James was on cloud nine.  He was not flying as some might expect, but he was close enough.  He had finally been subbed in for the seeker who apparently thought bludgers were all the rage this season.  More importantly, he had caught the snitch, securing their victory over Wimbourne.  He was feeling pretty good, and hoping that he could at least stay in the starter position until the regular got back to full health.  Of course, James knew that one grab did not a career make, but it certainly did not hurt his prospects anyway.  James knew he would have to talk to the coach about giving him the go-ahead to start, but figured that it might be slightly impolitic to do it right after the game.  Especially with press everywhere and fans left and right.  He knew it was something he needed to talk about though, and preferably sooner than later. 

Since they had won, each of the winning team members went to a particular pub that was relatively closeby, and James drew Calveras.   He remembered his brief interaction with the proprietor and said he would stop by if he had the time.  While not bringing the entire team, he assumed that this would not hurt their relationship any.  He would have to talk to her sometime later as well.  Someone seemed to be reading his mind, since somebody shouted out above the bar,

“A Firewhiskey for James Forrester – may your seeking skills always ensure I win my bets!” someone called out.  James smirked a bit at the exclamation.  ‘Some people are too honest for their own good’ James though.  Before he could go too far down that train of thought though, a firewhiskey was whisked into his hand, and he waited for everyone to take a drink before he did.  James smiled.  It truly was a good day.  As he sat their chatting with congratulators and well wishers, James wondered if this was what Ian felt like.  As he made a fair amount of mindless platitudes and other small talk not worth mentioning, James smiled.  He wondered if this was why some people dreamed of becoming quidditch players. 

Though James knew it was somewhat true, James had a hard time believing that particular sentiment.  Whatever people may say about getting toasted and all that, he truly enjoyed flying more than anything else in the world.  Though that statement would surprise some people, especially those of the fairer sex, James loved flying more than anything else.  His thoughts were wandering, but James thought it was ironic that after finally catching the snitch, the first thing he wanted to do was get on a broom.  He wondered if he could set up a transatlantic race sometime.  A couple of well wishers brought him back to the present though.  ‘Day dreaming in a bar about how I would rather be flying – how ironic’ James thought to himself.  Still, relaxing after a long day of work was nice, so James was determined to enjoy himself in the mean time. 

Ari had been drawn to Calveras for a different reason altogether: the number of well-dressed patrons and the possibility that one of them might leave too drunk to remember how many galleons he'd spent.  He sat now, brooding into the beer he'd been nursing for at least an hour, waiting for the time of night when someone would be ejected from the establishment.  Eventually, someone was always ejected.

His ears perked up at the toast.  That name sounded familiar.  A Quidditch player, he supposed, but Ari didn't follow Quidditch so it must be something else.  He cudgeled his memory while he leaned back nonchalantly in his chair appearing to the world as if he hadn't a care.  Under cover of apathy, he scanned faces until he found the "birthday boy" so to speak--the man on the receiving end of the toast, enjoying a free firewhiskey.  Yeah, and I could get free drinks if I won him a bet too, he thought.  But what would he bet on?  How easy I am to beat in a duel?  How fast I cave when Daddy announces I'm cut off?  He brooded some more and then suddenly sat up, draining his stein of beer.

James Forrester.  He knew where he'd heard the name.

He motioned to the bartender for another, squandering the last of his sickles, and slid in opposite of James Forrester, scanning his face.  Nah-- he would never have recognized the boy in the man, if someone hadn't tipped him off.  After all, they'd barely met once or twice and Ari had been more interested in chasing skirts and proving he was a "man" than in welcoming a tagalong, a wannabe, just barely old enough to leave the kids' table.  Forrester was really after his time and yet...

The opportunity was priceless.  "Little Jimmy, well I'll be damned," he said, barring his teeth in a false grin.  "A Quidditch star now.  Credit to the family.  I always knew you'd turn out right."

He clapped the man's shoulder friendly-like and slid the drink the bartender delivered over in front of him, despite how it pained him to give up the last of his purse.  It was in a good cause.  Jimmy Forrester had been a gullible twit.  Of course, he's been what-- ten or eleven last Ari had seen him?  Probably all kids were gullible twits and probably Ari's memory of him was skewed by the teenaged mentality, but it was worth a try.  He couldn't keep on mugging folks here and there just for the money to drink, after all.  Eventually the folks at Bridge House would catch on.  If he played his cards right, his "famous Quidditch star" cousin might be the meal ticket he was looking for....

James was not surprised when another stranger pulled up a stool next to him and began chatting.  James had been expecting either idle chit chat or the necessary trash-talk that came with sports.  So he was certainly surprised when someone called him little jimmy of all things.  Though the gentleman’s next line about ‘being a credit to the family’ had him slightly incredulous.  As far as he knew, his parents never worried about that.  Then again, they only concerned themselves with William, happy to know they had a backup plan in-case of a completely intentional accident.  Still, James knew he did not disgrace the family.  He made it onto the quidditch team as a first year (though even James realized that was through bribery), and his father did not talk to him about popular pureblood opinions and manners.  James assumed his obsession with flight was respectable enough.

He knew practically every pureblood in the Isles were related to each other, and he thought he had seen Ari a while ago.  He remembered seeing the gentlemen at the Kabana meeting, but they had not spoken.  Though James did kind of run in those circles, his profile kept him from getting too far into whatever Cinaed was plotting.   All of the above mentioned facts strongly suggested that they were related, but James could not remember the man's name for the life of him.

"I think I remember seeing you at the Kabana meeting a while ago.  You should have dropped over and said hi...then again, that meeting did get sidetracked quickly if I recall," James thought aloud.  If this man was family, James should have seen him somewhere on the social calendar recently.  He thought about that for a second, and then realized that with a few exceptions, respectable people did not hang out with Tawse.  Coming to the conclusion that the man was a pureblood who fell on tough times recently, James slightly relaxed his posture.  He would naturally be suspicious of relatives appearing out of nowhere, but this man seemed to be making a little bit more sense to him.  He still did not know this gentleman’s name of all things, so he would be hard pressed to actually keep up a conversation for long.

Deciding he might as well ask (especially if he could get out of more pureblood parties), “So how did you escape the social calendar.  I’ve managed it down to a couple of events a year where I must attend, but I believe you have done far better than I.  You really must tell me how you did that, and still remain on everyone’s card list,” James asked his relative, assuming he would have a decent answer.  If not, James hoped that he could learn something from the names mentioned.  Or he could learn that the man was a fraud.  James did not think so, but James was naturally suspicious of anyone who crawled out of the wood work.  The gentlemen did not ask for money, so James was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.   

Ari was nonplussed for a moment when James mentioned seeing him at the Kabana.  Not that he would have recognized him then any more than now, but Ari had his own reasons for not fraternizing at that meeting: mainly, staying out of Azkaban.  Not only had it seemed to him to be a thinly-veiled attempt to rabble rouse the lower class into rising up against the Muggleborns, but it had nearly deteriorated to fisticuffs at at least one point during the evening.  All the free drinks in the world weren't worth going back to prison.

He colored, embarrassed that the man had placed him, but James wasn't finished.  It seemed he'd accepted Ari's claim to kinship readily enough, but now he wanted sordid details-- not just "how've you been," or "s'cuze me, do I know you?"

'So how did you escape the social calendar?'  If he remembered him--as he seemed to suggest--wouldn't he know?

"Ah..." Ari rubbed the back of his head nervously.  He wanted more than ever to prop his feet up on the table and lean back.  Instead, he threw his arm over the back of his chair and lifted his glass, eying James over the rim.  "It's not that hard to do, when your father disowns you and your balls belong to Aurors."  The former was, of course, an exaggeration.  Ari's father hadn't disowned him, he was simply embarrassed by him and prone to lectures which Ari had thus far avoided by avoiding his father.  Avoidance came with a price, however: his pride had cost him whatever assistance his father might offer along with his lectures.  His step mother had offered to help of course--but not only would Ari not take her money on the offchance that his father might discover it (launching a new lecture) but because in the beginning he had honestly wanted to make a go of it and prove he wasn't the screwup he knew he was.

The latter part of his statement was true enough: the Ministry had his eggs in a vice.  He couldn't leave Bridge House until he'd found permanent, gainful employment.  He couldn't find gainful employment as long as he was required to list Bridge House as his legal residence.

"You don't know who I am, do you?" he asked quietly, lowering his voice to sound both wistful and serious.  "Ari Rintala.  Sentenced to Azkaban in '98."  Then he broke into a delighted laugh.  "Framed, of course.  But then, weren't we all?"

"Ah.. It's not that hard to do, when your father disowns you and your balls belong to Aurors."

Of all the replies James expected to his queries, this was probably the last thing he expected.  While he had an idea of maybe just showing up to fewer events each year and writing to everyone or something similar, about the last thing he expected was an open proclamation of disownment.  Ari was not done shocking James yet, as he admitted he was sentenced to Azkaban over a decade ago. 

“I apologize, but I did not recognize you.  I did see your face at that meeting, but I must confess I did not know your name until you just gave it.  Still, now that I think about it…I think the last time we saw each other I had not yet gone off to Durmstrang.  Obviously, we have a lot to talk about…but I am not sure this is the best place for some of those conversations.  Still, it is always good to catch up,” James started.  He still needed to breathe between trains of thoughts, even if they did go off the tracks from time to time.

“You seem to be doing well for yourself, despite all of those unpleasantries.  As you can probably surmise, I play quidditch for a living.  Started in Drumstrang, got picked up in the third round, currently play as a reserve on the Tornadoes.  I seek or chase as needed, but you probably knew that.  The complete history of James Forrester in three sentences.  Your life…sounds far more interesting than mine,” James continued.  Once more, James’s train of thought was moving steadily along its tracks.

“Actually – with an introduction like that, I know it is.  So, tell me, what have you been up to?” James smiled, genuinely lighthearted and curious.  Though he knew tales involving Azkaban generally did not have happy endings, Ari seemed to be doing well enough.  Still, it surprised him that he even ran into his cousin after such a long time.  Coming to the conclusion that the world was a small place – and pureblooded Britain was even smaller, James decided to just relax for the time being.  After all, he was here to forget about responsibilities and the maddening crowd.  Catching up with not-so-lost relatives seemed to be as good a way to do that as anything, and it sounded like Rintala had a tale to tell.  Or maybe two.  Signaling to the bartender for another round, a firewhiskey and a beer slid across the bar.  Handing the beer to Ari, James relaxed a little bit.  He had the feeling that this story would be interesting, if nothing else.

Doing well for himself?  Ari tried not to stare.  What planet did this nutter live on?  What part of 'Azkaban' wasn't clear?  He knew he'd made a joke out of it, but still...

The man rambled on about quidditch and Ari tossed back his last swallow of beer, wondering how he could pluck a pigeon who considered years in prison 'more interesting' than playing quidditch professionally, even if he wasn't first string.

'...So, tell me, what have you been up to?' 

The bartender saved James a nasty response when he slid a beer toward Ari.  Ari just wasn't good at being oily, try as he might.  Lots of people told him that was the way to get ahead.  He'd watched one after another of his 'roommates' released from Bridge House and every one of them was on the take.  Problem was, Ari wore his heart on his sleeve and found it difficult to cover when he found a 'mark' distasteful.  Couldn't convince them he was genuine, if he couldn't hide his motive in speaking with them.

So it was possible that a spark of anger crossed Ari's eyes before he lifted the fresh beer to his lips.  He hadn't worked himself up to loathing, though.  Whatever he said, James was family and he couldn't shake the image of the gangling kid from his head.  So... he dispensed with pretense.

"Dark days, Jimmy," he admitted, wiping froth from his upper lip and setting the beer down, though he didn't let go of it.  "When an honest man can't get an honest day's work."  He considered working the 'family' angle in a different direction and suggesting (without quite lying) that he had someone to support besides himself.  He didn't, of course.  He barely had a girlfriend and though he'd like to buy her trinkets from time-to-time, it was all he could afford to owl her.

He shrugged.  "I'd settle for dishonest work.  Better than mugging muggles.  Unless you have an opening on your team."  He laughed at his own joke though it sounded a little hysterical.  He drained the glass and set it down again, this time with a sharp thud.  "I'd better get back.  Been nice seeing you."  The morose expression he'd worn daily since his release from Azkaban returned.  Wizarding Britain was, indeed, small.  The wardens wouldn't have far to look, if he skipped curfew.  Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley.  Of course, it was possible that he could disappear down Knockturn... but it, too, was small.  Better not to risk it, especially if he wanted to go on the straight and narrow, which would certainly please Eve.

Not for the first time, he wondered why exactly he was so interested in pleasing Eve.

He half-rose and held out his hand to James.  Obviously, he was developing a conscience.  Much as he needed a couple of galleons to rub together, he wouldn't try to fleece him.  Besides, James was happy and relaxed.  Celebrating.  He seemed to be having the sort of day Ari would kill for.  He decided he didn't want to ruin it...

When an honest man can't get an honest day's work.

James listened to his cousin.  James quickly realized that he had underestimated how well his cousin was doing.  James did have something Ari could do if he was looking for ‘dishonest work’, but decided that this place was not the location for those conversations.  If he wanted honest work though, James knew of a few things that the Tornadoes needed, though Ari would most likely prefer something else.  Seeming to be almost telepathic, Ari then mentioned something about dishonest work and if there was an opening on his team.

“Aye- had you contacted me sooner it would have been no problem.  If you had gotten a hold of me in December or early January, I probably could have gotten you a job somewhere in the front office.  If you are really looking for work though, I know we have positions open for vendors and hawkers,” James stated, wondering if his cousin would take those offerings.  James knew it was not much, but it was the best James could offer at this point.  Though he could mention that it was likely he would be quickly promoted to a bartender, James thought it was better not to get his cousin’s hopes too high.  Deciding that the offer would either be taken or left, James then thought about what his cousin had said.

Specifically, James was debating if he wanted to know all the sordid details Ari’s life.  Getting disowned and thrown in Azkaban were not usually good things.  He was probably better off not knowing, but if they were going to be seeing a bit more of each other James knew that he should learn more about his cousin.  Unfortunately for James, this bar was not the location for such a conversation.  He honestly had no desire to air his family’s dirty laundry at this locale.  For a variety of reasons, though mainly because it was too public.  James  had the distinct feeling that he and Ari needed to have one of those long conversations .  That conversation however, would have to wait.  Signaling the bartender for another beer, James handed his cousin a fresh mug. 

“Family is important.  Leave aside the unpleasant business for now, and at least tell me about your social life,” James asked his relative.  As he asked the question, James wondered if he needed to take courses on subterfuge.  His tone was about as subtle as a bludger rampaging through the stands, but James was fairly certain he got the point across.  After all, if there was one thing pureblood families did do, it was instill virtue on the importance of family.  Though James wished his parents had paid more attention to him growing up, he did know that his parents would help if he asked.