It was, honestly, something that Archer did not understand.  They were all people, regardless of religious affiliation, but sometimes that was more than what it appeared to be.  Though Archer’s mother was a fairly devout Anglican, the rest of the family did not share her enthusiasm for service.  He did not understand how they could not live in the country because of such a different – perhaps the Ogden’s was really getting to him!  It was just hard to imagine.  It made sense, but it was hard to imagine, really. 

He knew enough about the world around him to know that things were not exactly chummy between the groups in Israel, and he supposed it could make a certain amount of sense to deny such rights to Palestinians, but when it inhibited so much, it was difficult to accept as the way of the world.  He wasn’t going to go charge the government on his friend’s behalf, but really, it wasn’t exactly what he wanted to see Adon going through.  “Frustrating, I can imagine,” he offered, though it was not nearly enough, “and unfortunate that policy should stand in the way,” that he could identify with.  He felt like sometimes the only thing holding himself and Ray back was the fact she was his superior. 

Well, by title anyhow.  He was an auror beyond her years and experience was higher, but it was what it was.  He leveled his own thoughts with Adon’s – the, what he thought was, a metaphor not missed on him.  He gave a lopsided smile and shook his head.  “I can still understand it – though, better than before.  Start talking about some six thousand year old wall and its foundation, you might sound just like him.”  He did not mean to be critical of his brother in any way, in fact, Archer had nothing but profound respect for Dreogan and his work – he was just a bit… bookish about it at times.  Archer preferred comparisons that were commonplace and understandable; Dreogan was one for obscure references. 

“Another girl?” Archer’s eyebrows raised higher, “which one is this?” he hadn’t remembered the young auror mentioning another girl at any point, though he supposed at his age, it was customary to have one waiting on the sidelines if the other didn’t work out. 

Of course, he shrugged his shoulders at Adon’s question – having not meant it was a specific question, more of a general observation and question of his well-being.  “Anything, really,” Archer amended, “I haven’t heard from him in a bit.  I figured he would go to you first if anything was up.”  This was Archer’s observation of the whole thing – he didn’t really know their personal lives that well, apparently, since Adon seemed at a loss as well.  “Has he not had the chance to talk to you recently either?” he asked – curiosity was the auror’s weakness. 

He almost wasn’t interested in the game – operative being almost – and turned half toward the radio, and half toward Adon.  Now he was very interested - and the game had only just begun.  Thankfully, it was only against the Cannons - though he would need the fodder for burning up Eddie at work the next day... Still, some matters did seem quite pressing.

“Frustrating, I can imagine,” Archer conceded, and it felt a bit like concession, but Adon also understood from it that despite its paltry palliative nature, Archer was trying to understand and reach out.

"Yeh," he said, ringing in the one-syllable responses once more.  "He seems to do that," he added. "If you'd've known my father, you'd think him accessible. But I guess that's why my father was in the textbooks. Gotta make things more difficult for students than they need to be. It's a mental exercise."

"The girl is named Matilda Quinn. You can stalk all you like. Paparazzi's got nothing on this one, apparently. And we've got nothing. Just friendly discussion when I visit her shop. Reducto Records. I've not . . . done anything about it, because she's  teased me about helping her publicity with that whole Trina thing. I might have asked then if there was any relation -- they've got the same last name, you know. But that's pretty much an invitation for the two of them to get together and discuss. At any rate, if they do know each other -- I don't want to seem disingenuous."Adon wanted to be considered a playboy by the men -- it helped a man's sense of machismo -- but never with the women. It was, simply, a bad PR move.

"If I'd've met her first . . . I dunno." He shrugged and gave a lopsided smile. "They're a mystery. I think our little diplomat friend still struggles with it, too, even, despite his people-skills. Which leads me to believe that governing a heart's more complicated than a country. Or something." Mmm. Probably trying too hard with that one.

Adon suspected some of the relief in hearing all was well -- or at least not known to be otherwise -- with Dreogan was apparent in his features as he eased back into the sofa and tilted his chin upward. "I think he's been caught up in things. His work, relationship, writing. You know," he dismissed. "We keep in touch, but we just do our own thing," he responded glibly. "I appreciate your condescention in hanging out with a single man like me tonight, by the way. What is the Raydar up to tonight?" He grinned cheekily at this. His nickname for Tamis hadn't gotten much usage -- he'd not been comfortable using it in the actual office. He'd used it with Dreogan and had gotten a chuckle. But he was curious to see just what Archer might think of it.

Archer listened as Adon began to talk about this other woman.  He seemed interested in her as he spoke more about her than Trina, though not more than about Thea (he supposed that had to do with the seriousness of the subject), but he seemed genuinely intrigued.  It did put a slight damper on the fact that there was a possible relation between the singer and the owner of the shop.  They seemed to have similar enough professions that perhaps it was a family trait.  He did not share this thought, Adon had probably already come up with it – he was a sharp guy, Archer noticed. 

Brains were not lacking in the Eleor family and though Adon was more accessible than his brother, one could see that he was as intelligent, perhaps more-so, in some ways.  He was not about to tell him this, as it would only feed his ego.  Of course, it was necessary for an Auror to have a slightly elevated ego.  To walk into any situation with excessive doubt and lack of confidence was almost asking to sign your own death certificate.  “It gets complicated when two women know you have contact with both of them,” he said with the heavy hand of experience on his shoulder. 

“When I was with Claudia – you know, the minister’s aide who dresses like she belongs on the cover of a magazine, not the home and garden variety either – well…” he shook his head, “she was horribly jealous.  Even just working with a woman rouses those kinds of feelings.  I can’t even imagine directly asking about the other.”  He supposed the situation was slightly different, but he knew what it was like to have two women who were connected to one another hate one another because of something so stupid.  Well, he never thought Ray hated her, really, it was one-sided, but could have escalated if Claudia ever followed through with her empty threats. 

“Writing, eh?” this did not surprise Archer, Dree was probably an academic at heart.  He couldn’t sit down long enough to write anything intelligible, but power to those that could.  “You don’t sound so happy about it,” he prodded slightly, noting the young man’s willingness, even eagerness to change the subject and dismiss the fact they had not been in constant contact – or even close, really.  Kept in touch meant they might have talked like once a week.  They worked in the same building! 

It happened though, he supposed.  It seemed like drifting away from people was also an inherent part of law enforcement.  By the end of his relationship with Claudia, it was as though he was only hanging around out of obligation and a free, easy, and safe stress reliever with a gorgeous face.  It was hard to deny that Claudia was a stunner, but behind that pretty face was a deeply troubled and insecure mind that he could just not deal with.  Ray suited him far better at this point, and he outright laughed when Adon referred to her as ‘Raydar.’ 

“Clever,” he started, still laughing a bit, “but, to be honest, I have no idea. “  He shrugged, “Don’t really worry about keeping tabs on her,” he snorted and took a liberal sip of the Ogden’s.  "She refuses to listen to Puddlemere games," he rolled his eyes, "Something about those magpies.  I don't get it," he shrugged haphazardly and took a handful of crisps.  "Their players aren't anything special.  I'd go Tornadoes over Magpies any day - and that's a leap."

"Wo- hey, hey, hey!" Adon interrupted Archer's no doubt philosophical vignette about Claudia. "You dated her?" His smile grew crooked. "What's she like?" he asked, leaning in a bit, waiting for the mysteries to be revealed.

He waved aside the mention of writing. "Yeh, he likes to write. He picked it up at Laevenstrome." He shrugged. Archer was prying -- he clearly thought there was a story there. And he'd be right. But he didn't need to know that. "It's his own affair. He's been busy doing that instead of socialising, I think. I don't like how caught up in it it makes him. Myopic. Ah. . . you know, short-sighted," he caught himself. He'd been talking to Dree too much if words like that were pouring out. And here was Archer, worried they were talking too little.

He smiled broadly at the response to the nickname. The approval of Archer, the significant other receiving the brunt of the joke -- not to mention a wit in the office -- was flattering and promising that it wouldn't be taken wrong. "Alright. So she's as closed a book to you as the rest of us." He shook his head. "Though she thinks she's a lot more closed -- or me less observant -- than she ought to. You can tell her, if you like, that I know she and Deen have regular meetings to discuss my progress. I don't know why it's secret and I'd tell her myself but she seems to flit away whenever I try to have it come up." He shook his head. "You know, in my off-- my old office -- things like that were open and official. And you knew where you stood. If only women could be like that, you know? Still. A little mystery now and again isn't a bad thing. . ." He returned to his pose of breathless anticipation. "So Claudia. . ."

Archer couldn’t really understand the reasoning for the laws that restricted people’s rights to do what they wanted in their personal lives.  Well, he supposed her understood some of the reasoning behind it – trying to keep people from doing things that were potentially dangerous, but with people like Adon, he just couldn’t see a reason to have restrictions as strict as all that.  Granted, it wasn’t only the law that stood in their way, but still, for the most part, it didn’t make sense to him. 

Apparently it didn’t make sense to Adon either, who did not shield Archer from any of his anger over the issue.  He looked uncomfortable, upset, and soldiered on through the problem, verbally expressing the issues he was clearly frustrated with for some time.  Archer didn’t really know what to say – he didn’t know much about international law or legal procedures, perhaps out of ignorance or simply the lack of need-to-know knowledge.  Archer operated strictly in the UK; he had little need to know about marriage laws in Israel.  He did feel like it could have helped drastically in this conversation, however. 

He tried to soften his bitterness with a twinge of humor, however drab it was, and when he looked at Archer, all the man could do was shrug his shoulders.  “You’re still more accessible than your brother,” he noted with a bit of laugh.  “But I know what you mean.  Ripping up foundation isn’t easy, nor is it clean, Houdini. I hate to say it, but sometimes just being in love probably isn’t enough to keep the boat sailing,” he chuckled awkwardly, “Trying to keep up with you on the metaphors, y’see.” 

He was glad to see the subject change a bit and he nodded slowly at his assessment.  “It’s the best policy – wait and see,” Archer abided by that in most things in his life.  He had one promised engagement every year, and only one as long as he was around to make it.  Christmas with his folks was the only promise he could consistently make – seemed sad, but it was true, he didn’t plan anything else more than a week ahead, and even then that was a stretch for a man who stayed glued to the window, waiting for the next owl to come flying in or house elf bearing a summons to the office.  It was a way of life, one got used to it. 

He raised his eyebrows at Adon and shrugged again – seemed to be doing a lot of that in this conversation.  He really didn’t know shite about anything.  “Anything,” Archer responded blandly, “unless something’s up and that’s why you shot up straighter than a flagpole.  Something up?” he asked curiously.  He didn’t figure Adon would be acting like that if he knew what was going on in his brother’s life.  Maybe Dree was in some sort of trouble or they were fighting?  It seemed odd. 

He didn’t want to pry too much, especially now that the game started.  He trained one ear on the radio and nodded, placing the finished Ogden’s on the ground for the time being.  The handful of crisps would distract him from drinking for a few and he sat quietly, listening to his brother’s voice flow from the radio, smooth-talking like always.  He laughed slightly with a shake of his head.  “I have no idea where my brother got his gift of gab.”

"I hate to say it, but sometimes just being in love probably isn’t enough to keep the boat sailing,” he chuckled awkwardly, “Trying to keep up with you on the metaphors, y’see.” 

The graceful think would be to let him have this one. But Adon was a pedant with language. "I'm trying to see," Adon said, leaning back with his arms folded across his chest. "But what exactly is the relationship of love to the boat? Is it the wind? The sail? The ship -- sorry, boat -- itself? What is this figurative boat standing for?" He grinned crookedly, suspecting Archer didn't have an answer, but would give him at least this: "Just trying to keep up."

He returned to talk of Dree and Adon sighed and shook his head testily. "You ask a brother if he knows -- presumably a specific event or piece of information -- that he should be the first to know, and you give the impression that you're privvy to something he doesn't know." He looked levelly to Archer. "And I think you're right -- I would be the first one to know. I was just concerned something might have happened, is all." He shrugged.

“I have no idea where my brother got his gift of gab.”

"You," Adon said with a playful scowl and a finger jabbed in his direction, "could do with a bit more of it. Because you are getting distracted. Claudia. Do tell. She's single now, yeh?" Archer had done nothing to address Adon's comments about Raynor, either. But Adon actually preferred it that way. Retrospectively, he didn't want to appear underhanded in discussing his superior to her boyfriend.

Boyfriend. That was still odd to think about.

Archer did not really know what to say when Adon started grilling him.  He managed to follow some of the younger man’s argument, but wasn’t that just being a bit nitpicky?  Generally, Archer did not even try to keep up with fancy language or speaking in veiled terms – something the Eleor brothers were actually very good at and wanted to use at almost every single opportunity.   Clearly, Adon had no problem quizzing Archer on it – and the man had the most eloquent response he could come up with, a shrug of the shoulders and swig of beer. 

It said more than any words could have about Archer’s relationship with metaphors.  He was glad to leave it behind – sort of, it appeared in the world of Eleor, things were not going as well as planned.  Archer was well aware of that feeling – he and his brothers had drifted apart considerably since they were kids.  He guessed it was different when they were in the same place, but it wasn’t Archer’s place to pry, if Adon didn’t want him to. 

“Not to my knowledge,” he added, “no news is good news, at least that’s what I’ve always figured when it came to my brothers.”  A subversive piece of wisdom, generally not asked for – but far better than the next topic of conversation.   Archer’s lip curled and he rolled his eyes with an audible groan – Claudia was like this eternal thorn in his side, someone he would have rather shoved in front of the speeding Hogwarts Express than talked to ever again. 

Adon’s interest was slightly disturbing.  “She’s single, alright – belongs that way,” Archer clarified.  “Don’t even try it, Adon.  She’ll make you want to perform Houdini’s last trick, believe me.”  He shivered visibly.  "I highly advise against any interaction with her, unless you want to get the Dementor's kiss - only this one nags too."

At the shrug, Adon grinned. Victory. And yet, he yielded his compliment in being more accessible than his brother at that. "Well, at any rate," he said, watching Archer swallow his beer.

“Not to my knowledge,” he added, “no news is good news, at least that’s what I’ve always figured when it came to my brothers.”

"Exactly," Adon said, emphatically, surprised at how true this was. If the Eleors could only stay out of the news -- forever -- he'd be happy for it. But Dree, fool that he was, was trying to publish. He hoped he'd be discreet about it. At the very least, not the Prophet.

Adon gave a bright, unexpected burst of laughter at the description of Claudia. "God, Arch! You'd've thought she'd cuckolded you, with a vengeance like that!" He leaned in. "She didn't, did she?" He added, on the side, "Houdini's last trick -- the fatal one -- was to get punched in the abdomen when he had appendicitis, actually."

It was a surprise when Adon agreed with him.  Not that they did not see eye to eye on certain things, quite the contrary, but when in discussion that did not mean anything.  Both were strong personalities and did not enjoy being wrong or not being listened to.  Archer found it the most frustrating part of being paired with Ray as his professional partner – constantly locking horns over how to approach situations and people.  Granted, he usually won the arguments on how to deal with people – a sad fact, considering. 

There were some people Archer just couldn’t deal with though, and Adon had to bring up the one – the one woman that made him really just want to break a personal code of chivalry and straight up punch her in the jaw.  As much as he thought about it, it would only be that – a thought.  Archer Radley was not the type of man to hit a woman, at least not unless it was in a duel, and that was not the same thing – he would just think about it, and relish in the thought that she was currently miserable. 

Naturally, he had to rub it in again at some point, maybe when Ray was more comfortable with letting it be a public knowledge thing instead of a long-standing rumor.  It’d certainly make him happy.  Shaking his head, Archer sighed.  “Nah, not cuckolded,” he informed him, “just constantly accusing me of sleeping around.  Me! Of all people,” he waved his hand agitatedly, shaking his head.  Completely ridiculous. 

“Exceptionally insecure under all the designer robes and that make-up,” he snorted, recalling many of their confrontations simultaneously (they all looked the same at this point in his mind).  Each started with something he was supposed to do and didn’t, or something he said he would do and didn’t (he never claimed full innocence), but then she would start blaming his work – his partner – sometimes, he thought Claudia was the one who drove him toward her when she was trying to pull him away.  “I couldn’t step through the door without an argument at times.” 

He shook his head, "'I'd rather get punched in the stomach when my appendix was infected than have to sit through that again.  You'll do yourself a favor by avoiding her."  He leveled  a serious gaze at Adon, no jokes, "seriously - avoid the hag."

“Exceptionally insecure under all the designer robes and that make-up."

Considering the gag-reflex that Archer seemed to have with this bint, he didn't consider a quip about the rare opportunity to see underneath all those designer robes to be prudent. The thought, however, made him smirk. He hoped Archer didn't suspect the cause of it. Especially after discussing Archer's sleeping around . . . an . . . awkward concept.

Knowing the surest way to win camaraderie was to join in the haranguing, he added, "It's not surprising. She's likely unrecogniseable underneath the make-up anyhow. But, you know . . . when in Rome. . ."

And Archer was still going on about her. He'd never seen a man rant and rave so much. Positively hexed.

Holding his hands up in surrender, Adon laughed openly, a light, golden laugh as he shook his head. "Alright, alright! I'll leave Rome alone!" he chuckled to himself, looking around for some food now and settling on the crisps laying on the table his feet rested on. In a display of flexibility, Adon reached past his toes easily to grab the bag, popping a few into his mouth.

"So, Puddlemere's odds are good, I think," he transitioned, face growing pensive as he fell silent.

“Puddlemere doesn’t have odds,” a distinctly male voice called from the door as it shuffled open. There was a long pause in the threshold and the rattling of keys before one ‘thump’ hit the  floor outside the flat, and then another. This was followed shortly by a yelp and a series of curses as a large man danced into the living room, his bare feet making as brief contact with the floor as possible.

The Radley resemblance was almost immediate. Broad shoulders, impossible height, the dark attributes, and, if Joel could say so himself,  the dashing good looks – though he had more of those than Archie there. Poor sap. First born was always the ugliest that was why Hunter was so pretty. Joel was blessed with the ability to make the girls swoon without them questioning his sexual preference. Though, who didn’t question Hunter’s preference?

“They get funding from the ignorant chaps that bet against them.”  The dancing continued for several minutes, this time stationary, as his rather awkwardly large feet began to adjust to the cool temperature of the floor. London. No matter the temperature in the room, the floor always seemed to be colder. It was downright spiteful. “You need carpet,” he complained to the older brother.

It sounded like he had not missed too much of the game. He could hear Hunter’s voice prattling on over the wireless and it had not become too enthusiastic yet – not that it ever was not. But early in the game it tended to have that jovial façade to it, while as it got more involved he tended to get more aggressively involved. It was a good mile marker. Back in London for nearly twenty four hours now, Joel had gone off to do some exploring. Not much in the wizarding world ever seemed to change in the ways of land marks, but the people did. All of his old drinking and gaming buddies seemed to have moved on to make way for a new crowd. Not that he was going to let the Auror landlord know he had been scoping those out. He apparently was set on being a rent Death Eater, a point that he had made clear when Joel moved in… at three that morning.

Finally taking in the table and the two men lounging on the furniture, appeasing themselves to beer and snacks, Joel seemed completely oblivious that he had walked in on a rather heavy conversation as he reached for one of those aforementioned beers. His eyes locked on the curly haired unfamiliar one, but he addressed Archie.

“So, you going to introduce me, or is this the girl I’m not suppose to know about?”

“Puddlemere doesn’t have odds,” Adon heard a voice input, and he twisted in his seat on the sofa to look towards the door. Clever. Assured. He liked this Radley already. He gave a nod of recognition, smirking in unveiled amusement as Joel pranced about delicately from foot to foot. He still did not understand how the Radleys could be like that: dancing bears. That had always been his role.

“You need carpet,” the man -- no doubt Joel, as he was listening to Hunter -- quipped.

"Slippers," he called back, by way of suggestion as he pulled out a lighter from the pocket of his jacket, using the edge of it to flick the cap of the bottle off. It skittered somewhere across the hard wood floor, rolling. Ogden's needed better packaging. "You need carpet," Adon muttered to Archer as he rose to his feet to find the cap.

“So, you going to introduce me, or is this the girl I’m not suppose to know about?”

It was clever. And Adon appreciated it. But he wasn't going to be outdone. He smiled broadly, straightening and abandoning the bottlecap recovery attempt at the moment. "Oh! I'm so sorry," Adon said, leaning forward, extending his hand in order to gesture to Archer. "Joel Radley, this is your brother, Archer Radley. Though to clarify, he's never even been in the running for the Other Woman title. Can't find heels his size." He nodded to the coffee table at his feet, thudding his boots on it a bit for effect. The glass bottles atop it rattled and Adon smirked in satisfaction. "Also, there's beer. And arak."

The unmistakable feeling of someone entering a room – the sound of footfalls that attempted to be soft, but were betrayed by the sheer size of the person they carried were not uncommon to Archer and he sighed.  Since his brother had, in the most unceremonious way, showed up to his flat and basically moved himself in without so much as a letter or anything – completely inconsiderate, but then again, it wasn’t that surprising – he had been out of contact with most humanity for several years, dragons were not known for their manners, it seemed.

Rolling his eyes, Archer shifted in his seat – at least his brother had the sense to know Puddlemere was the team to root for.  He also had the lack of sense to mention gambling.  Archer snorted, “Ignorant chaps don’t only bet against Puddlemere,” he said pointedly, ready to jab at his brother under any circumstance.  He supposed he felt the most camaraderie with his middle brother, being the other manly one.  Hunter… well… he never really left the nest.  Archer and Joel rarely returned to it – it gave them something more in common. 

Of course, they did not have a lot in common, which was the reason for the disagreements every time he came home.  Archer wasn’t even sure he let the rest of the family know, not that he blamed them.  Though Archer could have taken a few days to readjust his life to better accommodate the return of the middle Radley – the most crude and clearly less attractive of all of them.  Just because he was a half of an inch taller, he was light years less good looking, no matter what the idiot thought.

He was also far less funny.  Scoffing, Archer pushed himself out of his chair – his brother knew the consequences of touching that chair – and Archer grabbed another beer.  Completely necessary, in every sense that a beer could ever be necessary.  He was glad he was a big man with a considerable muscle mass, or he might not have been fairing so well nor so coherently at this point.  Rolling his eyes at the two of them – it was like some switch had gone off and now they were two against one – and Archer was on the one side.  How in the hell did THAT happen? 

He glanced at the beer bottle, curious if he had missed something in the pursuit of more to drink.  Taking a swig, Archer rolled his shoulders.  “No, brother.  The woman you’re not suppose to know about is at least three times prettier, and a hell of a lot less annoying,” he shot a glance toward Adon.  He plopped back into his chair with a sigh and shook his head.  “This is Adon Eleor, thorn in my side and fellow auror.  Adon, this is Joel.  Dragon shite shoveled, if I remember right. Yeh, Joel?”