"Was Fauna or Level 2 put on notice for not following protocol?" Sasha asked, deciding in favor of the round spectacles and following Figaro to the cash register.  "They made assumptions and shared information without verifying who they were sharing it with.  Even if you didn't correct them, hardly seems fair for you to shoulder all the blame." 

It was very possible there were key elements to the story that Figaro was omitting, either because he preferred not to or he was overlooking their significance. 

With a sly grin, Sasha glanced at Figaro.  "I'm still curious what he said.  Are you not dishing the gossip because you didn't actually get any information or is this some flash of maturity and life lessons learned?" 

In contrast, Sasha could absolutely see Figaro making unnecessary comments about Ira Almasy and, if that had been the case, the sensitively-aimed hex was probably warranted.   "To be fair, I might have done the same," Sasha pointed out as he retrieved his credit card and handed it over to the cashier while Figaro fumbled for the proper currency to cover his own purchase. 

"I spent my share of nights in the nurse's office."  He nodded his head.  "How could I not remember her?  She was ... creepy.  Not like some of the other professors but just ... abnormal.  You know?  Like, I bet she has some really freaky skills." 

"Oh, no, Carstairs made me sit there and interview him. He was chuffed to do it, too. Gave a proper statement with this smug-arse smile on his face and then owled Cuffe immediately after to thank him.[1] And as if anyone would write Fauna up, come on. You know they all love her there."

He started laying out coins on the counter in front of the register and glanced up at Sasha who was honestly going to be disappointed. "And he didn't say anything, not really. I don't even think anything was usable."

Figaro waved a hand. It didn't matter. At least Sasha was the first one to actually take his side on this one. Too late, but vindicating just the same.

"But yea, now Nadge's seen my balls so all in all fun day."

He smiled at the sunglasses sales associate who couldn't help but overhear. Then he took his receipt and new shades and stepped to the side until Sasha was done at the till.

"So what about you? Just going to be in school your whole life, then?" Fig wasn't being snide about it. It seemed very Sasha to figure out a way to do that.

1.	[Aug 10] Who the $%!@ is Figaro Sellaphix!

"That seems completely unfair."  Sasha concluded as he slipped his credit card back into his wallet.  Unless there was a significant portion of the story missing, it sounded like Fig had gotten the brunt of the blame for Fauna's assumptions and the Head of the DMLE's tricking him.  But, there was one portion of the story he definitely could believe. 

"Bloody flower child, that one."  Of course no one would point fingers at Fauna.  "It was the same back at Hogwarts, though, wasn't it?  I suppose some things never change." 

"It's alright.  I've heard more than my fair share of that stuff."  A simple shrug was the only physical sign Sasha gave of any personal disappointment.  "I'd like to think he'd avoid divulging information to the press that I haven't already heard but ... curiosity and cats, you know?" 

Curiosity that, oddly, did not extend to the particulars of the Healer's job description.

All Sasha could do in response to the kiosk cashier's look of surprised confusion was laugh and shrug helplessly.  "He's an exuberant gamer," he offered, stretching his muggle worthy excuses skills to their limit.  "You know how it is.  You get shot on screen and controllers just -" he mimed jumping and controllers being launched in various directions while fingers bashed desperately at buttons before quickly leading Figaro off to confuse some new muggle victim. 

"I'm so sorry, Alter[1].  That must have been super awkward.  I lost it a few times in front of her - that was bad enough and I was mostly clothed." 

Sasha let out a short, desperate groan when Figaro asked about school.  "Don't remind me!  I have exams in a week and I'm still not sure I'm over A-Levels and our other A-Levels."  He was starting to wonder why he kept doing this to himself.  "But, I'm learning to balance school and ... things not school.  I have a girlfriend and I'm trying to decide whether to sell my soul to Level 9." 

1.	Colloquial for dude/buddy

"Oh, right! You and Abby!" as they began walking away to the next thing. That was the part he'd picked up on first. What friends were up to always seemed to be his first priority.

Figaro was wandering towards food, some innate sense taking him towards something or other wrapped in bread.

"She's great."

 He peeled stickers and tags from the sunglasses and put them on and walked with his hands in his pockets. He could get used to this mall thing.

"Nine as in Mysteries? Not you, too?" Why did literally every person he know work at the Ministry of Magic. Off the top of his head, the only people who he could think of who were was Ariadne who was somewhere around the Daily Prophet and Deus Deres who was suddenly an author? Oh well, there was Peyton with Quiddy. And Moira. Alright, so not everyone but it felt like that.

"Yea, don't do it." He hoped it as clear he was pulling his leg. "Come to the Prophet. We've got researchers."

Heat flushed quickly up Sasha's cheeks and a broad, ridiculous grin spread practically from ear to ear.  "Yes, Abigail is great.  I mean, she's funny and beautiful and adventurous and like sees the best in everything.  I-"  He started to say, immediately reaching for his phone to pull up ridiculous pictures on facebook, but cut himself off before risking sending Figaro into a diabetic shock. 

But, there was absolutely no denying it.  The luck fairies had, finally, decided to show him some mercy.  "Like, don't know how I got this luck.  I know she's too good for me but I'm grateful ach day that passes without her figuring it out.  You know what I mean?" 

He followed Figaro's lead, picking at the little price tag flag off the arms of his glasses - as much a nervous tick as anything. 

"Yeah - Mysteries.  I'm just as surprised as you," he admitted.  He freed price tag and sticker from his glasses but, rather than slip the glasses on, he tucked them back in his pocket and turned his attention to repeatedly rolling and unrolling the sticker between his fingers.  Like a cat ignoring the splendid cat tree in favor of the shipping box.  "I never thought I'd end up at the Ministry.  I mean, after Miranda Storm told me I'd lose all chance at a respectable job if I went to Cambridge, I figured I was resigning myself to doing my own thing.  Mysteries is probably my only shot at anything decent." 

Sasha scoffed at the idea of him working for the Prophet, fairly certain he'd have nothing to offer them.  "Oh, I'm sure they'd be delighted to have me split my time with Cambridge," he countered, sarcasm paired nicely with rolling his eyes.  "Naw, man.  With everything Skeeter has on me in their archives, they probably think I'm some nutty necromancer just like Virgil, Morgenthau and everyone else does."  All which carried a touch more bitterness than Sasha had intended.

"Sorry, mate."

He was so serious. Figaro listened patiently, truly interested in the twists and turns of Sasha's strange life, but even talking about his girlfriend seemed to be loaded with pressure. Pressure he really didn't need.

"You shouldn't worry so much about other people," Figaro said. There was a water feature, an indoor fountain with coins all along the bottom. Fig sat down on the edge and looked up at Sasha.

"I don't want to sound like a prat, but really, to hell with anyone else. It'll make you feel better. And your relationship with Abby will tank if you're just afraid she's going to dump you the whole time. She likes you, get over it."

Maybe it was that he hadn't seen Sash in a while, maybe it was his dad just getting out of Azkaban, reconciling with Fauna (again), but Figaro just wanted Sasha to be happy. And the way Figaro managed to be happy was doing whatever felt right, even if people were pushing him to do something else.

"Just do your own shit, mate. And if it turns out bad, now you know." Figaro shrugged and smiled. He learned the last bit from experience.

Sasha followed Figaro over to the fountain, lowering himself to sit on the fountain wall next to him.  He listened carefully to Figaro as the other talked, his hands braced against the wall for purchase as he leaned back over the water so he could unfold his long legs in front of him. 

"When did you get to be so wise?" Sasha asked, casting a grin at Figaro.  "I'd say you sound like someone's mum, but it's definitely not my mum."  No.  Both of his parents had always had had their own specific approach to parenting.  Sasha tugged the glasses free from his shirt pocket and slipped them on. 

"You're right," Sasha admitted, with a slight shrug.  "I mean, I guess I know you're right but knowing the theory behind making a pot- a recipe and making the dish are vastly different.  My parents worried about reputation so much - it was all that mattered.  I haven't figured out how to break the habit, you know?" 

"You really, truly, not care what anyone thinks?"  he asked, with nothing but earnest curiosity in his voice.  "Not even your mum and Frank?"

Wise? That was a new adjective. Kind of an honor coming from Sasha, the oldest nineteen-year-old he knew.

"Fauna was bound to rub off sooner or later," Figaro said with a very self-aware shrug. And if he didn't sound like Sasha's mum, he certainly didn't sound like Zelda who was not the sort for self-esteem pep talks. Her dinner toasts usually had more to do with doing whatever it takes. And his dad wasn't the Talk About Serious Things Type. So yeah. That left everyone's Hufflepuff House Mum Fauna, then.

Figaro really was aware it was all easier said than done.

"Just fake it until you figure it out. Make loads of mistakes, get Raine to set fire to your pants, and have a shit-ton of fun in the mean time. It's worth it."

Fig turned ninety degrees and moved his hand through the water. "I mean I do care. I'm not out to be an arsehole," he chuckled. "It's really shitty when everyone's angry with you. But if I stopped to take a head-count before making choices, I'd literally die. Never been good at maths and spend all that time worrying? Hell..."

Flick! In a practiced motion, Figaro re-angled his hand and flicked a little spray of water up at Sasha. Figaro was rather cavalier about the whole thing, but he didn't know a better way. He knew he was far from the most mature or put-together of any of his cohorts and he didn't adore that, but what else were you going to do? Live someone else's life?

Oh, feelings. How fun to have them.

Sasha gave a short laugh and shook his head.  "I can craft custom charms and solve calculus problems by hand, but I wouldn't know where to begin to get Raine to set my pants on fire." 

Intentionally making mistakes.  Having fun. 

Sasha half-listened as Figaro elaborated on his impulsive endeavors, nodding occasionally but, simultaneously, getting lost down his own mental rabbit hole.  Of course, he'd made mistakes in the past - many of them.  The problem was, he was generally so careful that the mistakes he made had resulted in practically catastrophic consequences.  Maybe he did need to intentionally tip the balance towards smaller, simpler, frivolous mistakes.  Mistakes where the outcomes were more rewarding then they were punishing. 

Lost as he was down that path, Sasha hadn't noticed Figaro move until cold water splashed his shirt.  He glanced at the wet patch, grinning nervously, before casting a furtive glance at those walking by.  Most seemed completely apathetic to the blatant case of rule-breaking, but a few were casting disapproving glances in their direction. 

"What?  Is that ... are you making a point?" Sasha asked, looking back towards Figaro.  "I don't think we're supposed to mess with the water.  And, these places do have security officers.  Some even have jail cells."  Sasha wasn't sure if that was really true and, if so, certainly not for the purpose of water-felonies. 

Figaro initially met Sasha's little fluster over a bit of water with a snort. He wasn't making a point, he was having a laugh. It was a truth universally known that a water feature in a public place begged to be tampered with. And supposed to? What had they just been talking about?

But Figaro's instinct to further provoke Sasha for being an eager rule-follower was stifled. This muggle shopping mall of Cambridge was Sasha's turf and the rules were different. But how different. He followed Sasha's darting glance at the mention of 'security officers'.

"Really?" he hissed. "For a fountain...?"

There was a moment of calm, just a second or two,  Just enough time for a juvenile impulse to quickly mature into a bad decision.  Sasha was taller, but Figaro was stronger. And Fig had the jump. Figaro swept forward, caught Sasha behind the back of the legs and flipped him backwards over the edge into the shallow fountain.

Figaro immediately took on the role of a scandalized onlooker, looking around and exclaiming with much concern.

"Oh my god, Sasha! I don't think that's allowed!"

He was grinning. Really shouldn't have done that. Too much. Bit overboard. At least the shopping bag was safe on shore.

"Well...not just for a fountain."  Sasha shrugged, his mind only giving Figaro's question passing consideration.  "It's really mostly about shoplifters."  There were far more tempting ideas to ponder. 

He'd been far too easily distracted by the puzzle of getting Raine to hex him in the ... feet.  Let's go with feet.  Or, just generally do something so driven by impulse and in-the-moment-whims that he forgot to think about the consequences.  He'd actually managed just that during his summer escapades around the globe; it had been a lot easier when he'd gotten away from everything here, a place where the smallest of mistakes had always seemed to snap back with profound consequences. 

With those memories on the tip of his tongue and as the potential road map for such an endeavor closer to home, Sasha had started to turn towards Figaro with a raised finger of revelation.   

A loud splash, quickly muffled by water closing just above his ears, and Sasha found himself lying on his back in the fountain.  "Mein Gott!" he laughed as he quickly scrambled to his feet, tiny ripples lapping at his shoes.  "Figaro!  You...I'm soaked!" he pointed out the obvious as he stared down at his half-drenched sleeves.  A substantial contingency of bystanders was starting to collect and Sasha glanced around for the brave man and woman of the shopping center squad who would undoubtedly come rolling their way on segways soon.  "Scheiß!  We should-"

His gaze tracked back to Figaro as he hesitated a moment before lowering himself to sit, cross-legged, in the fountain. 

"We're going to mall prison, Fig."

Oh, that was satisfying. Oh, Sasha delivered just the reaction Figaro thrived off - not only that a new and unfamiliar ... ease that wasn't quite resignation but certainly wasn't abject horror. He felt a little bit of pride, really. Figaro crossed his arms, covered his mouth and stood back hiding a big smile and admiring the situation.

He was also on the look out this alleged mall security. Would they thunder out on flaming steeds, Apparate in with overwhelming force? Or maybe a tiny golf cart with a tiny wee-woo siren? Some of the muggles were holding up their iPhones. Sasha had sat down.

Still grinning and really very unconcerned about muggle rule-enforcers, Figaro finally did step up and hold out his hand to help up Sasha.

"Here, mate, let's get you a cappuccino."

"Oi!"

A stern sort of fellow in a branded uniform had budged through the congregation.

"You think you're funny, do you? Who's going to clean this up?" He indicated the splash zone.

Figaro lifted his hand. "Go easy on him, sir, he just likes ponds is all."

Still grinning broadly, Sasha had started to reach for Figaro's hand when the noble uniform of The Grand Arcade arrived on the scene.  With his arrival, Sasha dropped his arm back to his side, his hand half-submerged in the water. 

Sasha's aversion to rule breaking was very much a deep-seated character trait.  But, his closest friends knew there was a trait that ran even deeper and could, given the right circumstances and social push, supersede that tendency: his aversion to doing things half-assed.  Writing a paper?  Give at least 110% effort.  Work assignment?  Ditto.  Going to get busted for playing rubber ducky in a mall pond?  It was either an A++ effort or none.

"Go easy on him, sir, he just likes ponds is all."

"It's true," he offered the officer, with deadpan seriousness.  "I was a swan in a past life.  My spiritual advisor thinks my wallowing tendencies are an effort to make peace with a tragic and embarrassing drowning.  For a swan." 

"What?  Are you on something?" the officer asked, glancing between Figaro and Sasha. 

"Oh no, sir.  Not at all.  Luckily, there isn't really any mess to clean up.  That's the beauty of water-based messes, such as this.  Assuming the relative atmosphere of the environment is less than 100%, this will be a self-cleaning mess.  It'll almost be like magic and, you won't -." 

Mr. Mall Cop was reaching for the radio at his belt.  That was the cue to leave. 

"Perhaps we should go commune with past lives elsewhere?" Sasha asked Figaro, though he hadn't, yet gotten to his feet.

Figaro cracked a smile as Sasha begin weaving an excuse that sounded like a seventh year Magical Theory text book. Damn. The security guy seemed less than dazzled, however, and in fact grew more suspicious. This time, Figaro reached to help Sasha up with more urgency.

"Aye, that'd be best, I think," Figaro said agreeing with a serious look and a stern nod. "This one, and his water features. Past lives and all."

There were now a few titters of laughter, and that was fuel for Figaro. Any kind of attention really.

"Attaboy. Shall we?"

Figaro linked arms with Sasha and hurried them quickly away as if on their way to a picnic. He steered them into a department store that smelled like a mix between a hospital and apothecary. They disappeared into a forest of clothes racks.

And, this time, Sasha took the extended hand and used the leverage to pull himself to his feet, water sloshing down from his sodden clothes. 

Just because it seemed unlikely he could make things worse, Sasha paused just long enough to reach his hand out towards the mall cop.  Luckily, schooled reflex kicked in and the officer reached out to shake it, with a look of utter confusion.  Sasha spoke quickly, but with exaggerated reverence.

"Thank you.  Thank you, sir, for your years of service.  You're bravery here, on the shopping front line, is just-"

Figaro hooked his arm and (probably for the best) took the lead in their escape through the mall.  Sasha followed, managing to keep his footing as water sloshed out of his shoes and onto the polished floor. 

"Fig, Fig!" Sasha laughed, glancing over his shoulder once they'd waded into the racks of clothes.  There was no sign of the heroic mall cop behind them.  "We're mall fugitives!  I'm sure they'll spend the rest of the day going through security footage so we end up on some wall full of banned ragamuffin pictures."  He nodded his head towards the restrooms, ready to find a source of hot air to dry his clothes. 

"So...?" he asked, his voice trailing off as he led the way towards an electric hand dryer.