hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2005-05-23 12:01 pm
hackthis_archive) wrote2005-05-23 12:01 pm
Entry tags:
HP/O11 X-over - The Conversationalist
I think I'm having a bad day. The key word there right now is 'think' as it's perching on the fence and really could go either way, as could my mood. I'm not content, but I'm not miserable. I am feeling rather pissy though. Having the painters in does that to me. I have seen The Great Tragedy of Anakin and Obi-Wan Revenge of the Sith and my entire thought at the end was I totally want one of those komodo dragon horse thingys! I'll have to see it again to get a better handle. I was just so 'this is the last one evah!' that I couldn't focus properly.
I missed![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
qe2's birthday by about ten days; I suck. Happy Belated Birthday!!! In your honour I throw up some of my favourite party tunes: Har Mar Superstar! 'Power Lunch'; Gap Band 'You Dropped the Bomb on Me'; 50 Cent 'In da Club' and Gorillaz 'Feel Good Inc.'
I know I said I was going to write some SW RPS, but I opened Word and The Force just wasn't there. Strangely enough though, this was though.
About three months late I present this offering toethrosdemon. Don't doubt me, bitch, I told you I'd get here!
Harry Potter/Ocean's 11
Blaise Zabini/Rusty Ryan (mentions of, like, other people and shit)
Improv: chocolate, mist, crumble, pierce
The Conversationalist
1.
He doesn't like New York. Too many Muggles, too many Americans, too many American Muggles. It's easier to blend in here of course, which is obviously why he chose it, but there's something so garish and obvious about the city that it makes his head hurt. It's too much. They're too much with their grating accents and appalling fashion sense. He should have gone someplace less busy and bustling. Someplace where having a thought didn't require drowning out mobile phones and shouting people and construction. The construction alone makes his teeth ache. The foreignness of it all makes him tired.
He's always tired.
2.
He doesn't use his wand. He wants to, desperately, but he's exercising restraint. Bad things happen when people don't learn how to exercise restraint. Family structures crumble and shrill screams pierce the night. Blaise knows this.
He misses Draco all the same.
3.
His flat isn't his home, but it is where he lives. He's finally sorted out how to put on the kettle and make his own tea. The first time he tried he almost set the entire place on fire. He couldn't even use his wand to clean up the charred mess left behind. When the man across the hall came to inquire about the smell, Blaise refused to answer the door.
4.
He doesn't have a job. He has no means of income. He lives on the Galleons that his sister sends him from wherever she is. She doesn't tell and he doesn't ask, but her missives always arrive via brightly coloured birds with curved beaks. He longs for the day when he will get to see her again.
5.
When the landlord comes for the rent, Blaise gives him two Strudel Eraser Biscuits and goes back about his business. Biscuits that remove short-term memories don't require magic, and he hasn't paid rent since he moved in eight months ago. He hasn't had a proper conversation with anyone in almost three weeks. The Korean grocer on the corner doesn't count.
6.
When Blaise opens his mouth people inevitably stare, and then he's forced to stare right back. Americans are horribly rude and uncouth. It's as though they've never heard of tact and propriety and not bloody well staring. The used book shop he patronises is a safe haven of dust and dirt and books stacked to the ceiling with words and numbers. At least Muggle books don't talk back.
7.
There's a café he frequents in an upscale part of town. He doesn't know what the part of town is called; he doesn't care. He walks a lot just to not be in the flat and think about things. There are lots of things he could think about, if he wanted –- he simply chooses not to. Dwelling is bad. Zabinis don't dwell; they move on.
The war is over. This is life for now.
8.
He sits at the table in the corner, facing the door and the plate glass window. The same girl with blue paint around her eyes and the lime green mohair jumper takes his order every afternoon. Blaise simply points to what he wants, and she brings it over. One should never underestimate the healing properties of a small pot of tea, and he makes the tea last for exactly one hour and thirty-five minutes. That's exactly one hour and thirty minutes for the tea, and five minutes for the flashy American in the understated clothing and the black tattoo to come in for his afternoon coffee.
The American is very flashy. His teeth are too white and too straight. His hair is too darkly blonde and spiky. He's too stocky to be anything like Draco.
They never talk.
The American simply eyes Blaise, and Blaise eyes him back.
When the American takes his seat by the window, Blaise collects whatever book he's reading and leaves.
He can feel the American watching him long after he's walked away.
9.
He walks the streets on the nights that he can't sleep. It's not every night, but there are enough to make it a habit. The city is different at night, even louder and flashier than during the day. It's taken him some time to learn how to blend in with his surroundings. When he first arrived in America, bleeding and shocked and alone, he thought for certain he was done for. He thought everyone would notice the state he was in, but no one said anything. No one paid Blaise any mind. It was almost as though he were invisible. He learned that people only acknowledged him if he spoke, and so he doesn't really say anything.
10.
The American is 'Rusty'. Blaise only knows this because that's what the girl in the lime green jumper calls him. Every day when Rusty arrives the girl smiles and asks him if he wants a table for two. Rusty just smiles his perfectly white and toothy American smile. He says he's not expecting Danny today.
Blaise wonders if he looks like Danny; he wonders if that's why he can feel Rusty's stare on the nape of his neck as he leaves. He wonders if Draco is somewhere staring at some man and thinking he looks a little like Blaise.
11.
Draco's birthday is on a Wednesday this year. In celebration Blaise thinks about trying to find the wizarding part of Manhattan, and then he thinks better of it. When he goes to the café, he orders a pot of chocolate instead of his usual tea. The girl blinks, and when she brings the chocolate over there are two biscotti on a plate as well.
12.
Two days after Draco's twenty-third birthday, nine months and six days after Blaise came to America, three hundred and twelve days after Draco vanished into the mist and Harry Potter killed Voldemort, Lucius Malfoy and pretty much everyone within a three mile radius of Otterey St Catchpole, Blaise walks into his nameless upscale café in Manhattan, New York and finds an American named Rusty sitting at his favourite table.
He scowls as he sits down, but Rusty just smiles and motions for the girl with the green jumper to come over. "You look like you're waiting for someone," Rusty says, taking a bite of a large biscuit and wiping his mouth with a napkin. "You don't mind if I wait with you, do you?"
Blaise narrows his eyes. "Actually, yes, I do mind," he says.
Rusty's grin is blinding. "So, you do speak."
"Not to your kind."
Rusty doesn't seem fazed at all by Blaise's curt manner. In fact, he appears almost amused. The only person who Blaise couldn't manage to scare off with a glare is missing now, and Blaise can feel his nostrils flaring as Rusty leans across the table into his personal space.
"I'll tell you a secret," Rusty says conspiratorially. "This all goes a lot faster if you have someone to talk to while you're waiting for the other person to arrive."
-end-
Happy Belated Birthday,ethrosdemon -- you ungrateful, doubting trick.
Read-through and title by the Letter H.
Originally proposed bylalejandra but not in this version.
I missed
qe2's birthday by about ten days; I suck. Happy Belated Birthday!!! In your honour I throw up some of my favourite party tunes: Har Mar Superstar! 'Power Lunch'; Gap Band 'You Dropped the Bomb on Me'; 50 Cent 'In da Club' and Gorillaz 'Feel Good Inc.'I know I said I was going to write some SW RPS, but I opened Word and The Force just wasn't there. Strangely enough though, this was though.
About three months late I present this offering to
ethrosdemon. Don't doubt me, bitch, I told you I'd get here!Harry Potter/Ocean's 11
Blaise Zabini/Rusty Ryan (mentions of, like, other people and shit)
Improv: chocolate, mist, crumble, pierce
The Conversationalist
1.
He doesn't like New York. Too many Muggles, too many Americans, too many American Muggles. It's easier to blend in here of course, which is obviously why he chose it, but there's something so garish and obvious about the city that it makes his head hurt. It's too much. They're too much with their grating accents and appalling fashion sense. He should have gone someplace less busy and bustling. Someplace where having a thought didn't require drowning out mobile phones and shouting people and construction. The construction alone makes his teeth ache. The foreignness of it all makes him tired.
He's always tired.
2.
He doesn't use his wand. He wants to, desperately, but he's exercising restraint. Bad things happen when people don't learn how to exercise restraint. Family structures crumble and shrill screams pierce the night. Blaise knows this.
He misses Draco all the same.
3.
His flat isn't his home, but it is where he lives. He's finally sorted out how to put on the kettle and make his own tea. The first time he tried he almost set the entire place on fire. He couldn't even use his wand to clean up the charred mess left behind. When the man across the hall came to inquire about the smell, Blaise refused to answer the door.
4.
He doesn't have a job. He has no means of income. He lives on the Galleons that his sister sends him from wherever she is. She doesn't tell and he doesn't ask, but her missives always arrive via brightly coloured birds with curved beaks. He longs for the day when he will get to see her again.
5.
When the landlord comes for the rent, Blaise gives him two Strudel Eraser Biscuits and goes back about his business. Biscuits that remove short-term memories don't require magic, and he hasn't paid rent since he moved in eight months ago. He hasn't had a proper conversation with anyone in almost three weeks. The Korean grocer on the corner doesn't count.
6.
When Blaise opens his mouth people inevitably stare, and then he's forced to stare right back. Americans are horribly rude and uncouth. It's as though they've never heard of tact and propriety and not bloody well staring. The used book shop he patronises is a safe haven of dust and dirt and books stacked to the ceiling with words and numbers. At least Muggle books don't talk back.
7.
There's a café he frequents in an upscale part of town. He doesn't know what the part of town is called; he doesn't care. He walks a lot just to not be in the flat and think about things. There are lots of things he could think about, if he wanted –- he simply chooses not to. Dwelling is bad. Zabinis don't dwell; they move on.
The war is over. This is life for now.
8.
He sits at the table in the corner, facing the door and the plate glass window. The same girl with blue paint around her eyes and the lime green mohair jumper takes his order every afternoon. Blaise simply points to what he wants, and she brings it over. One should never underestimate the healing properties of a small pot of tea, and he makes the tea last for exactly one hour and thirty-five minutes. That's exactly one hour and thirty minutes for the tea, and five minutes for the flashy American in the understated clothing and the black tattoo to come in for his afternoon coffee.
The American is very flashy. His teeth are too white and too straight. His hair is too darkly blonde and spiky. He's too stocky to be anything like Draco.
They never talk.
The American simply eyes Blaise, and Blaise eyes him back.
When the American takes his seat by the window, Blaise collects whatever book he's reading and leaves.
He can feel the American watching him long after he's walked away.
9.
He walks the streets on the nights that he can't sleep. It's not every night, but there are enough to make it a habit. The city is different at night, even louder and flashier than during the day. It's taken him some time to learn how to blend in with his surroundings. When he first arrived in America, bleeding and shocked and alone, he thought for certain he was done for. He thought everyone would notice the state he was in, but no one said anything. No one paid Blaise any mind. It was almost as though he were invisible. He learned that people only acknowledged him if he spoke, and so he doesn't really say anything.
10.
The American is 'Rusty'. Blaise only knows this because that's what the girl in the lime green jumper calls him. Every day when Rusty arrives the girl smiles and asks him if he wants a table for two. Rusty just smiles his perfectly white and toothy American smile. He says he's not expecting Danny today.
Blaise wonders if he looks like Danny; he wonders if that's why he can feel Rusty's stare on the nape of his neck as he leaves. He wonders if Draco is somewhere staring at some man and thinking he looks a little like Blaise.
11.
Draco's birthday is on a Wednesday this year. In celebration Blaise thinks about trying to find the wizarding part of Manhattan, and then he thinks better of it. When he goes to the café, he orders a pot of chocolate instead of his usual tea. The girl blinks, and when she brings the chocolate over there are two biscotti on a plate as well.
12.
Two days after Draco's twenty-third birthday, nine months and six days after Blaise came to America, three hundred and twelve days after Draco vanished into the mist and Harry Potter killed Voldemort, Lucius Malfoy and pretty much everyone within a three mile radius of Otterey St Catchpole, Blaise walks into his nameless upscale café in Manhattan, New York and finds an American named Rusty sitting at his favourite table.
He scowls as he sits down, but Rusty just smiles and motions for the girl with the green jumper to come over. "You look like you're waiting for someone," Rusty says, taking a bite of a large biscuit and wiping his mouth with a napkin. "You don't mind if I wait with you, do you?"
Blaise narrows his eyes. "Actually, yes, I do mind," he says.
Rusty's grin is blinding. "So, you do speak."
"Not to your kind."
Rusty doesn't seem fazed at all by Blaise's curt manner. In fact, he appears almost amused. The only person who Blaise couldn't manage to scare off with a glare is missing now, and Blaise can feel his nostrils flaring as Rusty leans across the table into his personal space.
"I'll tell you a secret," Rusty says conspiratorially. "This all goes a lot faster if you have someone to talk to while you're waiting for the other person to arrive."
-end-
Happy Belated Birthday,
ethrosdemon -- you ungrateful, doubting trick.Read-through and title by the Letter H.
Originally proposed by
lalejandra but not in this version.
no subject
The morning after the night before, Rusty does a slight of hand trick involving a pea and three plastic cups. It only takes Blaise one attempt to figure out how the trick works, much to Rusty's chagrin.
no subject
But part of Blaise can't help but wonder if he'd like the man himself.