Edgar Bones

The redhead rolled her eyes as he teased her about Alastor. “Alastor looks out for everybody. I’m sure I’m no more important than you, Kingsley, Dorcas, and everyone else he looks out for.” She said with a wave of her hand. Nimona never really tried to let herself believe she was uniquely special to Alastor. It was one of the few ways she tried to mask whatever little feelings of something more she had for him.

Nimona didn’t try to mask the entirety of her fear in front of Edgar, however.  He knew her well enough to be able to put together that something was a little off in her demeanor. She smiled though when he started to talk about the good in their world. Nimona nodded, smiling a bit wider as he said that they weren’t all lost yet. She reached over, putting her hand on his own for a moment and squeezed. “You’re right. For all the bad, there’s also a lot of good. There’s people like you.” She murmured genuinely and took her hand back. With people like him, Hestia, and Alastor around, Nimona promised herself that she’d start trying to not go instinctively to the bad but to focus on the good first.

“Enough about the not so great things though. I want to hear about how you’ve been. Giving Alastor a run for his money with Auror things? Winning the hearts of all the girls? Spending time with that doll of a sister of your’s? What has the great Edgar Bones been up to the last few weeks since I’ve seen you?” She asked, hoping one of the prompts she’d offered would get him talking about an easier subject than the upcoming war. Nimona was sure they all dwelt on it for too long when they were alone. The least she could do was try to coax out a softer subject for the time they’d be together.

Edgar wasn’t an ace auror for nothing-- he could see there was something there between his two friends, even if neither of them wanted to admit it. Hell, the way Alastor brought her name up twenty times a day was enough to make anyone suspicious. Still, he knew what it was like to have feelings you weren’t ready to talk about it, so he wouldn’t push if she didn’t want to go there.

He squeezed her hand back tight, grateful for her friendship and for the goodness she seemed to radiate like a force against the darkness. He wondered if she realized how truly remarkable she was; so many people were losing their hope these days. But her smile and the warmth of her hand against his were some of the things that made him so certain they would win this. The other side didn’t have that. It didn’t have love and friendship and belief in the ultimate goodness of people, and that would be the tipping point. It would have to be. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t deflect with a bit of humor, though. “And without people like you, I’d be stuck drinking alone, which nobody wants to see,” he replied with a laugh. He gave her hand one more squeeze, though, for all the words he couldn’t find.

At her questions, he let out a long breath. For a moment, he considered going the route of humor again; it was certainly safest. But it wasn’t honest. And after the recent scare they had all had, he felt a little more like being honest; after all, what was the point of it all if you just hid away from everything? “More like losing their hearts and breaking my own in the process,” he admitted. “One I’ve offered myself to so many times that it’s pathetic, really. And the other, I haven’t figured out how to casually ask out on a date without ruining everything. Which is equally pathetic.” He laughed, a little darkly. “But don’t tell anybody, or it’ll take years-- and way too many kisses-- to build my reputation back up.”

☼ EDGAR .

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Questions swarmed through his brain, fighting for his attention, but he pushed them away. He didn’t want questions right now, especially when he didn’t have the answers-- and he knew for sure he wouldn’t find them in her. 

She had to go and ask one of her own, of course. Breaking the spell in that way they could both do so effortlessly. It seemed like it was getting harder and harder to grasp onto those perfect moments, those moments where pretend was possible and he could believe he might just get to hold her heart for a few hours.

He shook his head at her question, trying to brush it away like all the hours. He leaned in for another kiss-- lips on lips was always so much easier than words-- but she was already pushing him away.

Anger and pain swept through him as she left him on the sofa, hair tousled and heart pounding. Was this it, then? Just seconds with her before she was leaving again?

How could he have been so stupid as to have trusted her?

“What the hell are you doing?” he burst out. Fine, then. If she wanted questions, he would give them to her. “Did this really mean so little to you?”

He was up now, standing in front of her with his heart on his sleeve, in his hands, offering it to her. It was stupid and reckless but he didn’t know how to stop doing it. She had owned pieces of him for far too long, even if she never wanted to claim them. “Do I mean so little to you?”

  “Prankster sounds less malicious than I meant to suggest.” Replacing some of the firework display with phallic symbols was more of a prank, he silently mused. Mouth bunching to the side as he tried to rephrase himself. “I am just thinking, Daddy Dark Magic might not have as solid a leash on his fighting dogs as he likes to think?” His brows shot up suggestively towards Edgar. Mulling it over with a smidgen of hope, because if they were less organized; they were easier to take down. “Good point. That itself ain’t too hard to put together though. Likely means they didn’t want to be seen. If someone was there in bloody full-body cloak and a damn mask, like we’ve had reports of, wouldn’t they want people to see them?”

A silent lopsided grin was all that answered Edgar’s remark about his headstone engraving. Watching the gleam of confidence grow in the man across from him admittedly made Alastor swell with pride in some small way. A quiet, ‘you’re doing great kid’, sat in his gaze for an elongated second. Before blinking rapidly at Edgar saying it had to be catchy. “How the hell do we do that? Make it into a nursery rhyme?” Alastor agreed, of course, it had to be palatable or people might ignore them. He’d just never been good with saying things in an appealing manner.

Alastor was a great mentor. Edgar wasn’t entirely sure if he realized that-- and he hadn’t yet found a way to put it in a card that didn’t sound stupid-- but it was true nonetheless. Edgar nodded thoughtfully as he sucked on the end of another twizzler. The sugar would help his brain think faster, he was sure. He was pretty sure. “You think they went rogue?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “And you’re right about it being pretty under the radar, but then-- what’s the point? Were they just trying to stir up a little chaos and cause a few nightmares?” Was it scarier to see one in cloaks and masks, or to realize they were blending in with everyone else?

Edgar grinned at the thought of Alastor reciting nursery rhymes. Did he even know any? He wondered if Alastor had frowned at their silliness even as a child. “Hey, don’t knock nursery rhymes. People remember them for decades,” Edgar countered. “But I wasn’t really thinking that. Maybe something more... exciting. Something that grabs people’s attention and makes them stop and look.” He quickly added, “We don’t want to scare them; we just... want them to be a little more alert.”

“I don’t think my reflexes have ever actually been that great,” Amelia retorted playfully, “have you seen how many times in my life I’ve tripped over my own feet, or nothing at all?” She chuckled, before adding, “I’d say my observational skills are a lot better though, but I’m sure you can scold and lecture me on that, since I know there’s no talking you out of it.” She grinned at him, knowing that he would probably just claim it was his big brother duty; though she still didn’t think it was all that important to worry about at the moment.

“Thank you,” She smiled softly at his words, assuming it meant that he hadn’t eaten and didn’t want to admit it to her. Still, as long as he was agreeing to make time to sit and eat with her, then she wasn’t going to be a brat and call him out on it; him eating and spending time with her was a lot more important to her, after all. “You act like I’ll ever stop worrying about your nutrition,” She pointed out, “That would be like you stopping worrying about everything else.”

Amelia chuckled then, adding, “yes, busy. I was trying to get as much done as possible, but then when my stomach started growling, my boss shooed me away. But I think that’s because I may have forgotten breakfast. Which, I am clearly fixing now, by getting food.” She smiled at him, not wanting him to worry about it, though she knew that he clearly would worry, just as much as she did. “So, what are you planning to get to eat?” She asked then.

Edgar waved a hand dismissively. “It’s because you’re so smart. You don’t need great reflexes when you’ve got that big brain of yours.” He would never miss a chance to brag about his sister, and he would always insist he wasn’t biased in the slightest. It should be obvious to anyone how wonderful she was. “And luckily, you’ve got me; you don’t need to worry about anything when I’m around.” His tone was still lightly teasing, but his eyes were serious, a promise to her that he would give the world to keep her safe.

He spread his hands out and made a noise of disbelief. “What is it with everyone worrying about my nutrition? I’ve been eating this way for twenty-one years, and it hasn’t landed in me in St. Mungo’s yet,” he teased. Still, he knew his eating habits left something (a lot of somethings, really) to be desired, and he was grateful to her for watching out for him. Even if that was supposed to be his job. “And it’s my job to worry; I’m the older brother. It’s your job to be sweet and adorable,” he added with a grin.

“Your boss isn’t working you too hard, is he?” He tried not to sound overprotective, he really did. Just because he regularly skipped meals didn’t mean he was okay with her doing it. He glanced up at the menu at her question, and after a moment said, “Pastrami and roast beef sandwich. Hearty, but not as unhealthy as greasy fish and chips. I get points for that, right?”

Edgar had been an unexpected friend in the beginning. Caradoc had always believed that the guy was too wrapped up in girls and shows of confidence to ever glance twice at some relative outcast like he’d been at the time. So, when the Hufflepuff had been kind, it took Caradoc a while to move past his own fears and allow him in. Now, he couldn’t imagine a life without Edgar in it. Caradoc didn’t get a lot of banter outside of Benjy, and Edgar always seemed willing to go at it with him, if only for jest. 

“The healer needs a long, hot bath and a nap.” He chuckled, raising his head from its lowered position to smirk at the other. “Oh, great. I was afraid I was going to have to wind up treating all the ladies’ broken hearts if that face of your’s got messed up.” Caradoc snorted, scrubbing over his jaw with his left hand. He quirked a brow as Edgar looked him over before humming in mild amusement. “The way you’re looking at me, I get the feeling you might want me to go with the latter option. Plans to crawl right in and cuddle with me or somethin’?” Doc jested before receding from the banter enough to give a proper answer. “I could do with something to eat before I go home. Company might not be the worst thing to go with it.”

He tucked his hands in his pocket, letting his head tilt enough to the right to insinuate he’d lead the way. His gait was slow enough for Edgar to fall into stride with him, but even then, he was moving faster than he was before now that he had company. “Nothing new going on?” Doc murmured, side eyeing the other. Doc wasn’t as close to the channels of the Ministry as Edgar was by being an Auror. He had wonder if they’d figured anything more out about what had provoked the fire.

Caradoc was a good friend, an easy friend-- the kind you could pick up with as if no time had passed since your last meeting. Edgar was grateful for that. He had a lot of friends, sure, but that didn’t mean he was close to all of them, or that he felt as comfortable with them as he did with Caradoc. Maybe it was something about his healer’s instincts, but he seemed a bit better at scaling Edgar’s walls than most people. Or maybe that was just because of how they met; Edgar had seen him in some of his more vulnerable moments, and that made it easier to be vulnerable in return. 

“Hey, a hot bath and a nap sounds pretty great,” Edgar returned with an equally teasing grin. “And I am an excellent cuddler.” His smile was only half in jest as he added, “What is the cure for a broken heart, though? Asking for a friend, of course.” He wasn’t about to actually talk about the humiliating emotional rollercoaster Hestia had just led him on; what good would that do? But food would help. Food and alcohol, to dull the senses if he couldn’t heal them. “I’ll try to be worthy of your company, then. You’re in luck; I’ve been saving up all my best jokes for just such an emergency occasion.”

He fell into step beside Caradoc like a familiar beat, already more uplifted than he had been moments ago. Maybe Caradoc did have some extra-magical healing powers. His brow creased at the murmured question, as he struggled to find the words to answer. “Just twice as many questions as we have answers, and no leads,” he finally replied. “Were you working, or were you there? Did you see anything?” They’d have to start officially interviewing witnesses later today, but food could come first. Food and a nap, if Edgar’s achingly tired feet were anything to go by.

Lily rolled her eyes, annoyed that he was calling her out. “Semantics,” she said, flipping her hair over the opposite shoulder. “I’m a reporter, don’t you know the truth is all about how I spin it?” she teased back. In truth, Lily hated reporters who constantly spun things and tried to change the truth. Still, she couldn’t resist the joke, confident that Edgar knew her well enough to know she always wrote her stories with integrity. 

“But people need to realize that having a mask on and denying what’s really going on is not just hurting themselves, but it’s hurting other people!” she said, frustrated. It wasn’t Edgar’s fault, but she couldn’t help but get defensive and frustrated when talking about people who willfully had their eyes shut to the reality around them. She smiled as Edgar continued. He certainly helped her put things in perspective. “Thanks,” she said softly, “I’m not trying to put on airs, I’m certainly not saying I’m a hero, but I do hope I can help make a difference,” she said determinedly. 

“I don’t have a list of everything,” she said, “I have several things that have been reported, but a comprehensive list would be extremely helpful,” she enthused. “Looks like you are good for something after all,” she teased, bumping his shoulder playfully. Lily was certain she could find a pattern if she had the comprehensive list. She might even be able to find a starting point to investigate if Edgar takes a while to get back to her with any specific leads. She raised an eyebrow at him. “How do you expect me to poke into things with the Wizengamot without making any waves?” she asked incredulously. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll do my best to not alert anyone to my investigation, but if people do get suspicious I’ll find a way to redirect them so it doesn’t come back to you,” she agreed, the wheels turning in her head as she thought through which contacts might be able to help her with his request. 

One of the things Edgar admired most about Lily was her passion for the truth. She was like a dog with a bone in her hunt for it, despite what anyone (including her editor) my say. It was also one of the things that most worried him. “Hey, just make sure you spin it to include some comments about how handsome the auror department is, okay? I have a reputation to uphold,” he replied with a grin.

His teasing smirk softened into something more genuine as he continued, “You are doing something to make a difference. We all fight in different ways. And we’re all needed.” They needed more than just a diverse skillset-- they needed diverse placement. The other side seemed to have their fingers in everything, and Edgar often worried that it would be such a behind-closed-doors coup that they wouldn’t even notice they had lost until it was all over.

“I’ll get you that list, then. Despite your brattiness,” he teased back. In truth, she was one of the kindest people he knew, with a heart as big as her brain. At her incredulous question, he simply shrugged. “I don’t know, you’re the one with all the talent; I’m just the lowly muscle,” he said, holding his hands up helplessly. But for all his joking, he had full faith in her ability to pull it off-- or stop at nothing trying. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “Anything you find will be helpful, even if it doesn’t seem like much.” Every little puzzle piece was making a clearer picture.

@edgarpuffbones

Mary laid in the steaming water with her eyes closed, head lolled over the back lip of the tub, and one foot rhythmically turned the hot knob on and off and she soaked away the way her body ached. The training she’d been holding with Alastor reminded her how out of shape she’d let her body become, and even her dancing skills couldn’t save her from the clumsiness that plagued her or the bruises that lined her hips and forearms. She was beat, but ironically, more sated than she’d felt in a while. She was finally doing something to help herself rather than hiding. That was something to be proud of. 

Her thoughts cut short as she heard something in the hall. Her foot stilled on the knob, heart registering the appropriate pace for shock. Mary knew that no one could come in unless they were supposed to be there, and yet that didn’t stop the initial panic she felt. Her eyes opened, focused on the open door that led to her bedroom, and when she heard someone open the door from the hall, she smiled, recognizing the footsteps and closing her eyes again. Her foot went back to turning the water on and off as she called, “It’s, like, three in the morning, Eddie,” she laughed a small sound. “You alright?”

But Mary wasn’t surprised, nor was she put off. She already felt better knowing she wasn’t alone, knowing he probably was staying until morning. “Or did you just miss me?” She sat up, eyes opening to look for him.

Her. For better or worse (mostly worse), it always came back to her. Edgar kept circling around this tree and inevitably crashing into it. How many more blows to the head could he withstand? Hestia blew back into his life with a bang, and she left it just as fiercely. Their recent fight had been one of their most brutal yet and Edgar felt like he was coming apart at the seams, heart shredded into so many pieces that he didn’t know how to pick them all up again.

So he went to the person who was best at picking up his broken pieces, or at least at soothing the rough edges. He made his way down the familiar halls; he felt more at home here than at his own flat, sometimes. Perhaps if he hadn’t been so drunk he would’ve knocked first, but they had always had an open-door policy with each other. With their hearts, too, which he was grateful for tonight. He followed the sounds of the bath, and when he stepped through the doorway, he smiled. It was a sad one, a little broken, but genuine nonetheless. He felt better just at seeing her. “Mary,” he breathed. And then her words sunk in through the haze of grief and anger and alcohol. “Shit. Is it really three? I’m so sorry, I just-- everything’s been so-- and I couldn’t sleep.” If anyone would understand the torture of staring at the ceiling when you were coming out of your skin with emotion, it was her.

“Is it okay if I stay?” he asked, more out of respect and politeness than anything else. He was already toeing off his shoes. She looked beautiful-- she always did; her skin radiant and glistening from the water. He padded across the room and knelt in front of the bath. “Do you think a massage would make up for my barging in?”

She let go of him with a laugh before shrugging. “Being honest with you? Frustrated. This hand is a real pain in the ass for trying to get things done. I’m making it though.” Nimona couldn’t complain about her injury. It wasn’t serious, and it’d only be a hindrance for another week or so. And hell, she’d saved a life because she’d burned her hand. Nimona could live with being a tad burned for a while if that was the case.

“I like to live on the edge, what can I say?” Nimona boasted playfully as she shrugged her shoulders. Golden hues scanned Edgar, as if almost not trusting him to own up to obtaining any injuries but nodded then. “I’m glad to hear that. Makes worrying about you a little easier.” She said with a soft smile which only grew softer as he asked her how she was mentally. “I think I would’ve been a lot worse off if Alastor wouldn’t have stumbled upon me during the fire. Kind of hard to feel real fear when he’s at your side.” She said with a faint hum. 

He’d been reassuring that they’d be fine and told her after that he’d always be there to have her back. “I’m okay though. Just a little worried that we may be seeing a few more not so nice things in the future.” Her voice was softer now as her brows knit together in thought. Nimona couldn’t pretend that the dark things of their world would just be content to stay in the shadows forever anymore.

Edgar couldn’t help looking over her hand with worried eyes as he settled in across from her. He was sure-- pretty sure-- she was taking care of it properly, but it was hard not to be concerned anyways. The haunting screams and panic from that day still echoed in his head, and he knew he had been more on edge of late than usual.

He wished he could ease her worry, just take it on as more of his own. But worry didn’t work that way, and he knew the gnawing itch it could etch into your bones. Still, he gave her a bigger smile in an attempt to ward it off, even if he didn’t fully feel the warmth. Her mention of Alastor got a raised eyebrow. “Stumbled upon you, huh? Are you sure he wasn’t looking out for you specially?” he teased gently. He didn’t exactly know what was going on with the two of them, but he knew that on the infrequent occasions that Alastor talked, it was often of Nimona.

Their world was certainly growing darker, and he hated to see the shadows that crossed her face because of it. He knew, logically, that he couldn’t protect everyone and keep them happy all the time, but damn it, he would give his all trying anyway. “There’s a lot of good, too, though,” he reminded her. “I saw that, even on that day. People helping each other, watching out for each other. We’re not totally lost yet,” he said with a lopsided smile. “And that’s why we’re gonna win.”

There was some he still hadn’t heard from.. since he was in St Mungos it was rather hard to stay updated on everyone else. Granted, he had snuck out of his bed and by passed security. He wasn’t exactly proud of it but he was good at it. He hated hospitals. The idea of staying in there.. it made him internally scream. Now he felt that this place.. his department he wondered if everyone at his work was internally screaming. It was constant noise now, constant moving parts and gossip. Now was the chance to maybe put some of that gossip to rest. If they could even find one small piece of evidence it could lead to another. He had to keep moving. He felt beyond restless the past few days. What happened was horrific maybe they could bring peace to at least some people. To answer some questions. He let out a deep sigh closing his department door and now standing in the cool hall. The air in his department was starting to feel suffocating. They either hired more people or the office was in a crowded frenzy.

He hadn’t expected his boss to send him out again. Partly due to the fact that he hadn’t seen much of his boss anymore. He always seemed to stow himself away and give his assignments to the same two people. Des of course always went out anyway. His boss wouldn’t know and he needed to for his cases. Now, this was different a small part of him confused wanted to ask why but he was too motivated to find some answers for that to linger in his mind much longer. Mark anything suspicious collect evidence, the usual. There was a building near by he was rather curious to see if it had been safe from the fire.

He smiled and nodded. It was good seeing Edgar outside of the hospital. “It’s about time our bosses realized that.” He signed grinning. Nodding he gestured ahead as it to say start walking, he gave the other a playful nudge. “I came out of my office and he just told me to go.” He signed shrugging furrowing his eyebrows. “I’m happy he did though. I was going a bit stir crazy. I imagine you have as well?” He signed asking.

Originally posted by patriciawalkerd

Edgar loved the chaos of his job. It was one of the reasons he had chosen to be an auror in the first place. He liked the energy, the adrenaline, and he was happiest when everyone was running around. The pace fueled him. And especially with everything going on lately, he needed to be at the top of his game. The war was here. Between the recent string of robberies, the mysterious deaths, and the fire, that much was obvious. Those in charge might still be lurking in the shadows, but they were making their presence felt, nonetheless. 

It was good to see Desmond smiling, especially with all the stress going on. “Yeah, it’s gonna be a good day,” Edgar replied. “I can feel it.” It would feel good to be out in the field as well; he never enjoyed desk days, even though he understood they were necessary. With a grin and a nod, he said, “See you there,” before disapparating. As he reappeared at one end of Hogsmeade’s main street, his smile faded. It was heartbreaking to see so many ruined buildings, charred wood and blackened soot everywhere. It was still an active crime scene, so there was no one on the street but him as he waited for Desmond, and it was more than a bit eerie.

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Amelia really had been lost in her own world of thoughts while she stood in line, going back and forth on what she wanted to get and what sounded good. It was why when she absently spoke to whoever was behind her, she didn’t really pay attention enough to look and see who it was first. So, when she heard her brother’s voice, she jumped slightly and then let out a laugh as she turned to face him.

“Ger! Don’t scare me like that,” She chuckled, “Also, if you revoke my Best Sibling Ever Card when you’re the one standing behind me like a creep, I’m revoking your Best Big Brother Card for that reason.” She grinned at him, clearly teasing of course. It was her own fault for being so lost in her thoughts, and really she could never take away the best big brother card anyway; she adored her older brother more than anything in the world.

“Vanilla latte, huh?” She asked then, “That sounds good. I want food too though, my boss shooed me out for a break. Probably because of how loud my stomach was growling.” She paused, and then added, “You’ve eaten today, right? Or do you have time to join me for something?”

Edgar’s grin widened as Amelia finally turned and recognized him, her laugh going straight to his heart. When he was little, he had wanted nothing more than to be a big brother. He had hoped for a little brother, but when he first held tiny, squirming Amelia in his arms-- with some help from their mom-- he knew this was the sibling he had been meant to have. 

He laughed at her teasing, although his smile softened as she used the nickname that only she was allowed to use. It had started when she was just learning to talk, and his full name had been too much of a mouthful for her-- and he had never had the heart to be much annoyed by it. “Maybe I’m just trying to test your reflexes and observational skills,” he teased, although it felt less like teasing than usual. They all had more reason to be vigilant lately. “Not great, by the way. Definitely need some work.”

He hadn’t eaten today, unless a piece of chocolate that had been sitting in his jacket pocket for a questionable amount of time counted. He had a feeling she would say it didn’t, so he didn’t mention it. “I always have time for you,” he said. And meant it. He would drop everything if she needed him. “I’ll join you for lunch, if only to get you to stop worrying about my nutrition. How’s your day been going? Must be pretty busy if the boss is shooing you out.” He tried not to sound worried, but in his defense, it was kind of his default. Especially when it came to her.

Caradoc was dead tired. Every step he took, his boots drug against the ground. It was more like shuffling, but he’d been on his feet for hours bouncing around from patient to patient. The fire had basically turned St. Mungo’s into a pit of hell. The stench of burnt flesh reeked and the incessant screaming made his own skin crawl. Luckily, there were few serious injuries that needed attending to. The weight of all the minor injuries though was enough to bury him. He couldn’t count the sheer amount of salves he had to remake and hand out to ensure that everyone was getting the medicine they needed.

It was liked he’d blinked and his shift had turned into a triple. Now, the sun was creeping out, and so was Caradoc. The fire had happened a full day ago, and he was just now exiting Mungo’s and entering the real world. All he wanted was his bed. Food, friends, and fun could all wait until the afternoon or until he could salvage enough energy to have a proper conversation without passing out in the middle of it. He wasn’t worried about those he cared about, knowing he would’ve either seen them in Mungo’s or heard through the grapevine if they’d been injured. Everyone was safe for now. Well, except for the person that was now in his path.  He caught their shadow crossing his own but didn’t bother to look up to check the identity.

“Unless you intend on dropping dead or in serious pain right there, I’m off duty.” Caradoc heaved out, cracking his neck and letting the vertebrae release the tension that had built there.

Edgar had just finished a before-work visit with Greta that had only been half as awkward as he had feared. Which was practically winning, if you squinted a little. He had been up most of the night with the other Aurors, helping to clean up and secure Hogsmeade. It felt like the smoke was still clinging to his nostrils, despite the bubble-head charm he had used. He had gotten only a couple of hours of sleep before heading back to the hospital to check on Greta and Desmond, needing to reassure himself with his own eyes that they were both okay, both still making his life immeasurably better.

He yawned as he made his way out the front door, nearly stumbling over his feet in sleepiness. He didn’t notice Caradoc until he was almost crashing into him, but when he did, he smiled. Caradoc was a good friend, a loyal friend, and Edgar would always be happy to see him. Even if Caradoc seemed a little less than happy to be seeing anybody right now.

“Sounds like the healer needs some healing,” he replied with a grin. “And don’t worry; my handsome face is just as unmarred as before; no treatment needed here.” He stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets as he gave Caradoc a long once-over, trying not to worry. Well, trying not to worry more than usual. “Can I get you coffee and a biscuit? Or should I just take you home and tuck you into bed?” he teased.

   The word they seemed to perk his ears, his gaze finally skirting up from the file he was otherwise entertaining his attention with to give Edgar a contemplative squint. “I am not entirely sure it is a they, this time at least– didn’t seem very organized. A few rouges, blowing off steam?” It was just one of many theories. Alastor was not quite ready to say it had been a direct attack, but he had not ruled that out either. He favored hearing Edgar’s thoughts on the matter. Getting another perspective. 

A barely audible gruff chuckle managed to part his lips. “Usually.” Alastor mused, though in the grand scheme of things he would argue it was the only thing that was inevitable. Dying. The young man had a fairly unnatural acceptance of such a fate. As if, perhaps, a coffin was just a bed he was waiting to fall into at the end of a long day. “Mm,” an idle hum of agreement settled in the air. Casting his gaze back down to the compilation in his lap. “You’d think. Seems worth a shot, at least.” 

“Do you think it was just pranksters who started something that got out of their control?” he asked genuinely. One of the things he enjoyed most about Alastor was being able to toss ideas back and forth, until hopefully one of them landed on the right one. “It definitely felt timed. The fact that it started during the fireworks wasn’t a coincidence.” The fireworks that kept going off had only added to the chaos, confusing people as the sound masked the nature of what was really going on.

“I’m gonna get it put on your tombstone ‘He Expected This’,” Edgar replied drolly. It wasn’t that Edgar didn’t expect to die someday, of course, but he didn’t quite see it lurking around every corner the way Alastor seemed to, as if it was a shadow he couldn’t escape. Edgar was warming to his idea, to actually doing something even if it was simple. “Right, exactly. Worth a shot. We can warn be to be more vigilant, to report suspicious activity, to not go out alone. We just have to make it look catchy, so people actually read it.” He took a thoughtful bite of his twizzler; that would probably be serving as lunch for today.

Her laugh was genuine at his conceited words. He wasn’t lying, though. It hadn’t taken Mary long to become smitten with him. Sunshine oozed out of Edgar Bones’ pores in a way that once matched the rays that came from her before life started taking bites from her. Over time he became the beacon that held her constant, a solid friendship at first, and then somewhere after shit hit the fan, those lines were blurred. Out came a relationship that wasn’t defined by labels of any sort. Raw need dictated their encounters, need that crossed into any and every territory, and she was reminded of that fact when he instinctively squeezed her, pushing away her anxiety without saying a word.

“If she hadn’t just smashed your heart, I would say something entirely too sappy that would directly oppose my earlier mentioned tirade about true love,” she responded in a huff, finally pulling away to look up at him. Her voice was tinged with a slight annoyance, but her eyes were soft, saddened for her friend. His refusal of running off for a romp behind the vendors made sense now. Hestia was a blinding light in Edgar’s eyes, and there was little to be done once the train got rolling other than wait for the derailment to happen again. “But lucky for you I’m too drunk to judge you right now. Maybe tomorrow.”

Unwinding her hands from his back, Mary reached up to cup his face. Her fingers made feather soft trails along his jaw, a sad smile spreading on her face. “Your heart is the best thing about you, you know? It’s so big and full of love that you can’t even figure out how to use it right.” Except for when he wasn’t overthinking it. Mary thought he loved her in the most exquisite way possible, unabashed and in his own style, but she had watched for too long as Edgar second guessed his heart to think any different. She leaned up on her toes, kissing the corner of his mouth, lingering for a moment before she pulled away, backing out of his arms while she tugged on his shirt so he came with her. “Take me home, Bones. I’m too drunk to dance and I don’t want to sleep alone.”

Even when he was at his messiest, Mary never seemed to mind. She was one of the only people who had ever seen him cry-- Amelia being the other one-- and he was grateful for how vulnerability could feel like strength when he was with her. She never judged, never made him feel silly or small; she was just there, solid and supportive and genuine. And sometimes delivering some very painful truths, but what were best friends for if not to whack you over the head with common sense sometimes?

Edgar rolled his eyes, even though her words held more truth than he wanted to admit. “She didn’t smash my heart, she just... stomped on it a little.” The drunken crying on Mary’s shoulder after the last time she had left said otherwise, but hopefully Mary would be kind enough not to bring that up. “But fine, you can give me your lecture tomorrow. My head’ll already be pounding by then from this hangover anyway,” he teased. Besides, it didn’t matter how many times he heard that she was no good for him; he would keep running into that pain over and over again for just a taste of sweetness.

Still, he was grateful that Mary hadn’t given up on him yet, even with all his stubbornness. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said softly. Which was kinda serious, even for them, but he was drunk, so who cared? “If I have any heart left to give, it’s because you’ve helped stitch up the tattered edges.” Laughing warmly at her request, he slid his hands down to meet hers, lacing their fingers together. “Alright, alright. But only if you let me be the little spoon this time.”

Catching up with Edgar was always refreshing. Not only did he understand the trials of being the older sibling, but he also always had a positive outlook. Nimona needed to steal a bit of his brightness for herself to get through the day. She had no doubts he’d be able to make her feel a little better about the future. When she caught sight of him waving, the red head beamed and made her way over.  “Hey, you.”

Nimona caught Edgar, giving him a quick hug before he could disappear back behind his side of the table now that her chair was pulled out. “Try sewing with one hand. The universe definitely hates me too.” She chuckled, squeezing him tighter before she let him go. Nimona dropped down into her seat and crossed her legs with a soft hum.

“I’m glad to see you in one piece though. I was worried about everyone after the whole fire ordeal.” She said softly, giving him another small smile. Nimona had realized just how many people she cared about in this city and just how precarious their safety was.

Edgar considered Nimona one of his better friends, and he was grateful for it-- and for her sense of humor. She was so good at bringing smiles to others’ faces that he sometimes wondered if she was paying enough attention to her own happiness. But then, he supposed he could be guilty of falling into the same trap. Still, he had always been better at preaching than taking his own advice.

He hugged her back, and then pushed her chair in for her as she sat down. “How are you feeling?” he asked, gaze dropping to her injury with concern. He been rather, well... single-minded on that day, and he felt some level of guilt at not helping more people get out. Alastor had been much better at that. As usual.

“Sewing with one hand? Come on now, that sounds like it would make some really special projects,” he teased. His smile softened into something a little more genuine as he added, “Yeah, I’m fine. Barely a scratch. What can I say, I’m unstoppable.” He grinned. “And how are you doing... you know, emotionally, or whatever? It was kind of a big thing that you went through.” It might have felt a little more like something he trained for to Edgar, but even he had been a bit shook up by the events.