Sunday, 18^th of December 2011
Sellaphix Home
Marylebone, London

Figaro was home for Sunday dinner but disgruntled about it. He’d have preferred to stay at his flat and sleep away his day off. But it was Christmas, Frank was back, dad was back and he didn’t like the idea of disappointing his mother who’d gotten more firm about the ritual. At least the food was always good; Frank and Rafe were mages in the kitchen.

Citing being ‘tired from a long week’ (rather than exhausted from almost getting killed, falling out with Kurby, falling out with Moira and a general malaise) Figaro was up in his old bed in the room he shared with Frank trying to have a nap. He wanted to avoid requests for updates as long as possible.

The change in him was well-noted however, Figaro never deft at hiding his state of mind.

“Fig. Fig. Fig. Fig. Fig. Fig. Fig.”

Frank had come upstairs to bother him and was repeatedly nudging him.

“Fig. Fig. Fig. Figaro. Fig. Fig. Fig. Fig.”

Normally, Figaro could outlast Frank during nonsense like this, but this time Frank got the better of him.

“Merlin, go away!” Figaro grumbled and tossed an arm back to try and shove his little brother away.

Frank dodged and didn’t, in fact, go away. He hadn’t seen his big brother in ages and all he wanted was to spend time with him. Which, in his thirteen-year-old brain, translated to bothering him until he got attention.

“Stop sleeping,” Frank said.

“I’m not sleeping,” Figaro replied.

“Then get up!”

“No.”

Figaro didn’t move. Frank frowned. He hadn’t wanted to resort to dirty tricks, but Figaro had forced his hand. He moved to the otherside of the room and declared, “I’ve got your iPhone.”

Figaro jumped up and lunged for the mobile. With little room to maneuver Frank laughed and curled into a ball concealing the muggle device. Even though Frank was getting taller (and would probably end up taller than Fig), Fig still had the physical advantage.

“Ow!” Frank laughed. Any attention was good attention. “Why do you even have one of these? It’s not going to work, obviously.”

Figaro dug his hand in and pried the phone loose.

“None of your business.”

“Can I try it? We can go in the back garden?” Frank asked hopefully. There were enough wards and enchantments on the house that muggle electronics fritzed - Fig hadn’t been able to get the thing started up.

Fig furrowed his brow. “What do you know about phones?”

Frank scoffed. “It’s the modern day, Figaro. Duh.” Some of his classmates had Hogwarts had brought their phones to school.

For a moment Figaro considered his brother, picking up on his need for his attention. He sighed and relented. “Fine, but it’s cold.”

Outside, Fig and Frank went to the back fence under a trellis for the best signal and shelter from the drizzle. Figaro handed over the iPhone to Frank who eagerly took it and began navigating it rather deftly.

“How’d you get this? These are super expensive, and you have to buy a plan.”

Figaro shrugged. “My mate Sasha set it up.”

“Makes sense, actually,” Frank replied. He knew Sasha a little from Ravenclaw. Everyone knew he was loaded and lived in a mansion. “You can get games on this, you know.”

“I know.”

“Why don’t you have any? You need Angry Birds. Ooh, and Fruit Ninja. I’m getting you Fruit Ninja.” Frank started tapping and flicking and thumbing the keyboard. Figaro watched.

“School good?” Fig asked.

“School’s good,” Frank responded, mostly engaged with the phone.

“You get ambushed by Rafe?”

“Yeah. It was awkward.”

“Got a girlfriend?” Figaro asked with a smirk.

“Psh! Like I’d tell you.” Frank scoffed.

“You don’t have a girlfriend,” Figaro surmised. He was right. Frank hadn’t a girlfriend but he’d never really wanted one and it was the subject of some internal consternation.

“Boyfriend?”

“Here. It’s downloaded.” Frank handed the phone back and turned it sideways. Saved by the install. “You’re gonna cut the fruit by swiping on the screen.”

The two played Fruit Ninja for a few minutes, Frank having a hard time just letting Figaro do it. After a bit of Frank constantly flinching his hands towards the phone and saying, “here,” Figaro just gave it to him. Frank squatted down on his heels in the stover of last year’s garden.

“How’s your job?” Frank asked as he destroyed watermelons with a glowing fire sword.

“Job’s good.”

“You still friends with that raven?”

Figaro nodded. “Yeah, she’s bringing me stuff.”

“That’s cool.”

The brothers fell silent again, engrossed in the game. Eventually, Frank was able to let go of the phone long enough for Figaro to play, which is when Frank had more to say.

“I want to see your flat sometime.”

Figaro glanced up with a smile. “You can stay over a few nights after Christmas. We’ll get pizza.”

Frank smiled back, then looked back down at the phone. “Sweetness.”