Gale listened to Jacoba as he swirled his wine, the red merlot was rather thick and he enjoyed the deep cherry aftertaste, but even the warm feeling of the spirit couldn’t shake the child chill he felt when she spoke of Sasha’s family. There was something else, something unspeakable going on, but at least he understood a little more.

It also broke his heart to hear the way she seemed to think her family gave up on her, and Gale wanted to speak about his own. He wanted to reassure her that not everyone felt that way, and felt very thankful for the way he was raised.

“Sometimes, my father would speak of a time when he grew up in such a way, and why he gave it up. I always wondered why. I loved the idea of having a house, but even now I can’t seem to get out of my nomadic life. I’ve never owned a place of my own.” Gale crossed one arm over his chest, the other hand still holding the glass of wine.

“But I couldn’t imagine every putting my children through this. Where is your father now? Where is he when Sasha needs him? I mean, Sasha has a kingdom of Hogwarts staff that would throw their lives at his feet, but where is the family? So think of that, Jacoba, before you look for faults in yourself, or how they might feel. No one is perfect. Clearly. I—“ He clenched his jaw, and set his glass down.

“Clearly, this man needs an adjustment to his outlook. There is nothing more that angers me than a purist who thinks they are better than we are. Or puts one child over the other because of sex, or even blood. How dare he.”

So, the  man's father had come from similar upper class stock but found his own escape.  It seemed Nightingale's father and Jacoba shared a similar life story.  "A house isn't always a home," Jacoba remarked, shaking her head.  "I've never owned a place of my own, either - I suppose you could say I become nomadic."  Somehow, though, Jacoba suspected in a very different style.  "I used the term 'strategic household guest' more.  Lot of floor crashing.  Especially in winter." 

Jacoba cast a glance out the window at the light rain sliding down the window pane.  She'd weathered her share of nights like this - but only if she couldn't find someone to invite her home.  With a decisive shake of her head, she looked back.  Still, if she had it to do over, she'd chose winding up on those streets over growing up in that house over and over again. 

“But I couldn’t imagine every putting my children through this. Where is your father now?"

The question caught Jacoba by surprise and she turned back towards the fellow.  Did he not know?  She remained quiet for a few moments after Gale finished speaking, watching for any sign that indicated this was sarcasm or simply a rhetorical question.  "You don't know?"  She waited a moment for some sort of counter indication before leaning back in her seat. 

Jacoba took a long sip of her wine, trying to quess if the man not knowing was simply her brother being her brother or if there was some other reason.  She couldn't imagine why one of his professors would be deliberately left in the dark - it seemed a worthwhile thing to know.  If, for no other reason than Jacoba was sure it was still impacting the kid's schooling. 

"Well- he's dead."  Jacoba paused, again, watching for any flicker of recognition.  "My mother and our sister as well.  And, one of au pair.  A man - a dark wizard, they say, broke into their home last Christmas and killed them.  From what I understand, the man was coming after Sasha.  The only reason he got out was he, somehow, got the upper hand and killed the man.  He doesn't talk about it much.  It was a - it was a pretty horrid scene." 

Strategic Household Guest, he liked that--very much, and would have offered her to come stay with him over the holiday if she needed but felt it might not have been proper. He'd outed himself hadn't he? Spoke of the boy whose heart he broke, and how badly he wanted to mend it. All Gale thought about anymore was Chaz, and kept his secret like a coin beneath his pillow each night. Far too early for love, but maker he'd been bitten.

"But I would like to make a home. With children of my own. I'm so envious of the staff at school that have such a family. I struggle with the jealousy and make an ass of myself far too often." He admitted quietly, but fell silent to listen to her speak of Sasha's father. No. He didn't know. And as she explained further Gale went cold, because now he did remember this. He remembered the stories, and the boy. He was much younger then, hardly an adult, but thought of the son as a child he would have happily raised as even then his desire to love the way he had been loved ran hot in his blood. Though the relationship with his father was strained now, the affection was still there; Gale simply couldn't accept what it was his family did for their living, but he still very much loved them.

"This wasn't long ago was it? Before my time teaching, but not by much? Dear sweet boy, no wonder he keeps his dog close." Gale hadn't realized his hands were shaking until he tried to get to his wine, but knew they wouldn't be any good to him now. In an attempt for a distraction he ran them back through his hair, "He struggles very much with it still." 

Gale clenched his jaw to fight back the burst of emotion that overwhelmed him, and the guilt. No wonder the poor boy struggled so much when they covered their memory charms.

"Pardonnez-moi," He spoke in French, pushing from the table, "I just need a few minutes." And with that he moved from the table to step out on the porch of the restaurant, the cold wind hit him hard but quickly helped to calm his rabbit heart. It wasn't something he did very often, but Gale wished he had a smoke. The toxins would have felt wonderful about now, and helped ease his mind. His guilt turned to anger and rage, blind madness that would have him take the life of another without second though, and this was what he struggled with outside. He wasn't his father, nor his people, he wasn't Arthur, nor his family--but gods he wanted to just....kill.

A years worth of therapy just took three steps backward.

Jacoba shook her head. 

"Last winter.  Last Christmas, to be exact," she replied quietly.  It hadn't been long at all and they were swiftly approaching the anniversary.  Jacoba knew she should probably be asking her brother about it - checking in to see if he was alright - but, she simply didn't know how to broach the topic.  Every time she tried, Sasha evaded the topic.  On the one occasion Jacoba had tried to push the issue, Sasha had simply walked away. 

The man across from her seemed physically shaken by the information - more so than Jacoba had expected.  Jacoba nodded when the fellow got to his feet and excused himself. 

Had she made a mistake in telling the man?  It was hard to tell with her brother sometimes.  He probably would have preferred Jacoba hadn't divulged the information but Jacoba hadn't exactly said anything the man couldn't have found out on his own.  Nothing that hadn't already been made public. 

During the man's absence, the server came around and set the food on the table.  She dipped a slice of bread in the sauce pooling around the pasta, waiting for the man to return. 

"I'm sorry," Jacoba offered when Nightingale did, indeed, return to the table.  "I didn't mean to upset you." 

"I'm sorry, it's not that you did. I'm glad you told me. I am just angry with myself for not seeing the signs." He felt better after having a little smoke, "I'm just not sure that I want to understand any further. I didn't know that was Sasha. He such a sweet child, very clever and put together so well. I could tell something was wrong, but this? I remember it well actually." Who wouldn't?


"I can just imagine how hard this has been for him." Gale didn't have any interest in his food, but pushed the pasta around on his plate before asking for another glass of wine--a white this time, something much sweeter.

"I would take them all home if I could." He finally smiled when he spoke of his students, "Shelter every single one of them. You too. You can come live in my new house. As soon as I find one I like enough. I want to make that my goal for the next year." He liked her, and though they only just met--he felt as though he had known Jacoba his entire life.

"But what about you then? What happens to you next?"

Jacoba nodded, agreeing and confirming most of what the professor had to say.  But, she respected his request to not be allowed to understand further, and let the topic drop. 

"I would take them all home if I could." He finally smiled when he spoke of his students, "Shelter every single one of them. You too. You can come live in my new house. As soon as I find one I like enough. I want to make that my goal for the next year."

With a soft grin and a slight nod, Jacoba took a sip of her wine.  "Where were you nine years ago?  I would have happily taken you up on that offer.  Especially on a night like tonight."  She glanced out the window at the cold streets outside. 

But now?  What happened to her now?  "I'm not entirely sure," she admitted.  "I'm working in a little record shop down in the Alley and I've made a little nest in the attic.  I don't know what will come of it - where I'll be in the coming months.  I'm not sure how the laws will work for me once my brother's legally an adult.  Frankly, I'm not sure if any of them know what to do with me.  So, keep doing the same until I need to change."

Maybe something would come along in the meantime.  It was hard to say.