#robert1

Thursday, January 11 Wizarding London

On Thursday evening, Crispin Rappaport found himself sitting at a wizarding bar in southern London. It was nice enough, he supposed, and the drinks were cheap, which was all he could really appreciate. He tapped his fingers on the table as he waited for his brother, phone in his pocket. He pulled it out as he waited, sending a quick text to Evelyn as he asked how her night was going.

He hadn’t minded not seeing her tonight, for seeing her hadn’t really been an option. Thursdays were nights he was never free, and he hadn’t been for years. It had been happening for so long that Crispin rarely thought of it as a date – it was more a tradition than anything. He’d apparated across oceans on Thursdays, had cut meetings short, had left greenhouses unplanted. Because Thursday nights, without fail, were nights for the Rappaport brothers to get together and drink.

Though his jeans were clean and his flannel shirt was free of wrinkles, there still remained dirt under his fingernails. Crispin grinned. Better to keep Robbie on his toes, he thought to himself as he leaned back at the table, taking a long pull on the lager he’d ordered. He liked riling his brother, more than he’d like to admit. His smile grew as he saw the familiar face approaching.

“For a moment there, I thought you’d stood me up.”