a mouthful of whisky.

❝If only that were the case, the solution that simple.❞

❝Too many people file into those clubs, the music’s too loud and… awful. Plus, when do I ever have the time?❞

He’d have to settle for this minor victory, he knew that much. But as he moved from foot to foot for a moment, he ducked his head. “Because it was the same day I asked you to the Yule Ball and you told me you don’t do balls.” Grinning, he clicked his tongue. “And you’ve been bruising my ego ever since.” Turning, he headed for the tent and opened the curtain before looking over his shoulder. “You know, come to think of it, it was also the day we spent hanging out by the lake and you told me you had the biggest crush on that singer… Merlin if I remember which one. Another bruise to my ego. A man asks you to a dance and you talk about another wizard. Absolutely abysmal to sit there and endure. You’re lucky I’m not easily dissuaded.”

Heading inside, he looked at all the drawings around. It took real guts to put your work up for the world to judge, and then some to have someone want it on their body forever. Like your art could carry on for a lifetime. But Sturgis, sturgis loved the idea of a story being permanently etched into someone’s history. This would be a story with Emmeline. 

There wasn't much to say that hadn't already been said on that subject. ❝They're not my cup of tea. The wardrobe, the people.❞ The performative nature Emmeline always felt compelled to portray every time she was in a situation like that. She shook her head as he clicked his tongue, a small smile of her own taking shape. ❝Someone had to bring you back down to reality every time that ego of yours started to balloon.❞ Her eyes narrowed slightly as she gave him a pointed look. ❝I seem to recall saying I could see the appeal, how some would find him nice to look at. The word crush, I do believe, would be your own feelings. Please, tell me more about how abysmal it was.❞ Smile fully formed, Emmeline simply shrugged. ❝I'm sure things would have been much easier for you in life, were you easily dissuaded.❞

As he moved through the tent, she stayed close enough to continue a conversation, though her eyes wandered carefully from piece to piece. Some bright and bold, others delicate and intricate, each one beautiful in its own way. But none of them seemed to speak to her like they did Sturgis. She supposed that was part of the allure, though. Items that, for some, would spark conversation. While she wasn't quite sold on the idea, she supposed that it may be something to one day consider. Not that Emmeline would let him know he'd made her reconsider. ❝Found anything that's caught your eye, yet?❞

❝No.❞

But not because she valued work over Alice. Emmeline didn’t think she valued anything over Alice, really. She would want to, if it came down to it, but she knew better than to think Alice would ever allow for something like that to happen. She could already see the look on Alice’s face, hear the hypothetical scolding she’d get for even considering saying yes. It was hard acknowledge from the start that no was the easier answer, the safer answer, but it was the right one in the end.

❝No?❞ 

A question, not an answer. Emmeline hadn’t given thought to dating since fifth year, choosing friends and studies to focus on instead. While she’d never devoted too much time to relationships, dating, romance in general, she’d not ruled it out entirely. 

If things were different. If people didn’t have more important things to worry about. If her friends, the people she valued most, weren’t constantly walking on eggshells in fear. If she didn’t have to worry about  But that was a lot of ‘ifs’; their world was in chaos, and she was more concerned than ever. 

❝Yes?❞ 

Still not an answer. The truth was, she wasn’t sure. Was there a time and place for dating? Absolutely. Was this that time or that place? Merlin knew. That wasn’t to say she wouldn’t be open to it if it were the right person, but she figured she’d cross that bridge when – if – she arrived at it.

As she grabbed his hand, he stopped and looked down, grinning a little before he squeezed her hand and took her other one. “Vancey, if there’s anyone I want to make a mark on my skin… It’s you.” He gave her a look of absolute adoration before a playful smile found his features. “Come on. It’s honestly not that big of a deal…. I think you genuinely underestimate how much I love tattoos. Do you remember the first note you ever tried to write in runes to me?” He asked, lifting his shirt a little. The scribble was on his right side, just along his ribs. Looking back to her, he canted his head. “I get ridiculous things all the time. Happy memories.”

Moving so another side of him was exposed, Sturgis showed her the galleon that was constantly flipping heads or tails. “Ludo bet me ten galleons I wouldn’t get this. It was an amazing night. I think we celebrated the last playoffs for about two days with all the money he won, the sly dog.” The sheer memory brought another chuckle from him. “I know it’s silly. Lord, everything I do is a little silly in it’s own right, but it’s the one thing I do that’s neither black nor white. It’s a beautiful shade of gray.”

❝Merlin, you've really gone and lost it, haven't you?❞ She offered a small smile alongside a slight shake of her head. Bending slightly to get a better view, Emmeline pulled a face, examining the runes a bit closer. ❝Why would you ever get that as an addition? Who in their right mind gets 'you're an idiot' in runes scrawled across their rib?❞ She stands up straight again, taking another sip from her cup. It was intriguing, she had to admit, the lengths he was willing to go to. Most people simply settled for photographs and stories told with friends over drinks. But, he'd always been one to take things to another level, she supposed.

Ah, yes. The playoffs were always a surefire way to have people celebrating. It never really mattered who won, because there would always be an uproar. Emmeline pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head once more. ❝Ludo would bet on anything, so you're sure to always win there.❞ As he continued his spiel, gave his little chuckle, she felt her resolve finally give way entirely. ❝Fine. You win. I will go into this ill-advised tent and potentially help you decide on something. But that's it - I'm not getting one of my own.❞

A ridiculous question, in her mind. Not once had she ever met someone who had claimed to have eaten too many sugar quills. It was an impossibility, as far as she was concerned. ❝No.❞