2 T W O
Remus woke up sore and still exhausted. He could hear the cry of vendors and shopkeepers outside, the bustle of shoppers, which meant it was well into morning. He groaned as he sat up, wincing at every ache and pain that made itself known.
Last night hadn't been bad as such things went, but he was in no hurry to repeat the venture. At least the group of five lords and ladies had been so pleased they'd left him a full mark tip in addition to the two marks they paid to the house of his services. That was two marks in total for him— a year's worth of wages in one night.
Whoring didn't usually bring in money that good, but between the group service and the fact they were from out of town… Well, the main reason he'd become a whore was the money. If not for his father, he'd have been living a lot better than he did.
So two marks down, thirteen to go.
He finally climbed out of bed and walked stiffly across the room to the wash tub someone had been kind enough to leave. The water was warm, not hot, but he wasn't picky. Scrubbing away the mess left by his night, he rubbed a salve into the worst of his bruises and other sore spots. Pulling open the wardrobe, he pulled out the clothes he'd stowed there. He paused as he pulled on his jacket, took it off again, and looked at the worn elbow. Smiled when he saw someone had patched it for him. Looking again, he saw someone in the brothel had, in fact, cleaned a repaired all his clothes. Probably the cleaning staff, they'd always been kind to him when he'd worked there.
Somewhat cheered about the day ahead, uncharacteristically optimistic that this day couldn't be near as taxing as the day prior, he pulled his jacket back on, ran a comb through his wavy hair to attempt to manage their disarray, and tucked away the mark his clients had left him as he hastened down to the kitchen by way of the back stairs.
"Good Morning!" He greeted Bathilda, the house cook.
She didn't leave the pot she was stirring, but did look up briefly to smile at him. "There's food on the table for ye."
"You're the best." He sat at the nearest bench and quickly wolfed down the plate of bread with butter and honey, left over bits of cheese, even some slice of tart apple. Someone thunked a mug of ale down in front of him and then placed a small bar of chocolate into his pocket. Remus could practically feel his mouth salivating at the thought of indulging the delicacy he so rarely even saw, let alone taste. Andromeda was entirely aware of his fondness for the treat. He shot her an exaggerated look of adoration to convey his appreciation for the gesture.
"Morning handsome." Andromeda cooed, glancing over him, seeming amused by his unnaturally bright attitude this early in the morning. "You must have done a lot right because I rarely get personal thanks from that sort. They paid their balance without even a breath of hesitation." She slid his earnings across the table. He picked them up and tucked them away with his other mark. "You ever want steady work here again, you know it's yours. Coming back tonight?"
He nodded, wiping at his chin where the ale had spilled over in his haste to devour the contents greedily. "Yes, since you're so willing. I appreciate it, Andy. Truly."
She scoffed at him, moving to take the bench across from him, leaning forward on her elbows. Remus hesitated to take another sip of his drink when he recognized the mischievous glint in her expression. That was never good.
"So," she started, "I think I might know a way you could earn ten marks, either today or tomorrow, depending."
"I doubt I'm physically capable of something that would earn that much money in two days. I barely made it through all of last night." He rubbed at his inner thigh as if the mere thought of enduring something as rigorously straining so soon made the tender bits of his skin activate a new.
Laughing, Andy playfully smacked the back of his hand that lay on the table between them. "I think you're underestimating yourself, love. Lucky for you, though, I wasn't talking about sex when I had an idea. I was talking about the Tournament of Courts."
He blinked at her, the last bit of apple halfway to his mouth frozen mid stride. "Merlin, no. You must be joking. I want no part of that ridiculous charade."
"Think about it darling." She leaned forward conspiratorially, the mischievously glint in her eye only intensifying as Remus shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "You could get through the elimination round easy enough, which puts you in the second round. Everyone who makes it to the second round is given ten marks to cover living and expenses while they're competing and unable to work."
Remus opened his mouth, closed it again, then finally ate the bit of apple. "I think you're overestimating my skills, and the first bout of elimination round is a melee, which is as much luck as skill. I could get my head caved in and come away with nothing but more debts I can't cover."
She shrugged. "If you don't try, you'll never get the money in time, and word on the street is the High Reeve is out for blood and not feeling terribly inclined towards mercy. Even for his favorite little pup."
Remus didn't lift his eyes at her subtle accusation, or rather her inquiry, innocent as it was, most Low City working members of society were rather open with accepting different half-breeds, an array of creatures from every village from High City to the Low, but he preferred to keep people guessing. People were rarely suspicious or stuck around long enough to notice the truth, and the people who mattered already knew. His mother and Frank, to name a few. It wasn't that Andromeda minded one way or the other, she accepted every creature, be it Goblin, Faye, Fairy (Merlin curse the sodding lot of 'em)— It was one of the reasons her brothel was the most well revered on Honey Street. She was held in high regard for her professionalism and well respected by all. Though, they both agreed to never ask further into the others life more than strictly necessary, Remus cared for Andromeda as equally as he did Frank.
"I see." Remus said and swore softly before finishing off the last few bites of his meal. There went any hope of convincing Greyback to give him more time. Ugh, he was going to murder his blasted father three times over for forcing him to get involved in something as utterly stupid as the tournament. "Guess I'd better get to work, then."
Andy stood up with him, caught his arm. "Remus, I don't want you to come to a bad end, especially at the High Reeve's hand, because your father is a fool. Try the tournament; I still think you'd be fine. That's ten slick, and I'll see to it you've for the remaining balance. You can pay me back at easier length. I know you're good for it."
Good to repay three slick, but not thirteen. But Remus couldn't really resent her for that, given how quickly he lost money because of his father. "I'll do my best not to need that. Suppose I'd better give the sodding tournament a go." He groaned at the thought. "I think I'd rather just do group work for a week straight. I swear that would be less humiliating."
"Only you would think being a toy for honey nobles is less humiliating than trying to marry into a better life." Andy shook her head. "Get the money and get out. It won't cost you more than a day, two at the most."
"And my dignity." Remus grumbled beneath his breath, but knew she heard him by the light shove she gave his shoulder. "Right, well, thanks for your help, Andy." She turned her cheek for him to place a chaste kiss, then left out the back door, slipping through various rank-smelling alleyways until he came out on Raven's Row, where he could cut more easily up to the bridges, taking smaller roads that wouldn't be congested with visitors.
All the while, he tried to come up with some other means— any other means— that did not entail entering the stupid Tournament of Courts. Not that it really mattered in the end, because as Andy had said, it would only cost him an afternoon or two.
But it was the principle of the matter. The tournament was a bard's song, fool's good. Remus might not have every sense, but he had enough to avoid participating in a spectacle put on for the masses to abide by the letter of the law. Like every other time before, the nobles instructed by the House of Black had probably long ago selected and groomed suitable candidates. If the nobles hadn't already started cheating, they would soon, beginning with bribing tournament official to ensure their pre-selected candidates made it through the preliminaries, or to learn ahead of time what the challenges would be. If their candidates failed alway, there would also be bribes to fix that. Cheating wasn't hard, merely expensive.
He was going to be mocked relentlessly by everyone who knew him, but there was no help for it. His only other option for getting that kind of money that fast was providing cadavers to the strange Slytherin trio that was always happy to pay generously for bodies and ask no questions about where they came from. What they did with the bodies, nobody had ever been brave enough to ask— or perhaps, foolish enough to ask.
As enticing as the fifteen shillings one was promised for a single corpse, fifteen shilling that would allow him at least three weeks of being granted to breath easy until his father undoubtably spoiled the peace, was hardly worth the disgust Remus felt at the thought of what one needed to even do to obtain a body and discretely deliver it to the odd trio.
With a heavy sigh, Remus relented in abandoning his futile task of imaging an alternative option to the tournament. He would much rather do anything else, but he'd faced worse. He could endure the stupid tournament long enough to earn ten slick—
"Reeeeeeemus!"
He stoped and turned around as Frank came barreling at him, because Frank had somehow never learned to simply walk anywhere. He oofed when Frank slammed into him and hugged him tight. "Morning Frank."
"Where have you been? I waited at the pub for you to show! All night!"
Remus groaned. "I'm sorry, Frank. I've been busy cleaning up my father's latest Tour de Destruction of what's left of my sanity. Spent the whole night working at Andy's. I completely forgot about meeting you lot at the Rail."
Frank wrinkled his nose. "Your father again? Haven't you put him in the harbor or sold his body yet?"
"Everyone keeps suggesting that second one. I'm somewhat alarmed about the company I keep."
"Wouldn't be much of a hassle to bring the Slytherin sods a limb or two, if it's the murdering bit that makes you all squirmy." Frank offered with an air of indifference, making Remus smirk at his dark humor, though he only hummed in response, moving in sync through the crowds with Frank by his side. "So where you headed now? Got time for a pint?"
"Maybe later. I'm uh—" Remus wrinkled his face, then sighed. "I'm still ten slick short."
"For fuck's sake!" Frank exclaimed, earning serval glances from the offended people within hearing distance. Clearly, not locals, as such language was hardly worth the scrunch of a brow to anyone who wasn't fed with a silver spoon whilst still in nappies. "What in the name of Merlin's balls did he do this time?"
Heaving another sigh, Remus told him. By the end, poor Frank looked so stressed on his behalf, Remus would have bought him a drink if he hadn't needed to focus on what he was doing. "Come on, stand in line with me, so I don't go mad or panic and dash at the last moment."
Frank shrugged. "I've never known you to dash from anything, well, besides the Realm guards, respectively, but I've got nothing else to do until tonight. Got work at Ollivander's place."
"Since when are you the pain and torturous pleasure sort?"
"Pain, no, but what's a little silk rope here and there? Oh, hang on, I'm hungry. You want something?"
Remus shook his head, laughing softly. "I never refuse food, but since when do you have money? Steal that from the constable, along with his wife's affections?"
"That woman only loves herself and has no interest in loving anyone else— it's my favorite thing about her," Frank said cheerily, then darted over to a nearby street vendor to charmingly haggle for his lunch. He returned a few minutes later with steaming pies that smelled of chicken and gravy and vegetables. "As to the coin," he said, when Remus gave him suspicious look at the amount of food he had just bought with little concern to his coin, "The others, Meadows and McKinnon bet I'd end the night in the bonds and they'd have to come pay the bailiff to let me out in the mornin. But I stayed the whole night free as a purple spotted toad, and they all had to pay up."
Remus gave his head a playful nudge, choosing to ignore the absurdity to his sentence as there was absolutely no such thing as purple spotted toads. There were purple striped spiders and yellow spotted toads, but Frank would neither care to know this information or bother paying attention long enough to hear it once he knew Remus was correcting him.
"The constable is still going to have your sensitive bits for a coin purse when he finds you."
"Meh, nobody needs a coin purse that big." Frank leered cheekily before stuffing the last bits of his pie into his mouth, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand before adding, "Besides he's busy with all the out of town rabble, and by the time he returns his misgivings onto the local rabble, well, he'll be mad at the most recent stranger in his bed. He'll have forgotten all about me." A quick grin. "Again."
"No nightly tussle in the sheets is worth that much trouble, mate. No matter how nice the silk sheets feel on your limp bum."
Frank's brows rose with a look of indignation set on his youthful features, "My bum is not limp. It's narrow, yes, I'll concede to that, but it's firm nevertheless— and anyway, I haven't a complaint, yet, so."
Remus shook his head as they stepped on to the common bridge, threading carefully through the mass of those gathered to enroll for the tournament.
"Just be careful or you'll wind up in a noose."
"I will, I will." Frank replied easily.
Remus felt the brush of passer-byers and eyed the obvious placement of purses unwittingly on display for any half-skilled pick-pocketer to swipe. He would have loved a chance to lift a good few, but the congestion made it too dangerous. Easy pickings, but if they for caught, there was nowhere to run on.
When they were finally through, he resisted the urge to check his own coin. Nothing drew a thief's eye faster than being told precisely where the money was kept. "I think I've walked more in the past two days than I have in the past two weeks. What's a bloke got to do to be left to honest labor and a pint or two at the days end, hm?"
"Kill your father and sell his body—" Frank snickered when Remus clapped him upside the head.
"Stop talking about murder. It's ill-luck to do so often, and I've had about all the bad luck one can possibly handle— and if I'm going to successfully atone for my disastrous father then I'll need all the good luck I can find, " Remus scolded, then added with a mutter, "since Devine intervention is far from likely."
Frank grinned, straining to his tip toes as Remus was half a head taller, tossing a lazy arm over his shoulders. "Come now, Rem, you'll sort yourself just fine, mate. I've seen the way you sling around grain sacks and move those barrels down at the docks. You can clobber a few country idiots and take their flags without a sweat."
He was, of course, referring to the first round of the tournament, but Remus was hardly capable of putting much energy towards worrying over that endeavor at the moment. One dreadful thought at a time.
He eyed Frank wearily, "Been watching me at the docks, have you?"
Frank's bark of a laugh was as startling as it was comforting for Remus to hear. "Sure, sure. Can you blame me, you beautiful bastard? Who wouldn't sit back and enjoy the show?"
Remus rolled his eyes, shoving his friends arm from around his shoulders as they surged forward in their lull in the conversation. Growing up with one another allowed Remus to feel comfortable around Frank in a way he rarely was with anyone besides his own mother. It was one of the small rarities he cherished in his life. He wasn't sure what he would do if something ever happened to the idiot.
They reached the top of High City some time later, where the pavilion and the royal castle were located. The pavilion was teeming with people like fish in a barrel with most of the water sloshed out, and there was so much racket, Remus could barely hear his own thoughts. He wasn't one for dashing, it was true, but right then, he was ready to start a new habit.
"What do the signs say? I don't know the markings." Frank asked in a small voice that sounded as uncertain as it was rare coming from his friend, as it was difficult to make Frank feel insecure about anything. Remus had always admired that in him, but his inability to read, though it was something he shared with majority of Low City's occupants, always upset him. Remus has been lucky enough to work along side his mother at one of the local tutoring schools in the library. He would help sort the books all the while overhearing the lessons going on around him. That job had only lasted a little over nine months, but after Remus learned the basics his mother continued he'd to bring him home books here and there and test him on them after a long days work.
Remus squinted at the signs, but the signs were hard to read with the sun shinning in his eyes, and his vision not really the best at long distances. There were three signs lined up evenly across the pavilion, and only then did he notice the groups gathered actually had some sense to it: enormous, bulging, writhing lines. The signs had letters and circles of colors beneath: red, blue, green from left to right.
"Uh. The first one says 'ages of 17-20', the second 'ages of 20-25, and the last, 'ages of 26-40'." Remus winced, unable not to notice that the latter line wasn't even half as long as the other two, and the first one was half again as long as the second.
Not suprising, really. The horrid affair was a young person's folly. But it was humiliating all the same to see how glaringly out of place he was going to be.
"You may want to wait for me here."
"How is that better than just going with you? Come on. You're going to turn white if you keeping thinking instead of doing."
"That makes absolutely no sense," Remus grumbled, but allowed Frank to yank him along by his elbow.
They pushed and shoved and swore their way through the groups until they at last reached the back of the line.
"Oi, Remus!" A chorus of voices greeted congenially. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Marlene McKinnon, and Petter Pettigrew.
"Did you get dragged into this stupid bet, too?" Marlene inquired, shooting a narrowed, but light-humored scowl Frank's way.
"What bet? No, you know I don't gamble. It's bad fate for my family." Remus replied shortly, glancing around the crowds, slightly on edge despite the comfort of having familiar faces surrounding him.
"For a cynical git, you certainly are abnormally superstitious, mate." Peter teased, clapping a hand on Remus shoulder. The man, although about a head and a half shorter than Remus had surprising strength; Remus had seen Peter put men thrice his size down with a single blow. Not normally one to brawl, more prone to cowardliness, but when prompted, well, Remus was certainly glad he and Peter were friends through Frank.
"Right, well, what's this bet then?" Remus asked, forcing his face to remain void of the rising dread he felt for even being there.
"Some fellas at the Crow last night, the pub we visited after the Rail, said we wouldn't last five minutes in the first round." Kingsley explained smugly. "There's a pot. Whoever gets the most flags wins it."
"If you aren't in on the bet, whatcha doing here, then, Rem?" Marlene asked, she was similarly small in stature liked Peter, but quick and cunning as a silver fox. Kingsley on the other hand was as broad as Remus, only a few finger lengths shorter, with twice as much muscle.
Remus grinned. "What do you think Marls? Hiding from your wife."
The four of them laughed, and Marlene shoved at his shoulder. "As if Dorcas would give you the time of day. Curious as she may be about the rumors of your unparalleled expertise and reviews from you performances at Andromeda's, you are lacking the correct tools to satisfy her preferences, I would think." Marlene raised a thin brow at him, "Unless there's something you've been keeping from us."
"Nah," Frank chimed in for him, leaning on his shoulder with one hand and giving his stomach a quick pat with his other, "Our friend here is heavily endowed. I assure you."
"Gross." Peter grumbled with a hand dragging over his face. "We do not need to be informed of your stalkerish habits, Longbottom."
As Frank protested this accusation Kingsley replaced his friend by moving to his side. "Come on, Remus, it's not like you to care about this sort of thing. Did Frank dare you to sign up?"
"No, but I should have thought of that!" Frank said brightly from where he was now scrabbling with a very red faced Peter, and then yelped when Peter manger to jab him in the torso.
Remus sent a similar jab to his other side when he sought him for protection from Peter's continuous poking and prodding.
"I'm certain you lot could have guessed it, but I'm here as a result of my dearest fathers indiscretions."
They all grumbled and commiserated and offered to help beat him up, but Remus waved them all off. "What's the pot for the bet anyhow, so I know how many pints one of you will be buying me after we all are done with this mess?"
That got the group of them to fall into bits of laughter once more, and from there they are happy to catch Remus up on the gossip he'd missed the past several days while he'd been busy working at the docks and been too damned tired to do much more than fall into bed.
His evening with the pretty man he'd had to leave behind had been the first time he'd had honest night of fun in ages.
Remus scowled, drowning out his friends voices, unable to hear much of anything as the onslaught of images of that very pretty face demanded his full attention. His thoughts then turned to where exactly that pretty face, or more accurately his pretty lips had hovered for a good portion of their night, never straying from Remus' skin, and too often warm with desperation that practically cried out 'more, more, oh gods, more'.
"Name, age, address."
Remus' gaze focused to find that he was now at the front of the line. His face burned with embarrassment, though he knew no one was aware of where his mind had wandered. He didn't do this. He never pinned after anyone. What was his problem? Shaking himself back to attention he cleared his throat.
The clerk at the registration table, dressed in midnight blue and gold livery, the colors adorning the crest of the House of Black, hadn't yet peered up from where he was hunched over parchment, waiting for Remus' answer.
He opened his mouth to respond and then winced slightly, knowing he was expected to offer his full name. "Romtayen Remus Romulus Lupin."
He had only ever thought ill of his other's choices on two occasions: the first clearly being her choice in a husband and the second, her choice of absolutely ridiculous and humiliating name for him.
The clerks head snapped up, seemed to freeze momentarily before recovering and once more just looking bored at tired. "Occupation?"
"Free laborer."
"Labor—" the clerk broke off with a clearing of his throat, his cheeks burning red, and hastily ducked his head to jot it down.
Ah, now Remus understood. The man must have been a previous client at Andy's. "Yes. Laborer. Is that a problem?"
"No. No." The clerk replied, barley audible. He glanced up. "I just—"
"What?" Remus deadpanned with a crossing of his arms over his chest, already impatient with the entire experience and he hadn't even been enrolled properly. Keeping his voice devoid of any heightened emotion or care at all he added, "Are the noblest of nobles not interested in the likes of a slag? Of a whore? Funnily enough they hardly seemed bothered with my occupation when its convenient for them, but when it's a possibility to wed someone like me, well, that's simply unthinkable. Is that it?"
"Yes— or no, rather— No. No. Of course not." The clerks mouth pinched. "I only meant— I was just expecting you to say something else, that's all."
Remus scoffed, but it the matter drop. The sooner this conversation was over the sooner he could be on his way. "Any other questions?"
"Are you trained in any martial arts?"
"Only the six months everyone does."
"Can you read and write?"
"Rules on the fancy charts say that isn't relevant." Remus wasn't sure whey he was being so impossible. Stubborn, his mothers voice scolded him inside his mind. He silenced it and focused on keeping his glare steady on the ever flustered clerk.
"It's not a qualification; it's just general information."
"Rule is law last I checked, and law says it's irrelevant, so I'm not saying."
The clerks grip on his quill tightened in annoyance as he chose his words particularly slow for someone who was meant to be threading through the enrollment process with vigor.
"If you do not say, you do not compete. It's not required, but we do need to know in order to adjust the challenges accordingly."
Remus bit back a curse of exasperation. "Fine. Yes. Yes, I can read and write."
The clerk hastily noted as much. "Any illness, injuries, or other possible impediments that should be account for in your challenges?"
"Does a bite count as an illness?"
The clerks face drained almost immediately of all color and Remus didn't miss the tremor in the man's hand as he swallowed a nervous breath. The frustration and annoyance had clearly shifted into something between repulsion and fear. Remus could practically smell it radiating form the man, causing him to clench his fists tightly to keep him from smacking the prejudice clear from the man's mind.
"No. The bite doesn't not register as an illness for the tournament."
"Ah— Just in your mind, then. Glad that's sorted. Can I go now?"
The man's eyes flickered to the packet of parchment that was meant to Remus to take, laying near the man's arm on the table. Seeing the hesitation and repulsion of having to actually hand Remus something in the man's expression, Remus rolled his eyes and swiped the packet and began reading over it's contents.
"Just sign the bottom."
Remus did as he was told without a fuss and then eyed the small wooden chip painted in midnight blue and marked with what seemed to be the head of some sort of creature in white. The clerk had laid it before him on the table and nudged it forward, once again avoiding the absolutely indecency of possibly tainting himself by the brush of Remus fingers— as if he hadn't done much more when he was paying for it, no questions asked. Hatred and fury boiled inside him at the thought of such privilege.
"You're in the second melee. Show up this afternoon at half past the second hour in the courtyard surrounding the amphitheater. Gather under the blue tent. Someone will explain the rules and distribute the flags. If you fail to show, you will be disqualified immediately. You can't compete without that chip, so be sure to kept on your person."
Nodding once, Remus tucked the chip away and made his escape.
"I need a bloody drink," he said when he and Frank were finally away from the pavilion.
"I'm happy to buy you two, even," Frank said, and they made their way back to Low City where the ale was both delicious and affordable.
Somehow, two ales wound up closer to five. Possibly six? But it was a few hours where Remus could pretend that his life wasn't wholly dependent on surviving the first round of a melee and several duels.
When the midday bells tolled, however, there was no longer any avoiding his fate. He drained the dregs of his latest ale, threw down a farthing to help cover any stray costs, and clapped Frank on the back. "I'm off to get my arse pounded." At the smirk Frank shot him, Remus added with a frown, "And not in the pleasant way. I'll see you lot later, yea?"
Outside the high city walls was the amphitheater, built back during the first Wars, repurposed for the tournament and every other day of the year, used for old military practice grounds that had been abandoned long ago in favor of new yards and quarters within the walls. The courtyard surrounding it was tucked in a little hollow formed by the city walls, the cliff that backed the city, and the river that cut it in half. The grounds had burned down two and a half times since they were first built, mostly due to drunken carelessness combined with too many overexcited idiots that enjoyed smuggling in illegal creatures like fire-breathing dragons.
Remus was just approaching the outskirts of the courtyard, observing the expanse of his competitors with equal amounts of dread and slight temperament still lingering from the looks the clerk had given him at hearing of his occupation and unfortunate life circumstances. What was he meant to do, apologize for having been born to a father who would willingly allow their only son to be bitten by a creature just to settle a debt?
"Well, hello again lovely."
Remus stopped and looked around, brows lifting in surprise as his gaze settled upon the pretty man he fucked the other night and had been forced to abandon in the morning thanks to Greyback-- the man who also happened to be the very reoccurring thought he seemed unable to keep from knocking him off balance at the most inconvenient of times. High City brats weren't normally worth the trouble unless he was getting paid, but this one… Damn, what was his name? He'd been worth the trouble.
"Hello yourself, High City."
The brilliant grin that spilt over the man's flawlessly chiseled features knocked him slightly breathless and he suddenly understood his subconscious desire to remind him of such beauty at every turn. It was certainly a rarity that Remus should take advantage of savoring while he could.
As the man strode nearer Remus allowed his gaze to study the intricacies of said beauty at length, without any effort into hiding his obvious appraisal. Remus was certain the man was used to such attention. One must when their physical appearance was beyond any sort of rational fairness to those around them. He was a few fingers shorter than Remus, which was not unusual, and lacked Remus' mass. Where Remus obtained layers of toned muscles from years of heaving barrels at the docks, it was abundantly clear that the lean, thinner form of the man was one of High City, where physical exertion came from commanding those around them to lift things for them.
"Off to watch the first round?" He shoved his long black braid over his shoulder leaning forward slightly as a sly smiled tugged on his lips. "From what I gathered of your opinions on the tournament, I'd have bet ten crowns you wouldn't be anywhere near the grounds today. Though, I can't say I'm disappointed."
"That's a fortune you'd lose, as I'm to be in the damned melee, now." Remus replied.
The man's playful smirk faltered for a moment, eyes widening briefly. "Oh?" He cleared his throat, seeming to shake himself from whatever initial reaction had been prompted, to be replaced with earnest curiosity. "How did that come about?"
"It's related to that matter that took me from bed the other morning."
"I see." His brow furrowed. Remus eyes darted to where the man gently tucked his bottom lip behind his perfect front tooth and remained there for a moment longer than necessary before a shy smile tugged on his mouth and the man added, "No, I, um, rather don't. What does this have to do with that?"
Remus shook his head. "It's a boring tale, I assure you. Suppose you're here to spectate though." He cocked his head to the side, eyeing the man thoughtfully. "Come to see what your marriage prospects are going to be, perhaps?"
The man shrugged, "Perhaps."
"How very spoiled of you to go about breaking the rules just to satisfy curiosity. "
"Wouldn't you? Anyway, I'm hardly doing any harm this early on," the man replied, the easy grin returning. "Though speaking of things I shouldn't do, I have shamefully forgotten your name, and as lovely as 'the attentive lover with a clever tongue and wit to match' sounds in my head, it is rather a mouthful."
Remus laughed, dropping his gaze, suddenly uncomfortable with the earnest gleam in the other man's eyes.
"Well I don't recall yours either, so we'll call it even. My whole name is even more of a mouthful than your generous description and not worth knowing, but most just call me Remus."
"Hm, I doubt anything about you isn't worth knowing, though I won't push the matter. My name's Orion. Ori, for short."
"Well met, Ori."
"Well met, Remus." Ori's smiled softened, taking on flirtatious tones. "Since I'm already two for two with doing things I shouldn't be, I would be foolish not to attempt a third."
"Only natural." Remus confirmed with a twitch of a sly smile threatening to consume his face.
"Hm," Ori's striking grey eyes darted to Remus lips before taking a step forward. "What are you doing after the melee?"
"Recovering." Remus replied. "If I'm even standing at the end of it, I'll be impressed."
Ori sighed. "Fair enough, I suppose. What team are you to be on, then?"
"Team?"
"You received a token, did you not?"
"Oh." Remus dug out the chip he'd shoved into his coin purse, regarding the white outline of— something. "A cat, whatever that means."
Ori snickered. "Cat." He repeated loftily as if the word itself was said by a child who mixed up their words. "That's supposed to be a lion's head."
"A lion." Remus repeated unsurely, eyeing the coin closely, still unable to recognize the creature, and if it weren't for the whiskers he wouldn't guess a cat at all. "And what exactly is this creature?"
Seeming overly amused with Remus' lack of knowledge on the subject, Ori leaned closer so that their was less than a breath between them as he peered over his shoulder down at the coin.
"A cat bigger than a man, that hunts… mm, deer and such, in grasslands far, far away from here."
Remus' tilted his head to the side to regard Ori's profile with an unimpressed expression. "So it is the head of c doubleat."
"Well, yes, but like calling wolf a dog."
Despite the playful grin on Orion's face as he spoke, Remus still bristled at the mention of wolves, shifting away slightly to face him instead of being distracted by his too close presence.
"Whatever," he replied with a shrug. So he didn't know what a lion was; who cared? Did he need to make a list of all the things he was sure he knew that the High City brat didn't.
Ori's smile collapsed. "I'm sorry— I didn't—"
"Forget it," Remus snapped, grateful that the crowds seemed to be beginning to enter the arena. "I should be off to find my blue tent or some such. If I'm not dead or unconscious afterward, you're welcome to buy me a pint or two."
Smile returning, Ori said, "Smells like you've had plenty of those prior to your arrival."
"Who in their right mind would do this sober?" Remus muttered. Especially given how damned sore he was from a long day of walking, followed by a night of being tossed about by horny nobles, followed by more walking— Merlin, he just wanted to rest.
"I certainly wouldn't." Ori said. Before Remus knew what had stopped him from moving onward, he was being pulled into Ori by the wrist. Lifting Remus' hand, he pressed something into it, then bent and pressed a light kiss to the corner of Remus' mouth. "A token and a kiss for luck. My the gods see your victory."
Then he was gone before Remus could form a reply. Frowning, he opened his hand and stared at the object: a small wooden charm, the type meant to be affixed to clothes or made into an earring or pendant, bought from temples for three a farthing. Prayer charms, meant to imbue the bearer with various and sundry blessings and keep the temples in fund. Ori had given him a charm of fortune.
Why had Ori been carrying such a silly thing? He couldn't have known he'd run into Remus, and even if he had, why buy such a thing for some Low City fuck? He must have bought them for something else and given Remus one, perhaps out of guilt or pity?
Shoving it into his coin purse, clutching his token, Remus headed for the bright blue tent at the far end of the grounds, attempting to silence his lingering thoughts of Ori with more important, pressing matters: making it through the first round of the tournament.
