The picnic blanket was a spare sheet she’d grabbed from the hall cupboard. On any day in London it might have been too wet, too cold, too windy to keep on the ground without ruining, but the summer had favored them. Laney, though prone to getting into trouble in the shadowy parts of Diagon as often as not, took brilliantly to the sun. As her skin grew steadily more olive, her smile grew, her tummy rumbling with laughter so often that it was painful. She rolled to her side, propping up on an elbow, and quelled it with another bite of a (dog-friendly) bacon sandwich, and tried not to choke as she laughed at the prospect of Frank with a gang-style back tattoo. She’d recently brought a friend along to Dietrich and now her brain was working far too stealthily to do anyone any good. Proposing the most outlandish ones first seemed a good way to talk him into getting a very small, hidden one.

Really, though, she liked him quite clean. And scruffy. Clean and scruffy...

A sip of butterbeer later (she was behaving), she laid down again, fringe sweeping over her brow, thick hair all about the sheet as she leaned into the crook of his arm. Her hair had been growing out for a while now, and despite the direwolf issue, it was much longer than Frank’s.

“You would be much sexier with a dementor on your back....” She lied. Dark cat-eye sunglasses made it near impossible for anyone but Frank to see where was looking. He didn’t have the same edgy style of Gigi or the ex-con finesse of Cináed. But she fancied him, the shy writer in his leather jacket, with baby curls and a maddeningly boyish smile. Even, tough as she thought she was Laney wasn’t immune.

“What do you want to do today?” She asked, calming down, stretching out. Her midriff was bare between her shirt and jean shorts, and though she was small and toned from quidditch, she had a bit of a tummy she didn’t mind in the least. She couldn’t be bothered. She would drink a muggle frat boy under the table. Drinking and tables had certainly been a hot topic for Laney, who had ended up with bruises and a bruised ego after running her mouth at that silly dragon tamer and her journo friend-- Frank’s friend.

Her fingers reached over him, finding the book he’d been reading, snagging it away from him. “I know this great broom bar in the basement of an asylum... Well, next door to an abandoned asylum. Or we could go to a museum.” She wasn’t be sarcastic, only playful. She wasn't totally opposed to studying art, and history, and artifact, though she found herself pretty clever already.

Lazy days were coming to an end, but that didn’t mean he was going to give in so easily. Rolling his eyes underneath the shade of sunglasses, Frank sighed and moved his head over his forearm propped under it, staring downwards towards Laney. His opinion of a ‘gang-style’ tattoo was a bit older-generation minded. Un-inked and (relatively) unscratched.

His free arm was the perfect Laney-shape. Head tilted to keep from being tickled by her hair, blowing softly at it and smirking. Was it weird that he found her more irresistable when she smelled of bacon? No, it probably was weird. His gaze lifted from her chest to her face, eyebrow raising in response to her idea, the peak of it visible over the edge of the sunglasses.

“And you’d look hot with a beard.” The image that popped in his head forced a sudden and unexpected laugh to erupt out of him, his stomach shaking slightly from the force of it. Sleeves were rolled up to allow his skin to soak up all the Vitamin D it could--even through the numerous clouds blocking his view.

His arm that curled around her moved inwards, fingertips raking the side of her stomach teasingly while eyes continued to take her in. His words mumbled out against her hair, “Something inappropriate.” For a park, anyway. Frank had just dragged his gaze back to the book at hand (or the one hovering slightly over his stomach) before Laney snatched it out of the air. A feeble groan of disagreement slipped out of his mouth before he frowned a little.

Like an older adult silently berating a child.

“Hm.” An asylum in the middle of the day didn’t sound like the best idea, though it did sound better than going at night. At the word museum, however, eyebrows rose once again, this time with a healthy dose of interest. His arm around her pulled her against him, thumb hooking into her shorts and lightly but firmly tugging down. “There is a quidditch museum we could check out. Or the Natural History one.”

His lips found hers, briefly, while rolling towards her, sitting up after to grab another sandwich. He had all ready had two--he wasn’t sure where the sudden appetite had come from. With bacon-sandwich in hand, Frank rested back, taking a hearty bite out of it and shrugging. “What shoundsh good to -ou?”

Laney opened her mouth and lifted her chin and brows at the same moment-- appearing to imagine, protest, and concede at the same moment. Frank’s laugh shook against her; she grinned. “I’ll get right on that,” she promised. “But only if I don’t have to shave as often as you do...” Her hand moved up to his face, poking his cheek where scruff often covered his face. She doubted anyone had to shave that often.

Inappropriate? Count her in.

She continued to smile. It was more obvious now. She didn’t stop the hand on her tummy, even as her own retracted from his face. Instead she lay perfectly still, as if it were the easiest thing in the world to behave. Holding the book over her head on the side that Frank wasn't laying against, she paid it little mind for the moment. The groan was exactly one of the reasons she had taken it. Frank knew how to feed her attention even when he didn’t mean to.

She glanced at his face, waiting for a more elaborate explanation of inappropriate. Instead he seemed to be considering her question more seriously. Now that wouldn’t do. Natural History... of what? Hogwarts? Muggle Natural History, she thought he meant. She curled closer to him as he kissed her, to the fingers that hooked in her shorts over the new magpie tattoo. She parted her lips and brought her own hand-- with the book-- to the space between them, and another hovered toward his shoulder on the ground.

As he sat up, Laney turned over easily onto her stomach and sat up opposite him. She didn’t care what they did, as long as he knew what they were doing afterward. She wouldn’t mind a drink, of course, but she was pretty sure Frank might balk if she took him to the bar where she’d had a fight with one of his old... coworkers... She wrinkled her nose, thinking about it. He’d had to sober her up afterward, and she still suspicious of his relationship with the journalist. Mostly of the journalist.

“Can we be inappropriate in the Natural History museum?” She asked, her sunglasses reflecting his own. She waited until he swallowed before she moved closer, book in hand. She pushed him down easily, climbing over him as if were a stool, knees spread lazily on either side. She asked, now looking down, “Isn't that what natural history means?” She voiced the question leeringly enough, and with a cheeky touch of aren’t I smart, Mr. Book Hunter?

She brought the book up, finally, opening it to the page he had marked. “Does your boss know about this?” She asked by way of what are you reading? It might have been hardly scandalous, a work assignment even. A novel for enjoyment, perhaps. Laney waited for answers, scouring the content, looking mildly interested indeed.

“That’s too easy.” That was not a good bet to make; the odds were she would never have to shave two or more times a day. And if she did... then there was more wrong than right in the world. They were just playing around anyway. Frank really didn’t fancy a permanent piece of art he might regret the moment after, and he was sure Laney didn’t fancy a beard. Her cheekbones wouldn’t handle it well.

He paused in his bite at the question. A blink that she wouldn’t notice was his initial response before he rolled his eyes and shook his head, chewing on the delicious sandwich. “Not unless you feel like becoming an exhibit.” His smirk started to fall away as she suddenly got closer. Frank allowed her to push him around, careful of the sandwich (no need to lose unnecessary bacon), before glancing down what he could see of her.

“Isn’t that what natural history means?”

Licking his lips, Frank glanced around them, on the look out for impressionables who might be watching. Luckily for Laney, there weren’t any that he could see. Ruffling of pages brought his attention back. “I read for a living. That one is not required, though.” Focused on her face, he was going to allow her to stay there for now. The moment he heard laughter... she would be finding her space next to him yet again.

“It’s a history book about sea voyaging.” It seemed counter-intuative to explain that it was written by muggles for muggles. The different technology advances (compasses and rudders and the like) might not matter to someone who could wave a magic wand for an answer. He was mostly fascinated with the different viewpoints from the time period of 'when the Earth was flat', and had been skipping about the chapters.

Lifting the sandwich back up, he took another bite, tilting his head and smiling up towards her. “So the museum then?” Eyebrows waggled out from behind the sunglasses. 

Still grinning, she shrugged. “I guess we’ll never know.”

Though muggles still perplexed her (and often pissed her off), Laney found the museum a much more tempting experience than growing her own beard. Though she was not about to give up convincing Frank that she thought he ought to get a tattoo-- lying to him about something like this was too much fun.

“If they think they’re going to stick me in a glass case...” Well, the poor unsuspecting muggles had never met a Laney Irving before. Or maybe they would try to hunt her. Didn’t they stuff animals in those things? Not that Laney had never seen a stuffed beast; wizarding museums were full of dragon bones and taxidermic unicorns. She’d always been most interested in the quidditch exhibits and the relic wands, but the old creatures were interesting, too. And the wizarding ones tended to move, which made for a more-easily occupied museum goer.

He didn’t answer her. Her eyes flickered to him before returning to his book. Still, there was something in his expression...

Frank cared a little too much about public indecency. Laney did not care at all.

“It must be very interesting, then.” She bit her lip, raised a brown, and zeroed in on a paragraph. Sea voyaging... Right, interesting. She turned another page and scanned that one. “What do they mean by falling off the edge of the world?” She made a breathy noise that suggested muggles were universally clueless.

He didn’t need to ask twice. But he sort of did. Laney considered the proposition carefully, but nonchalantly. She closed the book, snapping it agains the air, and shoved it to the side. She smiled, close-lipped, down at Frank. “Depends... Are you going to be navigating?” She asked, expression pleasantly interrogating.

They could get one of those maps, of course, but Frank would have to deal with the muggle money for the tickets... unless they skipped the queue. Muggle money was so small, and the paper bits were just ridiculous. But skipping... Laney could be in charge of that part.

When she finally climbed off of him, she too grabbed another bit of food, tearing a sandwich in half and putting the rest away. She knew no one was close enough to spot a little bit of subtle magic, and so, with a flick of her wand, their basket began to repack itself.

When everything was done and properly shrunk and stored, she swung her bag over her shoulder and leaned into Frank again, this time while walking. The museum was near enough, and it only took them about ten minutes as a leisurely pace.

The image in his head of sticking Laney in a glass case made him laugh. Loudly. And unexpectedly. “With breathing holes in it, I’m sure.” If they got her into it without her wand, then who was the fool?

Perhaps it was Frank for thinking he could have Laney tag along to any museum. She could be the loudest (and tallest) toddler around. While it’s acceptable for a true two year old to misbehave and kick and scream, a grown adult doing the same... would garnish some disapproving looks.

Especially in a museum.

A half-hearted shrug escaped him at the mention of the book. It was interesting enough. Smirking at her question, he rested his head back onto his hand. “Nearly everyone, once upon a time, thought the earth was flat. The worry was that you would sail into the sunset and right off of the edge of the world. There were some people who knew better... but they weren’t well liked for their views.”

In all honesty, Frank could continue to give history lessons to Laney all afternoon. It was something he knew well (and some would say he knew too much of it). So he condensed it and shut up about it. It was something he’d learned to do early on.

Eyebrow rose at her question. “That would mean you’re the Captain.” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that... She definitely had a big enough head for the both of them sometimes.

Once she got up, Frank was quick to follow, brushing himself off with one hand before taking a bite of his sandwich with the other. With the food gone (his full mouth having been unable to reprimand Laney as she twirled her wand around), he frowned and swallowed. “You should be a bit more careful.”

Still...

He put his arm around her shoulders, stepping forward with her. Once at the museum, he opened the door for her. Frank ground out his cigarette, having just finished explaining the bit of science behind a compass that he knew.

Once inside, his voice dropped dramatically, whispering softly into her ear after paying for their way in. “Over here, it starts off with the cavemen.”

His laugh earned a fiery, russet glint of Laney's eyes, a moment of mistrust which flickered away and became, perhaps, a humorous promise. "Their glass couldn't stop a witch." It hadn't stopped Harry Potter, if excerpts from a derivative biography touted over the Wireless had any accuracy. Something about a snake... She bit her lip, grinning. "Maybe a wizard, though."

"They sound like virgins with broomsticks." Didn't muggles have 'plains', not to be confused with the flat sort of plain-- the kind they thought the world was made up of, apparently-- which they could use to fly over the latter and determine that there was life outside of the sheep farm? "So the ones who didn't agree with them..." She urged with nonchalant interest, cocking her head at him. She might as well ask her bookish, history buff bed buddy if they were going to do the museum thing properly. It wasn't like real school-- Laney could only earn points here.

Captain. Laney, no stranger to other people's kinks, could get behind that. It involved two of her favorite things. A well-earned title which doubled as her undoubted future in quidditch, and...

“You should be a bit more careful.”

"That's what you're here for." The careful bit. (And maybe the other thing, too.) "The captain's always right," she added, with a decided overconfidence.

The walk was pleasant in its un-eventfulness, and Laney was surprised to note noted that even the queue was not so different from the kind in Diagon Alley... much less insufferable than the one at the 'cinema.' (If she had enjoyed other aspects of that experience, she didn't need the more modest of the pair of them to know it-- he probably already did.)

She stepped into the cool entrance hall of the museum with a new suspicion in her mind's eyes, now that she knew the difference between a wizard's Point Me spell and a muggle compass. They probably had some terrible 'science' for making all of their public spaces so damn freezing, too. But Frank was endearing-- a word Laney never thought she would use, and which made her feel kind of old in a bad way, like-- and she was curious about these famed glass cases and what made them so great.

"I dated a caveman once." By her definition of 'date,' anyway. She poke him easily in the side, smirking toward his whispering warmth, and redoubled her hold on him. "He wasn't as hairy as you." She leaned into him with a go on in her stance. "Wolfman," she added in a whisper of her own.

Before she could thoroughly scrutinize the cavemen in all of their unmoving glory, her eyes landed on a the cadaver of a dragon in the next room. Laney had thought muggles so dense that they didn't 'believe' in dragons-- they were always heavily mentioned in correlation to the Statue of Secrecy. But this one had no wings, and did not move in the same way the skeletons in wizarding museums or the suits of armor at Hogwarts moved. "Are they serious with that?" She pointed. It was then she saw the sign-- dinosaur. If those had existed, wouldn't the logical next step be dragons? Or was it too much of a leap-- like flat plains to round globe? Muggles and their backwardness.

“Humanity doesn’t do well with change. You offer a different perspective and usually you are ostracized.” Whether that was by killing them or imprisoning them or exile... It left one to wonder who got to choose the specific treatment.

Frank pursed his lips and studied Laney with squinting eyes. He was there to reprimand her? Or to keep her in line? And how could he do that without confiscating her wand... A roll of the eyes accompanied her new found title. The things he should keep his mouth shut about! Boosting her overinflated ego was not the best course of action; silly navigator.

“I dated a caveman once.”

“Why does that not surprise me.” It was said under his breath with a glance away, frowning as he considered how many guys Laney seemed to have under her belt. It felt like a lot more compared to the women that he had under his. Smiling softly at the poke, he glanced back at her and pulled her in against him. “I wasn’t always this hairy.” At least if a muggle overheard the nickname, they wouldn’t think she was serious.

They would just think she was being cute and making fun of the ridiculous amount of hair he had all over him.

“Are they serious with that?’

Blinking away from the caveman exhibit, Frank looked over Laney, down to her neck, before finally glancing past her towards the dinosaur area. Raising an eyebrow, he turned with her towards them, not sure where she was going with her question. “With... what?” He wasn’t as versed with this sort of history as he could have been. It was not as interesting to him, beyond the fact that somehow, if evolution was the way to go, humans had descended from crazy creatures like these.

“Dinosaurs? They’ve been extinct for millions of years.” Pointing to the large model in the room with his free hand, he smirked. “T-Rex. Look at his little arms, but oh my, what big teeth he has.” His lips pressed against her ear as he spoke softly to her, kissing it before pulling back and looking around.

He had a point. It was why the Statute of Secrecy existed: (muggle) people couldn't handle the truth. Ostracized was one word for what they had done during their historical witch hunts. Luckily, and quite literally, the witches and wizards had had the last laugh. But when it came to world maps and debating whether Earth was flat, Laney found it particularly strange.  Again, they were lucky... Or Frank was lucky that Laney was there to be in charge of their travels (from the park to the museum, and into it's... Cavernous recesses.)
 
She watched him look away at her confession and knitted her brows a little. A frown appeared on her already puffy lips.  “I'm kidding,” she clarified. Mostly. There might have been one and... Now two. Her mouth eased at Frank's joke... Even if it was a little self-conscious from where the Seeker watched. She allowed herself to be pulled in, and grinned, dimple and all. “You're not as hairy as Jack is-- was.”
 
Ever the soothing sort.
 
Laney knew what dinosaurs were, but she thought it was lackluster, if not a sham. It looked too much like a dragon without the fun bits. And now that Frank had pointed it out, those arms were ludicrous. He definitely needed a dragon to help him out. This one would have been a goner on the quidditch pitch. It was little wonder dinosaurs were extinct. But dragons for one’s sensitive muggle eyes? Not on the muggle government’s watch. Lying to the public. Even if she didn't want to sound like a muggle proclaiming the world was flat (she could never, who was she kidding?), she did have a thing or two to say about their coverup story. “Where's his friend the Hungarian Horntail?” They weren't extinct. “They might as well show both. Isn't that more openminded?” She brushed her fingers over the annoyingly sensitive, easily warmed bit of skin he had just kissed. She loved being kissed there. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to argue, push his buttons. Her fingers grazed her choppy, fringed hair, which currently brushed her shoulders; it had picked up currents of honey from too much time spent on the field, in the sky, and lazing in parks. She glanced out sharply, judiciously from beneath it and wondered how Frank spent so much time in muggle territory. Laney had been curious, in a superior, mischievous way. Frank's interest was sincere, intellectual. It might end in disaster. Knowing that did not stop her treading into that territory.

Her eyes moved slowly sideways, lips parted. Her face had a lazy, sardonic quality, almost an eye-roll, but slightly more amused. “Your teeth are sexier.”

She circled the thing carefully, dragging Frank with her. Its stillness was highly suspicious until she got used to it-- which was easy enough, because it was so still. Finally she stopped, lacing her arms around Frank’s neck and shoulder, linking her hands to trap him there in her loose, lanky arms, and and leaning into him. “They have no idea how easily someone could just...” Steal it.

Sometimes it was hard to tell when Laney was kidding and being serious. Sarcasm flipped both ways for her. At times, it reminded him of how irritating his sister could be. They were about the same age, after all. His free hand rubbed his eyes as if that would rid him of that thought. “No? That seems impossible.” Now he was half listening to her.

“Where’s his friend the Hungarian Horntail?”

Frank glanced around them quickly before frowning at her, fingers tapping lightly against her side in warning. If she took it as anything else, that wasn’t his fault. “The Horntail was probably a lot different back in those days. No doubt they have evolved themselves into what they are today.” He wasn’t the biggest dragon history buff, but it made sense. Hell, there weren’t Hungarians back then anyway! Or Chinese. “Honestly, Laney...” Moving them to a placard, he tapped it lightly. “Over 65 million years ago, as a matter of fact. That’s a long time ago.” Smirking, he looked at her and raised an eyebrow. In case she couldn’t figure out that wasn’t just yesterday.

“And that’s cute, you talking about ‘openmindedness.’”

He ran his tongue over his teeth when she talked about them being sexier than the T-Rex. Not quite as sharp (most of the month, anyway). Frank allowed her to walk them around it, glancing from her to the dinosaur to the other, smaller exhibits around. He took a step back when she stopped, having taken that long to realize they weren’t going anywhere, letting out a breath as she trapped him against her. Hands lightly rested on her waist as he smirked down to her. “Could just…?” Raising an eyebrow, he leaned his lower half against her, finally stepped back and forcing her forward with him.

Frank ducked out of her arms, turning a bit and grabbing on to her hand, tugging her away from the dinosaur. They could continue their walk through the exhibit; it was dangerous to let Laney stay in one spot for too long. The possibilities of hidden alcoves was far too tempting. "Have you been to the Wizarding Museum?" He swung their arms lightly back and forth, making sure they were alone as he whispered questions to her.