made of he(art)

“Ichabod is rather close in cruelness, I must say.”

“Oh dear, I hope you didn’t get your arse kicked at school. But I digress. I'm going to say… Hm, Batholomew, Thaddeus, Immanuel or bust. Because I’m going to be honest, Frank: there was way more stealth napping than actual Bible study for this girl at Sunday service, so I’m fresh out of options, I’m afraid.”

“I meant more absolutely ridiculous and concerningly insane, but sure.”

“On second thought, no swing.”

“Think that’s what all boring old codgers say, mate.”

“Well there’s no need to stick your hand in when your nain will do it for you,” Alice chuckled, offering Hestia her arm. “Shall we?”

“One of the many reasons you'd be a grand nan, pal. Sneak those eventual grandkids sweets while their parents aren’t looking.” Hestia snaked her arm through Alice’s with a quiet laugh, “Let’s go, Ms. Alice.”

“Murder would be preferable to that, trust me.”

“Yikes!”

“A quaint cafe by the water that offers fresh and flavorful food? Girl, that kind of place is right up my alley. I am a sucker for the seaside. Bath is nice and all, the hot springs are great, but sometimes you just want to enjoy the ambiance of the beach. We should go sometime, yeah? We are two hard-working ladies and we deserve a break every now and then.” Not that either of them had jobs where they were given ample time off. Training was gearing up for Dorcas and there was always going to be someone that needed healing for Hestia. 

"It’s a date! They’ve got some really cool beaches down there, and you’re spot on about that, for sure. There’s something just really magical about eating ice-cream on a sunny summer day on the beach that you just don’t get elsewhere. Especially after all the years in ol’ freezing Hogwarts. Maybe we can consider it next time you have a weekend off?”

Peter pulled the lever, held his breath, and let it out in a dejected stream as he won nothing. “Alright, maybe machines aren’t the place tonight. Fancy a go at the blackjack tables? They’ll have free drinks,” he said, trying to sweeten the deal. Gambling in company always felt better than going it alone. 

Hestia glanced at her wrist, pretending to check a watch she didn’t wear. “You know what, you’re absolutely on! But three turns tries, max, and if we don’t win a knut, you’re buying the pizza. Deal?”

“Were you always like this in school?”

“Super cute and absolutely hilarious? Oh yeah.”

“I’ll just go one more round,” Peter waved the words off and placed his hand on the slot machine’s lever. “Might as well bring it down to an even number, right? ‘Sides, I’m due for a hit.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works, but eh. What’s the worst that could happen? Go for it.”

“You’re being far too kind, and I’m afraid my parents were rather cruel.”

“Well, in that case, hm... Jacob? Judas? Silas? Raphael? Ichabod?”

Violet thought to her parents and what their livers would be like by now. She dreaded to think. Not that it was her problem anymore; she hadn’t spoken to them in months. Once upon a time she had been their babysitter, helping to mop them up when they should have been mopping up her, and dropping out of school at sixteen because someone had to make sure they could pay rent each month. She smiled grimly. “I’m hoping it won’t come to that and if we get murdered as I suspect we could, it won’t.”

“Oh. —well, something to look forward to, at least.”

“Naps are dangerous, you just bloody agreed with me.”

“Did I really? I can’t seem to recall.”

“I’m not sure I like what you’re implying, Hestia,” Alice joked through a narrowed gaze. “I had every intention of sharing, but now that I know you’re the sort to engage in bribery, I’m not sure if you deserve to be shared with at all.”

“You know what, I hear you and I understand completely. Spoken like a true stodgy old nan catching her grandkids with their hand stuck in the biscuit tin. And you know I do love a good biscuit.”

“Incredibly Catholic middle name. Would you like to take a guess?”

“Yes. I’m going to go with a... Francis Alexander? David?”

“Those are fighting words, Jones. I resent that immensely.”

“Brave words for somebody who gets taken down by naps.”

“Not Catholic enough,” Frank mused. “It’s Francis.”

“You’re definitely a mutant hippogryff, so you’ve answered your own question already.”

“Says the grumpy hinkypunk.”