Chapter Two: Give Sorrow Words
The tavern was small, but neat. Fairly well-kept, though Artorius could see it was fading around the edges. And at the bar… The half-bald man sat with his back to the door, shoulders slumped. Artorius's heart ached – only in the throes of despair would an Auror sit with his back to the door. The years had not been kind to his cousin – he'd already started balding back when Artorius first met him, but the balding was much worse now, leaving his cousin with a horseshoe ring of graying brown hair around a bald dome.
Striding across the room, Artorius gave silent thanks that the bar was a bit over half-full. It made it much easier for him to slide onto the bar stool right next to his cousin. He lifted a hand and the bartender came over. "A strawberry lemonade, please," Artorius said.
The bartender nodded and his cousin looked up from the full shot of whiskey in front of him. His face was carefully smooth, but the single lifted brow gave away his curiosity.
Artorius smiled. "My daughter insists strawberry lemonade is the remedy to all the world's ills," he confided.
The second eyebrow joined the first, but his cousin's expression remained bland. Unconcerned.
Artorius waited for the bartender to return with the strawberry lemonade and ordered a second one. Both the bartender and his cousin blinked at the request, but the bartender gamely retreated again.
Without hesitation, Artorius pushed the strawberry lemonade in front of the other man, strategically placing it between his cousin and the whiskey. "Perhaps you might like to try?"
And oh, there was the suspicious glare of an Auror aware he was being played. Inwardly, Artorius rejoiced – bent and battered, but his cousin hadn't broken. Not yet.
"No?" Artorius inquired. "You don't seem to be interested in the whiskey." A lie – his cousin was very interested in the whiskey or else he wouldn't keep ordering it, but hard-won sobriety was battling hard against the temptation. Time to give that sobriety a helping hand.
His cousin's glare grew more heated, but he'd seen the bartender deliver the lemonade and there hadn't been any opportunity for Artorius to slip anything untoward in the drink. So, grudgingly, he accepted the straw Artorius held out, unwrapped it, and dunked it in the strawberry lemonade to take a cautious sip.
The bartender arrived with the second strawberry lemonade and Artorius gratefully accepted it. He unwrapped his straw and used it to stir the lemonade, watching the strawberries swirl around in the ice.
"Not bad," his cousin remarked after a few minutes, though suspicion lingered in his tone. "You always go around in bars, ordering drinks for perfect strangers?"
"No," Artorius replied, stirring his drink a bit more vigorously before he took a sip of the lemonade. "My cousin is going through a rough time and it's been hard to find a good way to support him."
His cousin frowned. "So you took a break from that to chat up random strangers?"
"Something like that," Artorius agreed, swallowing down his amusement with his next sip of lemonade. Sobering, he said, "This time of year is always difficult for my family."
"Your daughter doesn't enjoy Halloween?" his cousin asked.
"Oh, both my children do, but this is the time of year when my wife and I remember our parents," Artorius explained.
His cousin reared back a bit on his bar stool, the bland expression falling into sorrowful sympathy. "Sorry to hear that."
"Yes," Artorius murmured, a keen knifing through his heart. "And with the struggles my cousin is going through…" He trailed off, inwardly pleased by his cousin's unconscious nod. "Well, this is a pleasant change of pace." He sipped at his strawberry lemonade. "May I ask what brings you to a bar to stare at a glass of whiskey?"
His cousin snorted and covered that by taking another drink of his own lemonade. "Trouble at work."
And oh, what a severe understatement that was. Artorius merely nodded pleasantly, then donned an expression of chagrin. "Oh, my, I do apologize. Arthur Calvin," he said, holding out a hand.
The other man accepted the handshake, shaking his head in bemusement. "I think that apology will have to be both ways. Greg Parker."
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," Artorius said.
His cousin – Greg – studied him a moment. "Where you from?"
"Derbyshire, in England," Artorius replied. "My family and I are visiting here."
"To help out your cousin?" Greg asked, sipping at the strawberry lemonade. "How's that going?"
Artorius covered his smirk with a sigh. "Challenging, of course – it is a rather difficult, delicate situation – but family is always worth it."
Greg nodded slowly, fingering the condensation on the side of his glass. "Hope it works out for your cousin."
"I think it will," Artorius said, carefully maneuvering a strawberry to the top of the glass to nibble at it. "The important thing is to remind my cousin that he is not alone." He turned his head to the side, meeting Greg's gaze squarely.
"That does help," Greg agreed in a low tone, expression turning wistful. "Your cousin is lucky to have you."
Artorius was just opening his mouth again when a female voice rang out. "There you are."
He turned, making sure to salute his lovely wife and their two children with his glass of lemonade. Alanna sped across the tavern, oblivious to the snickers from the other patrons. "Daddy!"
Setting down the lemonade, Artorius bent over and hefted his daughter up on his lap. "Hello, my angel."
"Daddy, can I have one? Please?"
Artorius chuckled and turned so Alanna could reach the strawberry lemonade. "You may have the strawberries," he said, reaching over her head to fish them out of the glass. "But anything more will have to wait until dinner."
As his daughter focused on the strawberries, squealing in delight, Artorius settled her onto one leg and turned enough to see Victoria and Lance clearly. "As ever, you have excellent timing, my dear."
Victoria smiled, her gaze shifting to Greg. "I hope my husband hasn't been bothering you, sir."
Greg smiled back at her. "Not at all, ma'am. He's introduced me to your daughter's favorite drink. I might have to add it to my list, too."
Victoria laughed. "Oh, she'll be delighted, once she's finished the strawberries." Glancing at Artorius, she asked, "Do you think your cousin will be joining us at dinner, dear?"
Artorius made a show of frowning and stroking his chin. "I'm not sure," he replied. "He seems to be quite preoccupied at present." Turning to Greg, he asked, "Would you like to join us?"
Greg shifted uneasily on his bar stool. "I wouldn't want to intrude on a family dinner."
"Nonsense," Victoria cried. "We would be delighted to have you."
And oh, yes, suspicion was joining the uneasy expression, right along with a subtle tightening of Greg's jaw and a slight narrowing of his eyes. He hadn't yet figured out how he was being played, but he knew it was happening. For a long moment, Artorius held his breath, but, finally, Greg shrugged and pulled out his wallet. Laying two twenties on the bar, he pushed the bar stool back and stood up.
Hiding his own smug triumph, Artorius dug out his own wallet – carefully aged with a spell to keep from looking brand-new – and laid out a single twenty. Alanna reached for it and he stopped her, shaking his head before he swung her over his knee and back down to the floor. Victoria grabbed their daughter's hand to keep her from wandering off and she pouted for a few seconds.
Greg smiled, ever so slightly, at the little girl, though grief crossed his face when he looked at Lance. The boy looked up, beaming as only a child could. "Hi there, Sir!"
"Hello there," Greg replied, crouching down. "Who might you be?"
Lance grinned, showing off a baby-toothed gapped smile. "I'm Lance and I'm seven!"
"Seven, huh," Greg said. "Sounds like you're getting to be an old hand."
Alanna giggled and Lance shook his head shyly. "What about you, Sir?"
"My name's Greg and I don't tell people my age anymore," Greg replied, then leaned in and whispered loudly, "They can tell I'm old enough to buy alcohol and that's all I care about."
Both children giggled and Victoria shook her head in exasperation. "Well, shall we?" she asked, her eyes finding Artorius's.
He nodded back, gesturing for Lance and Alanna to stay close to their mother. "I have the address of the restaurant," he informed Greg. "Assuming you prefer to drive separately."
"You have a rental car?" Greg asked.
"No," Victoria replied. "We aren't in Toronto long enough for one."
As they were leaving, a tall man stalked into the bar and nearly walked right into their group. He stumbled to a halt, then blinked at them. "Greg?"
"Ed," Greg sighed, rubbing his forehead. "What are you doing here?"
"What do you think I'm doing here?" Ed shot back, scowling.
Greg returned the scowl with interest. "Well," he said in a clipped tone, "Someone beat you to the punch."
"Oh, yeah?" Eddie demanded, eyes blazing with suspicion as they landed on Artorius. Ah. Perhaps he should have expected something of the sort.
"Ed." Greg's tone turned angry. Harsh and unyielding. "Go home."
The bald man bristled, glare snapping from Artorius to Greg.
"I'm fine, go home."
The glare burned into Greg a few seconds longer, then Ed turned on his heel and stalked out of the tavern. Artorius said nothing, though he hoped, most fervently, that his cousin hadn't just alienated a friend of his.