Adon never went to another's house without liquor if he could help it. Particularly if they were going to talk. And were they ever going to talk. Adon needed -- well, wanted. But that was nearly the same thing -- to know more about the change in his friend's behaviour. And what was more, he wanted to be confident in calling Archer a friend.

Not just a co-worker or beer buddy. Adon had been here for nearly four months and while Dreogan had been his closest friend in Israel, things had been different here. They worked in the same place. They butted heads more frequently. Dreogan wasn't the same. Distant. Tense. Stubborn. He had a girlfriend and had been through a lot, but did he have to be so. . . so ____ about it? There were no words for it.

So he, naturally, wanted to spend more time with the one person he knew words didn't matter all too much to. He wanted some advice. And perhaps he could give some, too. Adon had been in a stealth office relationship. With a bunch of Aurors, whose vocation consisted of snooping and drawing conclusions, it had been difficult. Eventually, Adon had suspected it would become impossible. He'd been happy, for this reason, to take the time away from all that to come to London. But this was proving difficult as well.

Naturally, with so much to talk about, Adon had brought Ogden's and arak. Ogden's for casual talk. Arak if things were to go down the swanny. Heaving a bit of a sigh, he knocked on the door, hearing already the sounds of the game on the radio.

Archer did not have the heart or the energy to remove the fort Hunter had put up in his living room.  In truth, he actually kind of liked the thing – though he would never say so out loud, particularly not to Hunter.  He masked his fondness for the structure with the excuse he was too lazy and tied up to do anything about it, and then shrunk the furniture, levitated it over, and shoved it inside the fort, returning it to its proper size.  His radio was in one corner of the sheet structure and Archer was in the practically bare kitchen.

He could not remember the last time he actually cooked anything – instant noodles didn’t count – and he had to actually look around for things.  Finding a bag of crisps, Archer shoved it under his arm and grabbed a six-pack he had picked up, both traveling with him as he ducked down through the entrance of the fort and in.  He had removed the “NO GIRLZALLOWED” sign, as though was most assuredly not in Archer’s best interest, but the rest of the thing remained. 

Adon had mentioned stopping by to listen to the game and though Archer did not entertain much, and if he did, it was Eddy – maybe a few of the other guys – for some beers and cards, he wasn’t going to turn down the company or the chance to listen to the game with another person.  If he were going to be alone, he would have gone to the Cauldron or something – though, the last time he had been there, he didn’t really get to enjoy the game – a certain harpy intent on sucking out his soul had made that perfectly clear.  He flipped on the radio (always programmed to the quidditch station), and he sighed as he heard the oh-so-familiar voice over the wireless. 

With a chuckle, he rolled his eyes and put the snacks down and heard a knock on the door.  Ducking out again, he looked behind him at the form – impressive, but also somewhat worrisome for a man of his years (he refused to acknowledge just how many of them he had), and walked to the door.  He peered through the Peeping Tom, habit, and took a brief glance around before lifting the latches and opening the door. 

“Adon,” he greeted easily, stepping out of the way so he could come in – glad to see the drinks in hand.  Adon knew what he was doing.  “It’s still pre-game,” he motioned to the radio, “don’t mind the pillows and sheets.  Hunter has a sense of humor."

"What the f. . .-" Adon began, brows knit as he looked at the very tent-like structure. But it couldn't be. When Adon confirmed that it was not only tent-ish but was, in fact a fort, Adon gave a dry "Hmmm," in response. "Hunter, mn?" he inquired, skeptically as he smirked and laid his drinks down on the coffee table which had, presumably during the construction of the fort, been cast to the side of the room at a careless angle.

"Maybe I shouldn't have come over during the game; maybe Hunter would have wanted to be in on some . . ." he looked at the pillows with a bit of a curled lip, "pillow talk." He squeezed past the precarious construction and settled himself onto the couch, helping himself to a salt and vinegar crisp and one of his own Ogden's. "Feel free to any of the drinks -- arak, you add water, though. Remember. Anyhow, between the two of us, I'd say we're well stocked."

He tilted his head towards the radio. "So, Hunter -- he come around much? I've never met him." Though he'd certainly heard a good deal about him. "Joel, either." Not that he had met most of his co-workers' families. But he had met most of his friends' close associates. It was, he hoped, one of the things that distinguished a professional relation to a personal one. Adon had just managed to weasel his way into Deen's personal life. Of course, he was not all manipulative. Robin was adorable. Adon would never use this word aloud, but he found himself already fond of the tyke.

"How've you been?" he followed-up. It was the requisite question, after all. Even if one knew the answer.

“He thought it would be fun to surprise me,” Archer shrugged, “and I haven’t had the time or energy to take it down.  I did manage to get rid of the ‘no girls allowed’ sign though,” he chuckled and let Adon pass by, through the somewhat cramped and oddly decorated living room.  If anyone entered this flat they could probably perfectly identify the person who lived there – long time bachelor workaholic who didn’t live anywhere near his family and ate out more than four times a week.  Of course, since Joel had showed up, he had to stock up – thank Merlin he was charging him rent. 

Rolling his eyes at his guest, Archer picked up his beer and took another drink, sighing.  “The only reason I would dream of cancelling would be if you were too busy listening to the 50 greatest love song albums your wrock star got for you,” he smirked – recalling the tabloid from early in the month.  He had basically given up on making fun of Adon for it, but, if he was going to push first, Archer was not going to just fall on his bum without giving a shove back. 

He nodded at his offer though and tilted the top of the bottle toward him, “After this, an Ogden’s will do just fine.”  He took another long draw of the amber colored drink and dropped himself into his favorite arm chair.  He did not know what he would do without the beat up, maroon armchair that reclined comfortably.  He had it since he started auror training, now, it was probably the only piece of furniture that survived that long.  When he was satisfied with how comfortable he was, Archer sighed and took another sip of beer. 

“Not too much – only when Mum isn’t around,” Archer laughed, though stalled at the grain of truth in that.  His brother really needed to get a life outside of his parents.  It was just weird.  Very Norman Bates – if that was the right name – he remembered reading about it once – Muggle serial killers ,rather interesting when in the business of crime solving, and the wealth of knowledge on both British and American killers available, Archer had a small wealth of knowledge on the subject.  “You might meet Joel – he’s home – well, here, for a while.  Some accidental death on the reservation in China – got sent back.”

“So… I would classify my situation as slightly impeded upon – this is the most I’ve seen of my brothers in years.  It's a little... odd for us," he shrugged.  “What about you?  All’s well?”

“After this, an Ogden’s will do just fine.”

Adon gave a superior smile at this. Famously able to hold his liquor -- a trait Dreogan had often said was his least marketable and yet most remarkable; Adon didn't doubt the latter but highly questioned the first -- he leaned back in the couch and, with an air of practise, took a longer sip than was necessary. He'd often played Irish Quarters. "Suit yourself," he said, not feeling drunk yet but wishing he did, just a bit. If they were going to talk serious issues, he had much rather be just a bit intoxicated.

"I did manage to get rid of the 'no girls allowed; sign, though."

Too perfect, Adon could not pass up the opportunity to quip back: "Fortunate and timely, no doubt." He didn't press further just yet, however. He'd need to gauge Archer's response but suspected either 1. evasion, 2. feigned disgust and moodiness, or 3. boasting.

For the first, there was persistence, which Adon had not a little of. For the second, there was reciprocity. And the third, well. There was also reciprocity for that. Adon had had his share of successes. Well, but some standards. But he didn't feel particularly satisfied with any of them. It was problematic. One-nights had never failed to please him before Thea. He didn't know why it shouldn't work now in the getting over of her.

“The only reason I would dream of cancelling would be if you were too busy listening to the 50 greatest love song albums your wrock star got for you."

At this, Adon raised an eyebrow condescendingly. "Wrock. Star. You'll start seeing stars if you keep talking like that. I listened to one of their albums, you know," he said matter-of-factly. "Well, the first five minutes at any rate. We haven't talked since that first day, anyhow." As though the quality of their music had something to do with that. And it wasn't quality. Their band was vastly popular; it just made Adon queasy in the stomach. And it wasn't that Trina wasn't smart, quirky, beautiful. . . it was just that she wasn't . . .

Exactly Thea. Or . . . something else. He didn't know. He'd thought that maybe, she'd be a girl whose name you didn't need to know. Only an hour into their conversation and he realised that he did need to know. And then, the next day, he wished he had known the full name. He might have pieced things together. As it was, it was a headache. And not one he was certain he wanted to wait out.

There were other prospects. And Thea was writing daily now. They were now angry howlers. Adon hadn't known she'd read the Prophet. How was he to know? She hadn't even written regarding Kabir. . . Just the other article.

He'd nearly missed what Archer had said next but leaned forward on the couch, blinking. "Accidental death? Moloch, you make it sound so blasé!" Adon encountered death often in his job. He'd seen corpses. He'd witnessed a few deaths himself -- never of those he'd personally, deeply cared about, with the exception, perhaps, of Eldwynn -- but that had been before he had become an Auror. He hoped he would never get so callous; he'd taken great pains that he would not. It did not surprise him, but he allowed it to affect him. Because affect --the ability to cause and to feel -- was the greatest capability mankind could have. "I'm sorry to hear that. A co-worker of his?"

Archer deflected a bit with his next comment -- though, to his credit, he was only returning friendly fire. "Well enough," he shrugged vaguely. If the question was about Dreogan, who he had not talked to since last week, he would plead ignorance.

 “Fortunate and timely, no doubt.”

It did not particularly surprise Archer that Adon made that little comment.  Though they tried to be as discreet as possible, but in an office filled with people who tried to see through lies for a living, it was almost completely impossible to hide a private relationship from them, particularly one that was taking place within their own office.  Granted, it wasn’t quite as big of a deal as Archer anticipated – apparently there had been some sort of secret  pool (talk about really keeping a secret), and there was relatively no commotion about the situation. 

Shrugging his shoulders, Archer took a drink and a few crisps, “She hasn’t been here yet,” he informed him, “her place is closer to work anyway.”  He left the implication hanging about in the air – he told the truth, of course, but he had no interest in debunking any of the manlier aspects of the speculation.  He didn’t want anyone to think he was losing it – or hadn’t even gotten it yet, regardless of the truth of the matter.  That, he could at least, maintain some secrecy in.  People didn’t typically pry that far, and the part about her not being at his place was true. 

With Joel around, he didn’t really have the heart to bring the two together.  Ray had done a number on him in school (all of the Radleys really), and Joel still seemed a little traumatized by the whole thing.  He had been a little shaken that Archer would even consider being in a relationship with her, though the reaction was wholly amusing, so it was worth keeping them apart, with the ever present fear she might show up one day. 

It appeared Adon was having a bit of a rough time with this one too – threatening violence and everything.  A grin spread across his face and Archer waved his hand, dismissing the need for threats.  “You really made yourself disappear this time, Houdini,” he commented with a hearty laugh.  For Adon to avoid a beautiful woman for a month, well, that seemed a bit on the odd side.  From what he gathered, he really shouldn’t have had a problem with Quinn, except for perhaps her band’s… interesting musical selection.

That did appear to be something of a problem, and Archer wouldn’t even bother listening to their stuff to put him to sleep, but he supposed to each their own.  “What’s the problem then?  She is beautiful,” he raised his eyebrows at him, taking another drink.  The bottle was empty and Archer pushed himself off the armchair to retrieve the arak.  Somehow, he felt a more serious turn of events coming and the strong alcohol would… clear his mind.  Pouring the bit of arak and diluting it with a thin stream of water from the tip of his wand, Archer took it graciously, as well as an Ogden’s and sat down again (Didn’t need to get up every time he wanted a drink, after all). 

Regarding Adon with interest at this point, he could have been very amused by his reaction or slightly concerned.  He chose to exhibit  neither, though he found it strange that he chose to take the death of a person involved in so risky a career without a seeming connection except through his brother that he never met… maybe Archer had just been in the work long enough that any death seemed completely normal and uneventful through the course of a day-  though there were notable exceptions that really tugged at him. 

“Sorry I’m not weeping,” he chuckled softly, “but it was the removal of a subordinate male or something like that – major risk.  It was the lead on the expedition, if I remember right.  But the Chinese government removed all of them until the matter could be settled.  Probably a huge international legal battle or something of the like.”  He shrugged again, “So glad I don’t deal in that kind of thing.”  He thought of Dreogan and nodded, definitely glad he didn’t deal in that business. 

“But really, back to the important part.  Why haven’t you seen the girl again?  You can’t be disinterested.”

"She hasn't been here yet." At this, Adon returned his little shrug with one of his own -- a wide-eyed, dramatic shrug. The words "what gives" had been on their way out when the response, as though anticipating the jab, provided enough material. Bare-bones material, but Adon didn't want more.

"Alright, then," he said in a complaining tone, indicating his concern and -- now -- relief. Word in the office was that this had been going on for years. Years. Adon couldn't imagine. Years of lying in wait, like a tightly coiled spring.

He'd have snapped long ago, he decided as he took a sip of his Ogden's. He didn't think he'd need it so soon.

"You really made yourself disappear this time, Houdini," made Adon snort into the drink slightly, nearly losing some through the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah, well," he said, rolling his eyes, "not well enough. Thea -- my ex in Jerusalem -- has been writing almost daily. And the letters keep getting angrier and angrier." He shook his head miserably. "Sort of my ex," he added as an afterthought. Nothing is--was--decided definitively."

Archer's next question -- what the problem was -- should have been clarified enough by the Thea story. He shrugged once more, wanting to say less and just have Archer do something with it -- give some advice or something. And then they could listen to the game. The game started in five minutes. That would be enough time, right? "I, according to you and the spies, have 'disappeared.' That doesn't mean I haven't seen her."

"Anyhow," he said, waving his hand to Archer's surly retort about Joel's co-worker's death . . . before pausing. "Wait. . ." International legal battle. Dealings. . . in that kind of thing. Had this been an illegal -- well, of course not. But what got China all riled up? "Wuthell does Joel do again?"

Archer didn’t really care much for anyone else’s opinion on his relationship with Ray.  It was a difficult one to explain and things had to be handled in a different way.  He had worked with her deceased fiancé and then became her partner years later – he had participated in Tait’s training, been around at the time of the whole ordeal.  It was hard to transition from one thing to the other and deal with the stuff that got brought up because of it.  He started to drink that Ogden’s a little bit faster. 

It appeared it was necessary. 

Conversation was turning a dark corner – well, not exactly the darkest corner, but one that was almost always avoided in favor of talk of sports or something of a like nature.  Women were difficult to understand.  There was no way to get around that point.  They seldom wanted what they said they wanted and even when they did; it was typically a ridiculous request.  In the past, he had that problem more than he could even consider, having to deal with women like Claudia – now he had the opposite problem. 

His current girlfriend – were they even using that term?  He couldn’t really decipher what he would classify them as, just as that it was better than it was before.  Perhaps girlfriend was an unfair and loaded word.  Whatever she was, she was surely one that didn’t talk at all.  She was not following him around like a puppy and barking at him to do things, in fact, he was the one who usually had to say something – and even at that, was usually denied. 

Seemed that Adon had a tail though, and one that was persistent without a place.  Well, that was probably part of the problem.  Raising his glass to his lips again, Archer sighed.  “I think the whole nothing decided definitively business is your problem,” he asserted first and foremost.  “Women like to know things.  And currently, your ex has no idea where she is.  It’s a problem.” 

“You have a decision to make.  Disappear, or keep her around – just give the girl something solid, they like that,” was his simple answer to that part of the problem.  If she was dogging him, it was probably because she was worried he was cheating on her – women only assumed they were being cheated on if they perceived a relationship.  Cut the tie, lose the string. 

Shrugging at the second question (he counted the first part as something of a question – it seemed like one, anyway.  The question of Joel’s profession was a less interesting one.  “He researches Fireballs with a group in the Chinese mountains.  Nothing illegal, just dangerous.  One of the non-Chinese researchers was killed, insurance and liability issues, if I’m mistaken.  That’s why they all got sent home – until the business is sorted out.” 

Adon watched the man down the Ogden's and cracked a bit of a smile. Something seemed rotten in the state of -- dating chaos. He wasn't telling, and Adon shifted his shoulders slightly.

Perhaps, if he was going to be like that, opening up had not been the wisest decision. Taciturn at best when it came to Ray, he seemed more than willing to advise.

"Well," he said with a shrug, "maybe." Adon didn't know where he was, to be frank. If she'd let him, he'd have married the girl. But she hadn't; she couldn't have with their family differences, so he'd walked. And when he left for London, that had been the end, even with continuing feelings. Because it couldn't work and there was no sense in it. Besides. The more brash she got in her letters, the more likely her family was to notice. A hazard to both of them.

He nodded to Archer's simple(ton) answer. It made it sound as though Archer truly believed it to be that easy. Archer'd never had the trouble of underestimating a problem before. Pretending to do so now was selling himself short. "Yeah," he agreed, because that would stop the talking. It wouldn't be the first time Adon'd regret opening his mouth about something.

"So Joel's only here temporarily, then," Adon reaffirmed. Which brought to mind his own predicament. Was he here temporarily? He looked at the wireless which announced the game would start in three minutes; Moloch, only two minutes had passed? He looked at Archer. He'd started conversation last time. It was his turn now.

“Who knows?  He’s been talking about maybe writing a book or something, I have no idea.  He really doesn’t tell me much about what he’s doing,” Archer laughed a bit, “I think he thinks if he did I would tell him to find his own place.”  He chuckled and shook his head, tackling the issue of Joel first and foremost, since there wasn’t much to say about the whole thing – it was his brother, he was going to let him stay with him, he wasn’t around much anyway – whatever he was doing – and when he was, at least he was amusing. 

What really concerned him was how his prior advice seemed to go over (or, more precisely failed completely).  It did not appear that Adon appreciated Archer’s answer to his problem.  If he did, he would have been more willing to speak on, to go at length about what was different from what had happened and what Archer suggested, but the one word answers did not sit well with the seasoned Auror.  He could tell that the young man was not interested in so simple a solution, or perhaps he had tried it, or he just wasn’t satisfied. 

Heaving a sigh, Archer shifted in his arm chair and was glad he had another drink by the side of the recliner or he was going to have to attend to that first.  Conversations like this should never happen completely sober and Archer was making great strides toward the land of the happily intoxicated.  “Should have figured you’d see through the flobberworm pus,” Archer shrugged, taking a drink.  “I figured I would give you something at least somewhat constructive,” which was truthful. 

“I honestly don’t really know what would fix that situation.  I mean, look at Ray and me, for example.  I forced her to sit down and have the conversation, we finally resolved what we were going to try to do and even after work, it’s like pulling teeth to get anything out of the woman.  I have never had to basically beg for whatever bone she decides to throw me.”  He shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably, shoving a few crisps in his mouth to give him a second to think, he chewed – and chewed – sighing as he finally let himself swallow and take a drink. 

“I know that’s not very helpful, but you’re not alone,” he offered, trying to make it at least a somewhat even playing field and let Adon know he wasn’t just an idiot, merely another man who had just as much of a clue as he did. 

“I think he thinks if he did I would tell him to find his own place.” 

Adon thought about this comment in silence for, perhaps, longer than he should have. When Adon had lived in Jerusalem and Dreogan had visited, they'd shared a place, Dreogan crashing on a futon in the front room. Yet when Adon had moved to London, he'd gotten his own place. He was trying to remember whose idea it had been, initially. Considering the state of their relationship at present, remembering who had first said what seemed critical.

He believed it had been his own idea. Perhaps Dreogan had not taken that well. But perhaps they would have ripped apart sooner, sharing quarters.

Archer must have thought this silence attributable to romantic musings (or broodings?), because his next words -- “Should have figured you’d see through the flobberworm pus" -- made Adon crack a smile just a bit.

"Smelt like bubotuber pus, actually," Adon corrected over his bottle before sloshing the last bit into his mouth and setting the bottle down onto the coffee table at his feet with a soft clink. "I appreciate any solutions you're looking for. The problem is that we're at an impasse. We love each other and all -- I don't really question that. But we were never able to acknowledge our relationship. First at work because of, well, you know how it can change a dynamic. But I would have rathered be open about it. But her family would never have -- well, I'm Israeli. And that would never have worked," he finished. "So, I put up with two years of tiptoeing and just looked out at a whole field and . . . know what I saw? A whole plain laid ahead of me, covered with eggshells. As far as the eye could see. And I couldn't do it. Assignment came to London, and it seemed as good a time as any."

He shrugged heavily and hung his head back over the couch, looking up at the ceiling. "Your situation with 'Ray' doesn't sound . . . throwing bones . . . It's not really all that bad is it?" Adon attempted to lift his head, to glance at his friend, but it felt a bit weighted just now and so he instead swivelled it to the side, craning his neck so he might catch a side-long view. You are getting something out of this, right? Mind me asking what it is?"

“That bad?” Archer laughed, glad to at least see Adon in better spirit once Archer admitted that he didn’t really know what he was talking about – or at least had no basis for saying so.  It was apparent, however, that there was something else going on that Archer didn’t really understand from the first part of the story.  He didn’t remember Adon actually mentioning love did not enter the equation at first, nor did he remember the whole forbidden romance part. 

He supposed that made things a little more difficult – well of course it did.  It was what stood in the way of Archer and Tamis for a long time, really.  They had not been smart enough or willing enough to break the barrier as boss and employee as well as try to jump the hurdles of baggage for both of them until this point.  It appeared they were not the only ones, and with the cultural ties involved on Adon and this Thea-girl’s relationship, it seemed almost doomed from the start, but Adon had let her in anyway, and now they were walking on some complicated and bumpy ground. 

“I think that tells you something though, getting the offer and jumping on it.  I know it seems difficult, but sometimes, what you did can tell you about what you want to do.”  That seemed like an intelligent answer, at least as intelligent as it was going to get.  He took the rest of the Ogden’s down in a fell swoop and sighed, putting the bottle on the floor, trading it with the next.  After this, he promised himself he would slow down (it was so unfortunate, getting older and having to slow down a bit).  When he was Adon’s age, he could have put down four of these before feeling much of anything – even comparing himself to the younger auror almost hurt. 

He shrugged his heavy shoulders though, as he popped off the cap.  “Oh, I mean, it’s not horrible, if it was that bad, I wouldn’t have even tried in the first place. But she’s… it’s been a while, for lack of a better way to put it.”  He didn’t know how much to divulge, how much Ray would kill him for, but he felt like it explained part of the problem.  “Her fiancé died – it explains how she is, really.  She has her moments where things are great, but sometimes, I think she backtracks because of that.  I don’t want to touch it yet though – tough subject, you know.” 

It was time for another drink and Archer obliged his suddenly very parched lips.  He felt badly, discussing her dirty laundry, but it was anything anyone could find in archives, so he figured it was the bare bones of the issue.  “I worked with him – he was a newbie – it’s a bit of a wrench.” 

“I think that tells you something though, getting the offer and jumping on it.  I know it seems difficult, but sometimes, what you did can tell you about what you want to do.” 

"Yeh, I suppose," Adon responded automatically before another swig of Ogden's before stopping mid-act. "I mean, no. It doesn't. I know what I want to do. I'd known that for, well, almost a year. I'd marry her, y'know? So. Sometimes when it won't work, you step away. Wants aside. And it wasn't . . ." he faded a moment, rubbing the back of his neck -- a habit he'd recently acquired from his brother -- "you know, easy. Like jumping. I fought my way out there. It felt kinda like escaping from that damned arrow-port -- throwing elbows, dodging things. Happy to get out of that one, though. That was just what I wanted."

Rambling, Eleor. Rambling.

He turned his attention to Archer's concerns, wetting his lips with the rim of his bottle a moment, just breathing  into it and listening. He took a sip before he spoke, the huskiness in his voice the result of the drink. "Death -- yes, it's the untouchable subject, I think. We don't -- I think, sometimes, I'm the only one in my whole crazy family that will accept it. Talk about it. But yes. Others don't seem to . . . you've got to be sensitive about it, though, brother. I mean, your brother's co-worker. You've got to be aware of those sorts of things and how others hear it, however it feels to you."

He puffed some air from his cheeks. "At least, that's probably what my brother would say -- with his inter-personal peptalks and such."

Adon disregarded at the moment, but filed away, the information of a greenie-death. Perhaps that was why, three years and five-months into the business and six years prior vocational experience, he was still being held back and reported on. A lot of cloak and dagger. Likely a lot of protectiveness. It was something his brother would do.

Which made him wonder --

"You talk to my brother much still? You guys are close, yeh?"

So, Adon had been serious about this girl.  More serious than Archer had ever been about a woman before.  He supposed the most serious he got was with Ray, and that was in another sphere of life completely.  There had never been love involved.  It was a pact, to be sure, and one they fought over and things got strained, but it had never escalated to the point of marriage – it was a professional relationship.  And then, personally, he had been involved in Claudia, and that had been a large chunk of his adult life, but to marry her would have been a one-way ticket to St. Mungo’s.  She would have driven him to the Janus Thickey ward faster than a badly performed confundus charm. 

He nodded, unsure of where to go with that.  “I can’t say I’ve ever been in the same – or even similar situation,” he noted, just to preface, “so if my advice is bad, it’s from a lack of experience.”  It seemed odd to be telling someone almost a decade younger than himself that he was less experienced, but Archer had never really focused on that part of his life.  Marriage to him was a joke about his job, something he avoided talking about with his mother, and didn’t even bring up with his brothers.  Sighing, Archer took another sip of Ogden’s.  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, though.” 

That was honest, at least, and felt stupid – he could come up with nothing.  “The divide is really that bad, eh?” he asked, out of curiosity and almost disbelief.  He had read about it, of course, the problems in Israel, and Dreogan had spoke about it once or twice – well, he supposed he could believe it, he did grow up with latent blood purity issues – but… he never really understood it.  It had to do with upbringing he guessed, and even he dealt with it with that stupid elf, Squeak, and some of Ray’s more latent attributes –though he could not call her a purist in any sense, sometimes she showed hints of that upbringing, no matter how short it was. 

He supposed Adon was right though, he was a bit desensitized, and he applied the same reaction to every person’s death – regardless if it was work related or not.  It was a bit of a protective layer, he had to admit, but – well, Archer shook his head and laughed a little at the comparison.  “A little less lofty and intellectual – but the essence is there,” Archer agreed, “the difference being I can actually understand what you’re saying,” he added with another laugh.  Dreogan probably had some insightful and wonderful things to say a lot of the time, but Merlin help Archer with a decoding charm that could have let him know what the hell he was talking about. 

Nodding, Archer took another sip.  “Yeh, we’ve both been busy lately, but I try to stop by.  I talked him not too long ago, trying to see if he had any leads.  No such luck.”  He shrugged, unsure of what answer he was supposed to give to that and glanced at the wireless, the game was just going to be starting.  “Have you seen much of him lately?  I’d figure you’d be first to know – work and the girl are consuming a lot of his time.” 

" “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, though.”

No judgment, no suggestions. The "haven't you tried --? you ought to have seen --?" he had heard before from family and friends. Just sympathy. Adon gave a sad sort of a smile and nodded. "Thanks," he added. As Archer questioned the divide, he pursed his lips in thought.

"Well, yes and no. It's not that Romeo thing you keep teasing about," he said. "But her family wouldn't have supported it. Especially since we'd been a clandestine couple for some time. . . and there are, of course, some legal barriers to the marriage. . ." He wondered if Archer had kept up on more than international magical law. To call it Muggle law was a misnomer. All citizens -- magical, Muggle, or otherwise -- were made answerable to the country's laws. It was this way in Israel as it was in almost every country.

"Israeli Arabs, Palestinians," he clarified, "are not allowed to live in Israel if they are married to an Israeli. Any other nationality or ethnicity, and marriage wins them citizenship. Not exile from their native land." The words were said with no little bitterness and a certain sort of pent-up aggression caused him to shift in his seat as he spoke. "Well. Just goes to show that no where is Zion."

Perhaps the most condemning words about his own government.

"Had we married, we would have moved here. She did not want to leave her family or her job, however. She was happy there. Is." He had to remind himself that she wasn't dead simply for the lack of being in his life. "But anyways. That's how it works. Everyone's afraid of ripping out foundation stones, even if they're crooked." He raised an eyebrow, surveying Archer's response to his last line. "There. That loftier and intellectual-er?" he asked. "I can't be outdone, you know." He smiled somewhat more easily. Nothing really more to be said about Thea.

"At any rate, I guess I'll see where it goes with that singer or," he shrugged, tossing his feet up onto the table nonchalantly, "some other girl. There's this girl at Reducto Records I wouldn't mind getting to know, either."

To hear that Archer had been often talking to Dreogan made him wonder, perhaps, if Dreogan was trying (and, rachamana litzlan*, actually succeeding) to keep Adon safe and in the office, to interfere in his affairs -- even as a protective older brother, he would get quite a telling later.

“Have you seen much of him lately?  I’d figure you’d be first to know – work and the girl are consuming a lot of his time.”

There was a tight burning in the pit of Adon's stomach as Archer said this. "First to know what?" he asked, concerned and a bit breathless. He hadn't heard. He didn't know. He swallowed, then, looking at the Ogden's, swallowed that as well, finishing it off and once more resting it on the coffee table.

The match was now on, pouring out of the speaker and Adon turned his head toward it. "Ah. Game's started," he muttered, though that much went without saying.

*God forbid.