And it's so strange to leave a flower on a memory

Avery shrugged when Claire said that it wasn't too bad being back within the family. She knew it was true, but she couldn't help but feel that maybe Claire wasn't entirely happy with it herself. What even was a 'Bishop family,' anyway? Avery hadn't known the answer to that question for decades.

Claire's points were valid and everything, but her sister wasn't exactly in agreement with her. "I think that we both do. A lot. Otherwise you wouldn't be cursing and looking so uncomfortable. Otherwise you wouldn't still be sitting here, and I wouldn't be trying, however unsuccessfully, to tell you it's okay to be upset in front of me.

"But I guess we both lost that sense of comfort too long ago for it to change," she mused, turning to look down at her glass, tilting it to the side and watching the alcohol slip in that same direction. Her head listed in the same direction without her thinking about it, as though the drink was more powerful than her desire to prove that she could fight her grief.

She was tired of pretending like her relationships made any sense. Even the one she had experienced with Robin was strange, not half because neither of them were ready for it. Avery was hit with a sudden, desperate desire to remember what it sounded like when he said certain things, when he made fun of her, when he did anything ever. Perhaps Keiran would let her borrow the pensieve. She certainly wasn't about to go asking Millie about it, considering how much the woman hated her. Especially now.

"I wish that things had been different," she decided, not for the first time. "Maybe if we hadn't been so separated, I could've gone to you for help. Instead I sat here, waiting for Keiran to do something, asking Henry to look for him, and just wondering after him, Oliver and Jack. I should have found someone to help with Sophie, should've trusted mum more than I did. I've just had it in my head for so long that I'm on my own, so no matter how much digging around I did here, it would never have been enough to save him. I was right to try and find out the truth," she reminded herself as much as she tried to support her actions for her sister, "but I was never the brave one between the two of us. I half wonder what he would've done if it were the other way around."

She drew in a breath through her nose, pushing her drink away. "Oh well. There's no point in that, anymore. There's probably no point in me trying to explain myself, either, since I could've done better." Somewhere along the way, her tears had dried up, her tone had become nearly as lifeless as her eyes, and she had started leaning back against the chair again. "Maybe I'll just find a new house and move. I don't think his parents are selling the old one, so at least there's less of a time limit."

Avery was... sort of calling her out, showing that perspective that only a sister could have. Only a sister could cross certain lines, could ignore certain levels of propriety to try and keep both on an even keel. Claire couldn't help but think that, despite the two being raised almost completely separately, that they might always share something deeper than blonde hair (and taste in lovers of course). Just because they hadn't done the whispered secrets in the dead of night, hair-braiding and toe-painting didn't mean that there wouldn't be moments in their lives that were theirs alone as sisters.

Avery once again spun a tale of regret but Claire found it hard to chide her, for she shared the sentiment with Avery. Later, she would sense that loss - not just the loss of someone for whom she'd had strong feelings, but the loss of the opportunity to help, to be apart of his rescue, to maybe change the circumstances. She would remind herself of how unhelpful those feelings were, banish them away, but she could not help but share Avery's regret that the elder had not told the younger so she might help.

Claire almost laughed when she heard the Morrison (no, it was Dyllan again, wasn't it?) woman's name. Of course, she didn't show a change in expression, merely mused at the idea that the redhead always seemed to find adventure whenever it happened. Claire figured Jack would get on without Max fine enough - her true love was coming to the rescue anyway.

Claire grimaced a little as Avery tipped the characteristic of bravery towards Claire. Avery didn't know the half of it. She didn't know about espionage training, about weapons practice and sparring, about agreeing to gather a country's top secret information... But Avery could express herself, could grant herself permission to feel fully about something. Claire had not had that since Durmstrang, and even then she had felt some internal restraint. She would probably never find the words to explain it, but she would have willingly traded in some of her bravery for that ability.

Claire might have been brave, but Avery was free.

And one again, Claire felt that... weird feeling begin bubbling up within her, the sudden need to share information that she would be much better to withhold. (How was it she had been trained to withstand torture, but she could not keep these petty secrets quiet?) "There's a building next to mine that just opened up for rent. And an apartment in my own building that's been empty for some time. It's a nicer neighborhood, really spacey. If you ever wanted to look. And I could help out with Sophie. Better late than never."

Why not just invite her to move in? her internal monologue taunted.

When the thought had first come to her, Avery had actually intended to guilt herself into moving somewhere stupidly far away, and probably somewhere excessively dull. Somewhere that magic perhaps poked around in but did not suffocate the same way it did with London. There was no escaping it here, whether or not the Muggles had any idea that it was lingering in the air they breathed. In some city like Leeds or Manchester, or maybe even Edinburgh, she and Sophie could be farther away from the mayhem and the lingering history of her father's life.

But Claire's voice, while it drew Avery's gaze back to her sister, also gave a new potential. A new hope. It wasn't a bad idea, really. She was just surprised, a bit confused admittedly, but mostly pleased.

"I- yeah, I suppose so." Avery shrugged gently, tilting her head from side to side as she considered it. She wanted to show more enthusiasm than she was, if only because it was a sort of direction that she could take, which she had not felt she possessed for months. "I was going to move my things out of the old house at some point, so perhaps I can get Keiran to help me. Or someone who won't look at me funny when I have trouble going in. But that's a different matter entirely, I suppose," she decided, shaking her head.

"Maybe I'll go by the place at the end of the week. If you could send the address at some point, maybe, that would be helpful."

In the end, Avery wasn't quite sure what else there was to say. At least, not to her sister. Except, perhaps, "I think Sophie will be glad to see you. I worry she's been cooped up too long with just me and mum, now. She hasn't even been to see Keiran's kids after everything that happened. It could be really good for her to see a friendly face."