomfortable. socialising was almost like fishing, you only had to choose the right bait. still, she remained quiet about her findings because even though the habit of fishing was ingrained in her brain through her years at hogwarts, the capture was very much a choice.

“i am all compliments this evening, i assure you” by then, her tone had grown slightly warmer – galya had startled herself with the reminders of the past, of the person she didn’t wish to be. it was hard to let go of the safety of the elite, that’s all. “and yes, things don’t always have to interesting” she continued while looking away to the gardens, “but then where is the fun?”. because lately everything had been about social functions and interviews and terrible conversations about terrible events. galya missed the easy parts of life, the interesting exchanges and the secrets told after a few drinks.

it made her think back to the good parts of hogwarts – of which there weren’t many for her as a slytherin; there were also several memories tainted by the very much alive ghost of edward. still, sometimes, the ravenclaws would have parties in which they brought something called alihotsy, also known as the hyena tree. in small doses and mixed with asphodel, the leaves would provoke laughter and euphoria. it planted an idea in her head.

“mister magdy, do you think you can procure me some alihotsy?” galya asked in a clear tone, eyes not leaving the gardens.

-

  Bes smiled, inclining his head at the promised complimentary nature of her evening. He admired Galina a great deal, though their relationship wasn’t one he would consider deep. It wasn’t a fault of hers, but rather intentional on Bes’ part. He couldn’t afford to be close to too many people. It was too dangerous. “I don’t disagree,” he hummed, amused by the way she handled him. She knew her way around an event like any other, but there was an air of grace and natural talent that Galina boasted that couldn’t be taught, only gifted through chance. “You’re seeking fun then?” He mused, wondering what her idea of entertainment would be. 

    He smirked, noting the name of the plant requested. Alihosty, meant for the laughing draught, but delightful for causing hysteria too. He nodded, “Of course, that’s very easy to procure.” He reassured, settling into business naturally. “How much would you need? Do you want to handle the leaves yourself, the entire plant? Do you want powder instead?” He questioned, requiring more information. He didn’t need to know her plans with it. What did he care? It would fetch a pretty sickle, the rest was her business. 

OPEN || FAWLEY ESTATE || 7 jan

It was one of those days that Agnes liked best - it was a day almost entirely about her and it was a Saturday. And what was so good about that combination? It was the perfect setup to effectively and automatically guilt anyone who considered bailing out of her birthday celebrations. So what if her birthday came on the very last day of the very first week of each and every new year? So what if idiots waited until January to make changes, call them resolutions, and pretend they wanted to be better people. Everyone knew the truth. And anyone who had any sense was going to be at the party later that evening – preparations for which, Agnes could see as she made her way lazily down the main staircase of her family’s home, were already underway. 

Every year, her parents went above and beyond for her big day. And her wonderful friends, oh, they’d spoil her to bits, too. And with Orpheus having already ensured her birthday’d been given the perfect start, Agnes was ready; ready to be the princess, ready for her spotlight, ready for the visitor waiting downstairs as her elf had promised. “The party doesn’t start until much later, darling, you’re very early. But I appreciate the enthusiasm, that’s the spirit.” She laughed, teasing her visitor easily, but it was all in good spirit and good fun – Agnes was in a wonderful mood. “What can I do for you this morning?”

-

   “I like seeing you when there aren’t a thousand people vying for your attention,” Bes insisted, having been intentional in dropping by Agnes’ early. He had a few reasons for it, the first being a desire to spend time with her without having to act. The second was both for his sake and her own. He needed something to wear to the party, but to afford something suitable for a birthday like hers, he’d need help. The last was to give her the sentimental gift, the one that had been carefully selected and didn’t need to be judged by hungry eyes. “I’ll only demand an hour of your morning, alright?” He pressed, having dressed suitably enough for now in his jumper, the one she’d gotten for him early in the season. 

     He leaned forward, hand going to her hip as he pressed his lips chastely to her cheek. “And of course I wanted to wish you a happy birthday, darling. You deserve all the finest today, and every day.” He purred, thankful that it was easy to navigate these things with her. If he had to name a best friend, Agnes would easily be near the top of that list, if not the top. 

Breathe, she told herself. This was the second time someone had noticed that something was wrong with her. While she had meant for this panic to rush her to Tom in a timely manner, it had evidently made her more noticeable than she would have liked to be. Persephone closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath to steady herself. “I’m fine,” she said a little too harshly than she had intended, “Everything is fine.” But Magdy wasn’t stupid and Seph knew that she was coming off a little more terse than normal. They had called her a ticking time bomb in school and in this instance…they were right to do so.

-

  Bes knew Persephone was full of shit. It was one of the benefits to being a bloody liar himself. He knew, more often than not, when people were bullshitting themselves and others. It was always the most interesting to watch someone try to fool themselves, but that wasn’t the case here. Persephone wasn’t lying to herself. “Is it?” He pressed, “because from where I’m standing, you look unsteady on your feet, Ms. Rowle. If you’re in some kind of trouble, I’m happy to help.” He offered. For a cost was simply the unspoken part, having someone in your debt was never a bad thing if done properly. 

”mister magdy… how nice to see you on this evening” galya greeted with a raised eyebrow, eyes discretely moving up and down the other’s frame in an analysis – hard habits to crack, those of pureblood society. no matter how much she would criticise their gossip and rumours, the dolohov youngest was very much a product of her upbringing. she flicked her cigarette over the edge of the veranda, fingers delicate. “ah, yes” was added in a dry tone, “too many people, indeed” – too many eyes on me. there was something interesting about the way bes magdy held the flower, something telling about his relationship with nature itself. whatever it was, galya much preferred to look back to the doors he had entered from, trying to discern whether other people might be coming through to disturb her peace. “still, much better circumstances than the last time i saw you…” the smile that accompanied the murmur was all teeth, something properly slytherin.

the last time they had met, galya had been looking into some venomous tentacula seeds – just in case, you know. “it’s always… interesting, meeting you, that is”.

- 

  Bes watched as Galina inspected him. He was used to it, though it did make him straighten just a bit, hoping she wouldn’t notice the slight fading in his suit jacket. He’d been a bit reckless wearing it, but it was comfortable. It wouldn’t make it through another party though, not without an enchantment. He’d have to figure something else out, as Agnes’ birthday party would be coming up quickly in the new year. He stayed quiet as she examined, taking note in return, of her dress, of the cigarette, of the way she held herself. “Isn’t it?” He agreed, thinking back to the last time they’d seen one another. It had been awhile. Galina was an interesting woman, certainly, and one he wasn’t sure how to approach, but he respected her, and for now that seemed to be enough. 

    “Thank you, I take that as a compliment.” he mused, thinking of the venomous tentacula. He lowered his voice, even though they were alone. “I have others, if you ever have need, or interest. Not everything need be so interesting.” He offered. 

where: somewhere outside Knockturn Alley

who: open to anyone

She had seen it. Seen the bright green symbol that illuminated the sky. She knew what it had meant. Of course, she had. Persephone was on edge now with the deed being done. Though her nerves had never manifested in the way that everyone else’s did. Hers manifested as anger. Along with every other feeling she ever had. Tom had asked her, as a birthday gift, to use her own ‘gift’ to see what she could. But she was in no way a seer, just very good at divination. She always had been. However, Seph was terrified of telling him no and after all… What were friends for? That was what Tom said every time he extended an olive branch her way. She needed a favor done? Tom was on it. Needed a place to stay? She was always welcome at his. Though she as beginning to wonder if his kindness and olive branches were more of a manipulation than out of the kindness of his heart and friendship.

But one evening after she had very little sleep, Seph had ruined one of her tarot decks. ‘Shit,’ she had muttered under her breath before setting out to buy a new one. Seven. That was how many decks she actually had but each and every one of them had not given her a clear answer and left her more confused than when she started her reading. Persephone had tried using her pendulum, scrying, reading tea leaves and dream work. But none of them were giving her answers. Not ones that she understood at least. Though that could arguably be from her lack of sleep. Sleep deprived and rushed, Seph all but ran out of Knockturn Alley in hopes that no one who knew her had spotted her.

-

   Life continued. That was something Bes had learned from a very young age. Life continued, and when it didn’t affect you personally, it continued even faster. Of course he’d heard the gossip and rumor, the hushed whispers, the louder opinions making him cringe. He’d seen the papers too, jumping at the opportunity to have the best, most comprehensive information about the snake in the sky, but Bes simply didn’t give a shit. He knew as well as anyone that they’d replace her, and things would continue as they had. He didn’t know what to make of the weird mark in the sky, but it was senseless to jump to conclusions, and he wasn’t scared of it. He had no reason to be. Clearly whoever had made it had been making a statement, but if people had so many questions, they hadn’t done a good enough job, had they? 

    He was on his way to visit Burke, to drop off some herbs from Noltie’s that he’d promised. His lunch hour was almost up, but Noltie never seemed to mind if he was a bit later coming back into the shop. He always did quality work, and he stayed late often. She couldn’t complain. He turned, heading down to Knockturn when Persephone all but ran into him. He frowned, noting that she was rushing, but she seemed upset as well. He moved, placing himself back into her path, though careful not to touch her or risk getting himself hexed. “Hey, hey, slow down.” He urged, gently. His eyes watched her, concerned. “Did something happen, Ms. Rowle? Are you alright?” He pressed. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if something had happened, but he didn’t often see her rattled. That worried him far more than the big scary mark in the sky. 

“Mmmm…. Wise words,” she teased, her smile bright and playful, “very well chosen. Smart thing, you.” Of course, Agnes knew better than to think Bes would insult her to her face, no he had the grace to do it behind her back if he were going to do it all, like any real friend would – but sometimes, even when laying it on thick, he had an earnestness about him that spoke volumes of the fondness between them. “You’re a flatterer. Lucky you, I still like that sort of thing.” But then, this was still Agnes, and Agnes tended to be her brightest when she felt she was the center of attention, so while Bes needn’t have laid it on quite so thick, she was glad that he had, because for at least the next short while she was assured of entertainment.

“Oh, and a dance? Hmm, you’ve certainly learned who you’re dealing with, haven’t you? Apology accepted, I’d love a dance.” It was with an extra laugh that she placed her hand into his, but place it she did, nonetheless. “Mr. Magdy,” she added, her grin brightening and twisting into a devilish little smirk. “You’d better, we’d all better. We can’t forget, or spend too long in either place. It takes teamwork, sometimes.”

-

   Bes laughed, appreciating Agnes’ playful approval. He ducked his head teasingly, “Thank you, darling, I do my best.” He responded, knowing it wasn’t necessary for him to be so large about it, but he enjoyed flattering Agnes and she deserved to hear all the praise she could want. “As if you’d ever change your mind on it, you’d be sad if there was no one to flatter you as you deserve.” He teased, amused. He wouldn’t classify Agnes as needy by any stretch of the imagination, but there was no sense pretending she didn’t like attention, or praise lavished upon her. She was spoiled, and there was nothing wrong with identifying the fact. 

   He held her hand, watching as she accepted his ‘apology’, amusement continuing. It was easy to act this way with Agnes. He didn’t have to think twice with her, not really, and that was the most refreshing part. He could almost be himself with her. He guided her further into the room, so that they could dance among other couples. “I’d like to think I’ve picked up on a thing or two over the years, Fawley.” He smirked as he began to go through the motions. He had no doubt Agnes would take over, but he could begin. He’d learned enough dances over the years. “I won’t forget,” He reassured, “but why shouldn’t I find you first, hm? Georgie is a bright woman, she’d never expect anything less of me.” He noted. 

-

“It is rather have the feel of stolen history, doesn’t it?” Monty whispered conspiratorially. They were English, after all. It felt a bit appropriate that some of this didn’t really belong to them. The Potters had given most of theirs back by now. A few were apparently heirlooms and of significant family importance, so Monty couldn’t quietly return them until Charlus gave him permission. That was okay though. He could wait.

“Do you think the food tonight had mummy in it? I mean, it probably didn’t. We’ve not eaten mummy in decades and it was pretty rare, but it seems like the sort of occasion that would call for it, y’know?” Monty said, voice beginning to raise from a hush as he got excited. “Isn’t it a bit funny? We just ate ash for a while. Because it was ancient ash.”

–

   Bes smirked at the description. Stolen history. That was a good way of putting it. He remained quiet as Fleamont prattled on. He didn’t mind the Potters, they were respected, but he wouldn’t claim to be close to any of them either, but Merlin could the man talk. He’d been foolish to invite the conversation, so he was stuck in it now. He nodded in agreement at the assessment of the Shafiq estate, not really thinking twice about it, it just seemed like the expected response. He paused though, at the information. 

    “Do I––” He shook his head, “Merlin, no.” He insisted, thinking Fleamont had lost his mind. “There was no mummy in the food tonight, don’t be absurd.” He paused, “New Years. Eve is hardly a worthy enough cause to––” He couldn’t believe he was actually indulging this, having this conversation. Fleamont seemed genuinely excited about it too. He lifted his hand to his nose, fingers smoothing out the tension. “I think they served a respectable and traditional meal from our century, Fleamont. Humans will always do pointless things for the sake of glory, or pride, or false notion of betterment. You wanna eat ancient ash? Be my guest, I suppose, but I wouldn’t go around suggesting the Shafiq’s are poisoning us with secret additions to our meals.” He advised. 

location: the shafiqs’ ballroom status: open

galina had barely wanted to get out of her bed the last few weeks, but her mother was quite insistent on her attendance at the event ─ she still put off attending for as long as she could. at least the champagne was good was the thought on her mind while she crossed the room to look for a place to hide, very visibly trying to look unapproachable. some eyes had widened upon glancing at her, which galina attributed to her dress ─ ever since giving edward his ring back, she had taken to wearing white dresses that somewhat resembled wedding ones in an attempt at humour. (but never the one, that one stayed in the back of her rather large closet and galya swore never to touch it again.)

finally, her hands gripped the doors to a veranda and she moved outside quickly. the younger dolohova took a deep breath before looking through her clutch for her cigarettes ─ she felt a bit desperate for a fag before being inevitably dragged inside again, as it always was with these events. quite the sight: a former bride in white trying to light a fag, her champagne flute abandoned on the table to the side.

-

   The dress was perhaps too much, Bes had to admit, even if he was far from the authority on appropriate attire for these events. Gossip spread like vines up a brick wall, whispers of her boldness and how pathetic it was, poor little Dolohova still mourning the loss of her engagement. It was a mix, both positive and bitter, but not something Bes cared to comment on. Instead he stoped beside her, eyes flicking up and down her frame as he spotted the cigarette. He thought about asking for one, but he wasn’t really a smoker. It wasn’t to his taste, so he let it be. “Ms. Dolohova,” He greeted, smile soft. He liked Galya, even if she was a bit younger. She was easy enough to be around. “Far too busy in there, isn’t it?” He asked, moving to circle the veranda, stopping as his fingers lifted to trace the petal of a winter flower. It was a hearty thing, to deal with the blistering wind and the cold.

“That’s because trashy is always attractive when the lights go low,” Agnes teased, leaning forward as she waved her hand like she were laughing away the flattery. Of course, Agnes Louise Fawley not only owned nothing that could be categorized as trashy, she would never have let herself be seen that way, and she felt entirely confident in that joke, and that, even if he laughed along, there was no way anyone could mistake it for agreement. Not even her, no matter how hard she tried. She offered up her drink without an argument, though; She’d had plenty, and she was sure it wouldn’t be long before some server or other wandered by.

“I’d wondered where you were, or when you were planning to grace us with your presence,” she admitted, letting her eyes fall on the taller man for several moments instead of gazing out at the crowd. “But I suppose I should have seen that one coming.” Bes did love things best when they came from the earth and had a very low chance of speaking. And gardens that were rarely accessible to the public? Yeah, Agnes, that was a given, “I’ve been in and out, up and down stairs, to Georgie’s tent and back. She’s got another party going out there, don’t forget. You’ll break her heart if you don’t make an appearance.”

-

   Bes couldn’t help but laugh at the response, shaking his head in disagreement at once. “While you’re certainly attractive when the lights go low, it’s not possible for you to pull off trashy, darling. You have that natural elegance about you,” he teased, though it was true too. Where people could at times read the fake money all over Bes, they’d be hard pressed to believe the opposite about Agnes. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t envy her for it. It seemed natural to Agnes, her responses, movements, choices, all without a second’s hesitation. He wished things were so simple for him. After years of practice, he thought he’d be better at it by now. It didn’t matter, in the end, he was fine. He took the drink, eyes bright in response as he lifted it to his lips, exhaling as the expensive drink cooled his throat. “Thank you,” he offered in kind, leaning over to press a chaste kiss to her temple.

    His smile reached his eyes at the comment. It was nice to be known by someone. “It’s typically a safe bet,” he agreed, “but I do apologize for staying afar for too long. How about I make it up to you, mm?” He asked, raising a brow as he set aside the now empty flute and offered his hand, “will you honor me me with a dance, Ms. Fawley?” He asked. He was never one to choose to dance, but it was easy with Agnes, and it would give them time to keep talking with very little risk of anyone interrupting. He chuckled, not the least bit surprised by the way she’d moved about, “Of course she does,” He hummed, “I promise to make an appearance before the end of the night.” He reassured. 

“The Shafiqs must not have as good of a supplier.” Vi laughed, not particularly hearing if anyone overheard that comment. Whatever offense might come of it was worth the chance of pointing a few more clients toward her friend. And if the Shafiqs really cared, they could track down Edward to tattle on her. Merlin help them. “There’s likely some interesting ones in the gardens, but you’d have to face the tent horde.”

She looked around for a moment, trying to remember where the library was before she set off. “Theoretically, but I’m not sure if I actually will. Maura– the sister who got detention for drowning a mandrake– and I are supposed to be sharing a guest room but I’d rather die. Are you staying?”

-

   Bes smirked, pleased with the compliment paid in return. Technically he worked for someone else, but he had quite the quiet side business from Noltie’s that kept the homes of those closest to him well furnished with plants and all manner of flowering things. “You’re too kind, darling.” He purred, before offering his arm to her in case she wanted it. He wouldn’t be offended either way, it was simply the gentlemanly thing to do. “Speaking of which, when you’re back in London you’ll need to drop by, I’ve some new things for you, supplies to make care easier and strengthen some of your smaller plants, but also new ones for you to take home.” He offered, before shaking his head at the idea. “Perhaps later I’ll coax you into the gardens to see them, but I’m happy to avoid the horde for now.” He confessed. 

    He continued with her, excited to see the no doubt grand library the Shafiq’s owned. He wondered if they kept a close record of their collection, or if he might be able to get away with taking home a souvenir. He tabled the thought for now, listening. “Horrid woman, what purpose did she have drowning the damned thing?” He sighed, finding it more than a little distasteful to drown the plant. “I’ve not decided myself, I thought to see the party for myself before choosing.” 

OPEN || Shafiq Estate (party, or just wandering around during the party) 

Abe didn’t have a lot of rules for New Year’s. Well, to be fair, to some, Abe’s insistence on these things he did not do would technically count as rules, they were as follows: he did not make resolutions, he never showed up at any party on that specific date with a date, he didn’t kiss people at midnight (he kissed them, if he decided to kiss anyone, whenever the hell he felt like it), and skipped any event that seemed like a genuinely more interesting alternative to keeping the pub open.

Remember, those were things Abe wouldn’t do. So, naturally, Abe had a tent. That tent, of course, had a fully functional bar (small, personal) inside it. The bar, then, as we wouldn’t have had it any other way, was stocked from his favorite shelf at the pub. He’d been in and out of the tent all evening – the hubbub and the people, and the buzz, fuck, the buzz off that many voices in one room, was just enough to make Aberforth he’d had a better reason to stay home. “I’m thinking about ringing in an Australian New Year … which … by math should be in, like, the next hour. What do you say?”

-

   He’d wandered, aimlessly, for some time. The problem with wanting to fit into these things, but never quite managing to, was that it was isolating even when there were hundreds of people around. The Shafiq’s rules made it easier for Bes to attend, of course, but it also meant that the clear cut expectations had been skewed. He hated that. He wanted to know exactly what he was meant to be doing and with who and when and where. He craved it, the promise of stability that order and boundaries and rules set in place. 

    Bes frowned, Aberforth certainly not among his list of people he wanted to spend his time forcing small talk with. “No.” He replied, curtly. He had no intention of ringing in any New Years save for the one in their time zone, though he didn’t mind the idea of more ( free ) drinks. “I’m surprised your here, do you not usually have some outrageous celebration at the pub?” He wondered, finding that such a scene seemed to fit better with his understanding of Abe than camping by the Shafiq’s. He sighed though, “Why wait an hour? Do you have a drink now?” He asked. 

OPEN || EVENT

Agnes was going to be staying in the Shafiq home that evening, but that didn’t mean that she was going to stay in ‘her room’ all day. The very idea was, truthfully, probably, the furthest thing from the truth possible at that moment. No, she’d pass the afternoon with the girls, just like always. and it was going to be plenty of fun but she wondered, for a moment, whether she should head straight for where Georgie had already promised she would be by the time Agnes arrived (Georgie could be counted on to be where she said she’d be when she said she’d be there) or … if … perhaps …. she should play ‘hello, neighbor’ for a bit first, to satisfy the curiosity and see who’d be staying where.

 In the end, she’d ended up doing both, only to retreat back into the house and emerge from her room for supper looking like an entirely different person in her own eyes. Straightened hair and a dress with a hemline an inch shorter than usual? The bodysnatchers had come, how fun. One last look to throw out with the bathwater as far as she was concerned, but it hadn’t stopped her slinking around the ballroom and eavesdropping on people who hadn’t recognized her right away. 

Eventually though, even she got bored, and found herself a drink and a patch of wall to lean on. “Heard anything juicy so far?”

-

   Dinner had been fine enough, but Bes was admittedly bored. He’d kept mostly to himself throughout the day, spending a bit of it with Vi, some of it wandering the grounds, curious about it all, especially the gardens. Those had been particularly interesting to him, he’d admired the collection the Shafiq’s had acquired, but the night was still long before them and he was in the mood to find company again. It was part of the deal, he needed to be seen, smiling and talking with the right people. He made his way to the ballroom, having changed in one of the guest bathrooms nobody else had been using. Though changed was hardly the correct word, he’d used a spell to change the color of his outfit, but it was the same. He didn’t have another to put on at the moment, but these events required wardrobe changes. 

    As if to prove his point, there was Agnes, looking as stunning as ever, though very different. “Look at you darling, this is a good look for you,” he complimented, not hiding the way he looked her over, giving the attention he knew she enjoyed. He eyed her drink, smirking, “share a sip, I find I suddenly am need of it.” He teased, not the least bit shy about flirting with her. They both knew what this was, and where they stood. “Unfortunately I’ve just gotten here,” he added, “I spent more time in the gardens. The Shafiq’s have an impressive collection.” He shrugged. “What about you? Have you enjoyed your night so far?”

It wasn’t unusual, naturally, to get this kind of reaction – especially when you were effectively cold-calling strangers, shouting at them on the street and putting them on the spot – but Podric, as ever, didn’t let it phase them. Or, at least, they didn’t let it show how it sent a chill down their spine to listen to someone be so …. cynical. In general, usually, but now? at the holidays? What could that possibly be ding for anyone, being so nasty? It couldn’t be doing anything good. Smiles were good, though, so Bat plastered one on, and straightened their spine, holding their shoulders high. 

“I can’t speak for everyone in the organization, but I’m usually in the game room of some orphanage or other, playing with all the kids.” They shrugged, feeling nothing but (genuine) humble pride in the admission. “Some of the volunteers have their Christmas on Boxing Day, though, to spend the day and day before with the kids. Again, man, I can’t speak for everyone, just for myself. And there probably are organizations out there, who are taking advantage of people’s good will, and I’m really sorry if you’ve encountered one of them, but this … isn’t that. This is for real.”

-

   Bes knew he was being harsh, of course he did, but as someone who had at times been on the receiving end of such charity, he felt it was his right and his responsibility to call out all the bullshit. This time of year was full of it, of people pretending to be merry and have good intentions, but greed and scams were just as prevalent. He listened though, allowing Podric their ability to speak to his questions, to actually answer them if they wanted to. His arms remained crossed stiffly over his chest, his face betraying nothing of what he thought of their answers. He loathed Podric. This fucking upstart who had somehow figured it all out so easily, it felt fake. This kindness, this impossibly good person shtick that had to have been exhausting. How had he fooled so many people with it? 

    “What a great sacrifice, pushing Christmas off to Boxing Day.” He grumbled, having absolutely encountered such organizations. “It’s just all bullshit, you know that right? You get your feel good points for the day and you move on. That’s what most people do.” He insisted, before shaking his head. “Look, whatever. I’m sure you have great intentions, you volunteer every bloody day, all the little orphans love you.” He rattled, irritation only growing worse. “But nobody needs you screaming at them on the street.” He insisted.