#thread: james

His smile flickers into something a little strained before he manages to smooth his expression out again, and he casts his gaze about the flat helplessly trying to think of something to say. He's not... he's not good at the nurturing thing. Henry can at least pretend, but he's fucked off for the week to Barcelona, and abandoned James here to. To conduct himself normally. Not that he can even manage that anymore.

Beto had waved Essie off, shaking his head at the offer at another drink, retaking his seat at his booth. He was about to go back to working on a project when he noted someone staring at the final pig sculpture he'd made. "Oh hey! Last I have, they've been really popular," he greeted cheerfully.

@amanandgoodatit continued from here

James frowns at the tense body language, the pain evident in Greg’s movements and posture.

“Sorry, I should’ve reminded you not to move your head.” He pulls his pen light from his breast pocket and purses his lips into a concerned line, shining the light over Greg’s pupils.

“In my opinion—and it’s a pretty good one—you at least escaped without a concussion…” He goes back to his medical bag. “I’ll make a wrap to stop the bleeding, keep the wound clean… And we should bring you in for a CT scan, check if there’s something going on that I can’t see. I doubt there is,” he hurried, “But…better be safe, with head injuries.”

Not all alchemists liked sharing their knowledge. The one that James had come across was one of those greedy sorts. He was also on a list, for using human lives in his work. A list that had been given to Oliver, a hero who traveled the various worlds and realities that were connected through magical doorways.

A single shot rang out

The bullet ripped through the alchemists' brain, causing is head to jerk before he fell to the ground.

Normally Oliver would use is sword, Calibur. But given the subject of alchemy, he figured it best to keep the magical blade out of things.

He let his arm drop, and holstered the gun before kneeling down before James.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry that I used you for a distraction. Maybe I can buy you dinner to make it up to you?"

The old alchemist had lured James in with promises of knowledge and like little red riding hood fell for the wolf's disguise, the alchemist apprentice fell for their fake kindness and generosity. He should've stayed with his uncle, no matter how unkind and strict he was, he was a good teacher and he certainly never tried to make him an ingredient.

James was still stammering apologies when his assailant dropped to the ground and it took him a full second to fully grasp what just had happened.

"A distraction?!," he piped up, "No, I'm not okay. The old geezer tried to turn me into mince. I was about to become pie filling. Or worse a sausage roll. God, I hate sausage rolls." When in doubt: Ramble. Apparently James' motto.

“I’ve come to learn, that the older I become- or maybe the more sober I am. The less I can handle these kind of rides.” Toby commented, looking a little pale after having just exited a ride that had send both him and James upside down and in the air. “I guess you don’t have that problem given this is all pretty normal movement for you in quidditch, right?”