The Last Unicorn was one of Sasha's favorite movies. Abby mentally added it to their movie-marathon list, and sipped at her sherry, unsettled as to her own confusion over the book that she'd apparently read without remembering reading, though thankfully Virgil and Sasha had heard of it. She had not heard of The Jungle Book, however, and raised her eyebrows at Moira to see if she knew anything about the book, which was also a movie. Too confusing!

"Is The Last Unicorn a book or a movie?"

A book, she was about to answer, when Virgil's father introduced himself. She smiled, relieved at the topic change and happy to meet Virgil's father.

She stood for a moment, laughing at Virgil's description of them all, and shook the playwright's hand. Abby glanced between father and son. Mr. Carstairs seemed very gracious, with Virgil's sensitivity but lacking his jaded air. Virgil's sighing made her smile behind the last of her pumpkin spice, it reminded her so much of how certain members of her family reacted to her social nature.

"Our first of many," she nudged Moira and flashed a grin back at her, determined to hang out with her more often and prompt any amusing snarky comments that she suspected were behind her eye-rolls.

Moira had appeared to like the show, despite her initial reluctance, and Virgil and Moira had been tolerating each other well enough, which gave Abby room to make eyes at Sasha across the dinner table and giggle at his comments about burly animal handlers. Win win!

"Virgil mentioned acting in a Christmas show, and inheriting the youth troupe."

Abby hoped that the teenagers were just a little unruly so Virgil would share some good stories.

"But first, there's something of yours this fall?"

She focused with polite interest on Virgil's father.

“That’s a long time to hold a grudge,” Sasha remarked, with a slight grin, as he turned his attention hurriedly to the menu.  The period-inspired menu wasn’t the most vegetarian-friendly and Sasha had do some improvisation.  “But, it’s a reasonable grudge.  I can’t help but understand, given - well, you know.”  He wasn’t sure if Virgil would get it but this was hardly the time nor place to elaborate. 

Portraying a unicorn on stage might be a challenge, but one that could be overcome with a little bit of creativity.  Muggles, after all, portrayed unicorns all the time and only had improvisation at their disposal.  “You could use a trained horse with an illusion charm.  Or, you could do something clever with light animation.  Either could have an interesting and unique effect. 

He was about to answer Virgil’s question when a new voice entered the conversation.  “Nah, ja,” Sasha confirmed with a slight grin as he pushed himself to his feet, straightened his coat and extend a proper hand when his name had been offered.  “I have both; I’m a fan of the style of animation.” 

Despite his best intentions, Sasha couldn’t help the blushing slightly at Virgil’s choice of introductions and casting an amused grin in Abby’s direction.  “It’s a privilege to meet you, sir,” he offered as he shook the man’s hand - Virgil’s father, if he were to guess based off of the visual similarities.  As he glanced between the two, he couldn’t help but wonder if there were any visual similarities between him and his own father; a question he’d never, actually, considered before.  He have to somehow hunt down pictures of the old man in his youth.   

“Now that we’re free from the binds of education, we’ll be able to get to more shows,“ Sasha offered, tagging onto Abby’s comment about this being only the first of future Stardust experiences.  “It will give us things to do in our abundant free time.” 

He sipped on sweet sherry brew as the trio took it in turn to shake hands with Edgar. In spite of his scepticism towards his father's cheerful demeanour, it was gratifying to glean thoughts that recognised a resemblance between them. Virgil snorted softly to himself at Sasha's formality but the hand on his shoulder squeezed with parental cautioning before he could actually comment on the stiff language.

             "Virgil mentioned acting in a Christmas show, and inheriting the youth troupe." Abby's smalltalk was more natural.
"Big, glittery boots to fill," he quipped dryly.
             "But first, there's something of yours this fall?"

Oh, extra points to Unicorn Girl for that conversational touch.

             "A musical murder mystery. But no spoilers!" Edgar supplied with a smile at the three of them. "And you're all welcome to come watch when it runs in October. You'll bring them, won't you sleepy boy?"

That was his cue. Virgil narrowed his eyes at this public use of his childhood nickname and decided that he much preferred Abby's version of it. He looked up, over his shoulder at the older wizard. "Obviously. Don't you have somebody else to be embarrassing right now, by the way?" His raised eyebrows were mirrored by Edgar's own, fatherly amusement softening the remark.

            "Now that you mention it," he tousled Virgil's hair and glanced at the others. "Enjoy the party. When he gets the fiddle out -" a careless gesture at the violin on the chair, " - you'll know it's time to leave."

"Oi!" Virgil protested but Edgar only laughed, leaving the table. He watched his father go with a smile he failed to repress. "You lot had better like musicals and murder," the young thespian muttered when he turned back to his company, "or you'll be in for a very strange three hours."

Sasha was so damn cute when he talked so formally to Virgil's father! Abby's grin widened as she glanced at him, and her shoulders shook in a silent giggle as she shook her head.

Sleepy boy? Oh Merlin, the giggles came out. Abby took a hasty sip of sherry, hiding her mirth behind her glass. She was going to remember that one.

"We'll be there!" She smiled after Virgil's father, so very glad she'd just witnessed that cute family scene. She wondered what the rest of Virgil's family was like, and if they all tormented him like she tormented Aileen.

"You lot had better like musicals and murder," Virgil muttered when he turned back to his company, "or you'll be in for a very strange three hours."

"But I do like musicals, and Moira likes hexing," Abby nudged the girl. "And we've already established that strange is just more interesting," she continued to tease, unable to help herself.

"Though your father was wrong about one thing - if you play that violin, we'll stay and I promise not to tease you," she cajoled, grinning. "We might as well, anyway. We have an abundance of free time," she shot a flirtatious look at Sasha.

Abby sat back and sipped more sherry. Three teasing remarks to three different people in just a few sentences! A new record, even for Abby.

As the rules of etiquette suggested indicated, Sasha remained on his feet as the group exchanged pleasantries with Virgil's father and Abby giggled.  Those faithful rules of etiquette also suggested that they should extend an invitation to join them to the man, but little about Virgil's fidgeting and tone offered encouragement. 

Which all resulted in Sasha being faced with a quandary: he was supposed to remain standing until the senior-most member of the group took their seat, but there didn't seem to be any interest around the table in extending such an invitation.  How long was Mr. Carstairs going to be staying with them and when was he supposed to resume his seat? 

"It sounds like it'll be quite entertaining," Sasha offered.  It still felt a little strange to be planning activities in London in the middle of the fall; part of him was still convinced he'd be at Hogwarts at the time. 

It didn't help that he felt mildly uncomfortable watching the familial antics between father and son, like he was intruding upon something personal and private.  And, as much as he tried to resist the temptation to fidget, he couldn't resist glancing around the room for something to focus his attention on as the father exchanged nicknames with the son. 

Despite having had three potential father figures, thankfully, embarrassment via public displays of affection had never been a concern for Sasha. 

"Thank you, sir, we are looking forward to it," Sasha offered, politely, as Mr. Carstairs parted ways with their table.  Finally, he took his seat and sipped his drink.

"But I do like musicals, and Moira likes hexing."

Sasha looked across the table at Abby and blinked, before a broad grin stretched across his face.  "So, which of the two of us did you leave the murder for?" he asked, gesturing slightly towards himself and then Virgil with his glass. 

"I didn't know you played," he admitted truthfully, glancing towards the violin case.  "So, if you think we're going to miss that, then you clearly don't know us very well. "  He settled comfortably back in his chair.  "I always thought it would be fun to act.  I never got much beyond being an extra in school productions, but even that was fun."

As usual, silence prevailed from Moira's side of the table during the exchange between Virgil's father and everyone else, Sasha continuing to awkwardly stand until Edgar Carstairs left them alone again. Listening to the exchange was certainly interesting enough.

Sasha's comment about free time did pull a remark out of her though, "I don't know if I would say abundant." Officially she was starting her job tomorrow at the Magical Menageries ranch. Even with that time taken up she didn't plan on shirking her duties to the McBoid farm. Letting her dad and uncle pick up her slack while she had been at school was one thing, she hadn't been home except on vacation. With a job that was no longer the case. Moira would do her fair share.

                      "But I do like musicals, and Moira likes hexing."

Moira glanced over at Abby's nudge. Hex someone one time and a person became labeled as hex happy. Thinking back she did recall a few other times at school but those had entirely been in self-defense, not including classes, when her usual blank stare and lack of reaction wasn't enough of a deterrent for some would be bullies. Virgil wasn't in that category, his repetitive, non-unique insult had just irritated Moira beyond her threshold. The gillyweed she'd smoked that night hadn't helped, either.

Regarding staying for any violin playing the witch merely nodded in agreement, taking another drink. Music and acting, beyond her day to day personal mask, was something Moira had never participated in. Other than the lullabies she had heard as a child her parents hadn't either, to her knowledge. Her uncle Duncan's singing left much to be desired. Hearing a practiced hand would be a nice change.