His shoulders drop but he nods, letting out a breath. It's true, but it's
embarrassing.
"Seems like most of what I can do for you is ask the Admiral for stuff. I
tried asking Quentin about the magic stuff but it ain't the same, and
anyway I still can't do magic. And I get bein' angry, but when I get
angry I just hurt my knuckles. It ain't the same."
And he really, really wants to help him. Not for any kind of a deal, but
because he likes him, and he feels responsible.
"I can talk to you just fine," he replies, frowning. "But you say
that smashing shit makes you feel better, plus you're afraid of hurting
other people, so it ain't got anything to do with me getting you.
You think I don't know how to talk to you?"
He might have a point, actually: he's been twisting himself in knots trying
to figure out whether it matters, and he's mostly come out on the side of
it does.
"It's just...we don't need to talk about magic. Ever. My first warden
didn't have magic so we just didn't talk about it. He taught me to play
Mario Kart."
"...I dunno what that is, but okay," he says, blinking fast against-- what,
exactly, he doesn't know. "Maybe that's why I wanted to take you boxing.
'Cause that's what I do at home, too. I work, I go boxing, I watch hockey."
Luckily his work is exciting to compensate for his empty social life.
He throws him a smile, feeling some kind of anticipation, some kind of hope. He puts the bag back where it belongs and puts his stuff away while Credence unwraps his knuckles.
It's the work of a few minutes to go back to his room, wrap up a bit
warmer, feed his pets and receive a few reassuring beak-scritches from his
phoenix. Then back upstairs to meet Ray.
Ray does the same, going to his room and getting a nice woolen coat, a hat,
gloves, and then makes his way over to the Enclosure.
"Hey," he says, like they didn't see each other five minutes ago, and then
goes over to the control panel. He's thought about this on his way here,
but he goes with the classic: the 1960-61 Stanley Cup, Chicago Blackhawks
vs Detroit Red Wings. He knows how it ends, but it's a classic, Bobby
Hull, Stan Mikita, plus he knows that the dry spell of Cup wins hasn't been
broken yet.
He's excited for it, clearly, and he grins as th door swings open.
Credence blinks at the blast of cold as they step into the stands. Neither
of them know that the Barge can't muster real people: the players on the
ice are in the right uniforms, but the faces, the hair colours, are
distinctly different.
"The old Olympia Stadium in Detroit" he says, as they step in. He's looking
at the crowd, but the Barge has done its job well: the players, warming up
on the ice, aren't the people he knows from pictures and stories.
"Nah, not really. But the puck can come atcha with a hundred miles per
hour, you don't want that flying at your face. Guys can get into fights
sometimes but that's down on the rink, not in the stand."
He rubs his hands together, warming them as his cheeks go red with cold.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2019-02-12 02:49 pm (UTC)His shoulders drop but he nods, letting out a breath. It's true, but it's embarrassing.
"Seems like most of what I can do for you is ask the Admiral for stuff. I tried asking Quentin about the magic stuff but it ain't the same, and anyway I still can't do magic. And I get bein' angry, but when I get angry I just hurt my knuckles. It ain't the same."
And he really, really wants to help him. Not for any kind of a deal, but because he likes him, and he feels responsible.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-12 03:05 pm (UTC)Credence squints at him.
"You know I'm not...just a wizard, don't you?"
no subject
Date: 2019-02-12 03:08 pm (UTC)"I know, but the anger thing, the reason things break, that's tied in to your magic, right?"
He's practically squirming, glad the gym is practically empty.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-12 03:20 pm (UTC)"I was angry before I started deliberately using the Obscurus to do anything about it," he points out, quietly.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-12 03:22 pm (UTC)"Alright, so? You do now, right?"
Ray is under no illusion that he can help with the source of his anger.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-12 03:27 pm (UTC)"Yes. I do. But..."
He tries to figure out a No-Maj way to explain this.
"if I was an angry person with a gun, would you need to understand guns to talk to me?"
no subject
Date: 2019-02-12 03:55 pm (UTC)"I can talk to you just fine," he replies, frowning. "But you say that smashing shit makes you feel better, plus you're afraid of hurting other people, so it ain't got anything to do with me getting you. You think I don't know how to talk to you?"
He might have a point, actually: he's been twisting himself in knots trying to figure out whether it matters, and he's mostly come out on the side of it does.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-12 04:02 pm (UTC)Credence gives him a look that borders on helpless.
"Do...you think you do?"
no subject
Date: 2019-02-12 04:12 pm (UTC)He starts to say something, then bites his tongue, straightens up and frowns.
"I guess not. If you say I don't, I guess I don't."
He definitely didn't expect that to hurt.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-12 04:21 pm (UTC)"It's just...we don't need to talk about magic. Ever. My first warden didn't have magic so we just didn't talk about it. He taught me to play Mario Kart."
no subject
Date: 2019-02-12 04:25 pm (UTC)"...I dunno what that is, but okay," he says, blinking fast against-- what, exactly, he doesn't know. "Maybe that's why I wanted to take you boxing. 'Cause that's what I do at home, too. I work, I go boxing, I watch hockey."
Luckily his work is exciting to compensate for his empty social life.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-12 04:28 pm (UTC)"I've never seen hockey," Credence says quietly.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-12 04:32 pm (UTC)"We don't get cable here," he says, thinking it over. "I got... I got some old tapes, I think. From when I couldn't watch the game because of work."
no subject
Date: 2019-02-12 04:39 pm (UTC)"The library has discs," he says. "Of....everything. So, probably hockey. And the Enclosure might do it."
no subject
Date: 2019-02-12 04:48 pm (UTC)"The Enclosure could make a game, you think? That's better. That's way better-- you don't mind some cold, right?"
no subject
Date: 2019-02-12 04:52 pm (UTC)"I grew up in New York," he points out, without sarcasm. "I don't mind the cold. And I think we could ask."
no subject
Date: 2019-02-12 05:02 pm (UTC)"You, um-- you wanna go put on a coat, check it out now?"
He feels strangely soft about this all. Like Credence is taking care of him.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-12 05:03 pm (UTC)Credence nods.
"Alright."
Although he's going to go about unwrapping his knuckles first. They do feel a little tender, surprisingly, somehow.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-12 07:43 pm (UTC)"Meet you by the Enclosure?"
no subject
Date: 2019-02-13 09:50 am (UTC)"Yes."
It's the work of a few minutes to go back to his room, wrap up a bit warmer, feed his pets and receive a few reassuring beak-scritches from his phoenix. Then back upstairs to meet Ray.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-13 11:05 am (UTC)Ray does the same, going to his room and getting a nice woolen coat, a hat, gloves, and then makes his way over to the Enclosure.
"Hey," he says, like they didn't see each other five minutes ago, and then goes over to the control panel. He's thought about this on his way here, but he goes with the classic: the 1960-61 Stanley Cup, Chicago Blackhawks vs Detroit Red Wings. He knows how it ends, but it's a classic, Bobby Hull, Stan Mikita, plus he knows that the dry spell of Cup wins hasn't been broken yet.
He's excited for it, clearly, and he grins as th door swings open.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-13 01:14 pm (UTC)Credence blinks at the blast of cold as they step into the stands. Neither of them know that the Barge can't muster real people: the players on the ice are in the right uniforms, but the faces, the hair colours, are distinctly different.
"Where is this?"
no subject
Date: 2019-02-13 04:29 pm (UTC)"The old Olympia Stadium in Detroit" he says, as they step in. He's looking at the crowd, but the Barge has done its job well: the players, warming up on the ice, aren't the people he knows from pictures and stories.
"It got torn down in the eighties."
no subject
Date: 2019-02-13 04:35 pm (UTC)Credence finds some conveniently placed empty seats near the transparent panelling that surrounds the rink, and sits down.
"Is this...dangerous?"
He doesn't know many sports that are physically separated from their spectators.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-13 04:50 pm (UTC)"Nah, not really. But the puck can come atcha with a hundred miles per hour, you don't want that flying at your face. Guys can get into fights sometimes but that's down on the rink, not in the stand."
He rubs his hands together, warming them as his cheeks go red with cold.
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