Aware and Amused

Kip didn't need anything for his broomstick. He had just recently read a lot on the history of broomsticks and could not help but go to Quality Quidditch Supplies in search of more answers. His first day in, he had met a young woman by the name of Cherie who had no passion for her job but no ambitions to get another. Though she had a tip jar that desperately needed filling, she had a nasty, rude mouth on her that was quick to deliver unnecessary, though clever, insults. Naturally, Kip could not get enough of her. He had come in every day for the past four days to ask her question upon question about broomsticks, very rarely getting any answer beyond 'I don't f*cking know, Kip. Are you going to actually buy something or can I go back to my magazine?!' When he would meekly say no, she would try to walk off, but he could not help but follow and ask about her magazine.

It wasn't that he did not realize she was unamused. He was very aware. He thoroughly enjoyed teasing this girl, for he saw it brought the best out of her. Difficult questions were given answers that she herself found on the fourth or fifth time he asked, the insults got more clever, and her grammar and vocabulary seemed to improve the more he prodded. 

In fact, Kip was certain she would thank him eventually. Or hit him. Maybe both. Probably both.

It was a chance he was willing to take.

Another question had been asked and another glare had been delivered. Kip leaned against the counter and Cherie, six years his junior, leaned in. "Look - I'll go check with my manager. Okay?"

"Okay!" he said brightly. She rolled her eyes and disappeared in the back, muttering something about idiots. Kip dropped a sickle into the tip jar and smiled with pleasure. He was proud of himself.

Darren actually despised Quidditch, contrary to the belief of any who might catch him entering the Diagon Alley store. Indeed, he didn’t see the point of sports, except perhaps for the athleticism that players accrued. The fact that Darren considered ambling into the store that likely had live matches and over-eager fans and players milling about was almost a miracle. The real reason he was heading in? He knew his friend – one of perhaps two or three true ones – would be there.

The mental thing that he was, Kip had taken up the hobby of annoying the local shop girl, and Darren had decided he wanted a seat for the show. If nothing else, he could pick up Kip’s ways. Sometimes, he had learned, the only way to get a reaction out of someone was to bother them until they said or did something unusual. On the same token, the only way to learn about someone sometimes was to draw a reaction from them. So Kip clearly had the figuring people out idea down. A few steps into the store, Darren’s frown was already obvious. Even still, he crossed to the counter, leaning against the top.

“So.” He started, the word sharp and short as it fell. “Where’d she get off to, then? I want to see her sass you.”

A friendly smirk made its way onto Darren’s face before he turned his gaze on the people around the shop. His eyes settled on a couple as they roamed about and gestured to things as they chatted. Although he tried to hide it, a judgmental expression rose. “And you wonder why I don’t shop,” he offered blandly, not bothering to wonder if Kip had ever even learned the fact about the Ravenclaw before speaking.

Kip could feel the approach of someone, but he dared not turn away in case it was one of the many that were so irritated with him – usually boyfriends of women such as Cherie who mistook his gentle teasing for flirting. Of course Kip was not flirting with Cherie. She was much younger than him, and though she had a pretty face, she lacked passion. If she had been passionate about anything, be it flowers or stars or television or slugs, he could see himself being intrigued by the prospect of elongated time with her. Thus far, though, her only passion was for her magazines, which he considered trash, and for closing time. And he believed too much in living to find work one enjoyed to be thrilled by that.

It was not Cherie’s boyfriend, nor anyone’s boyfriend – poor bugger. It was one of his dear friends, Darren Isaacson. Not one of his dearest, one of the ones that occupied his life like a tenant occupied a flat, but one of the many lengthy visitors to his life that rarely overstayed his welcome. It was a close friendship, yes. Besides, those that he whiled every night away with were more family than friend. Darren was special in that he was not faux family and yet he was given much of the same love. Kip was still boggled by the way people in this life affected each other. It was a study he needed to look more into, rather than just enjoy the effects of it.

Kip grinned. “She’s ’getting the manager.’ Which I have learned to be code for sitting in the break room, devouring a pastry, and finishing her ‘What Sort of Man Is For You’ quiz. I usually give her a few minutes, and then barge in, and then claim I was looking for the back storeroom, then I annoy her with more questions, which she in turn pretends not to have the answers to. It’s a wonderful, exquisite ritual. She’s falling for me.” The last sentence was the cheeky one, and he winked, to show it was the furthest from the truth. Even Kip could bend the truth for the sake of a joke – but rarely was this done.

“I may surprise her today,” he added, almost serious in demeanor, though he truly meant it. “I was thinking of leaving before she gets back. It adds to the intrigue. The mystery.” He grinned widely, horrendously proud of himself. He had better amend that lest hubris become his downfall.

He followed Darren’s eyes and he looked to his friend. Sometimes he forgot that Darren was younger, still in need of some learning. Kip smiled gently. “If you don’t appreciate what is common, you become less than it. You become yet another cynic who believes himself pitted against the world. You see two people discussing too lengthily over a broomstick, yes? You’re right. But I’m also right in calling them a couple very much in love discussing which broomstick will become their child’s first. Both of these are true, but which is more compassionate, and which is more interesting?” He ticked his head. The professor in him always seemed to come out.

A low chuckle left Darren's lips as he rested his elbows atop the counter, leaning against it more fully and sticking his legs out across the aisle. He knew full well that he could probably end up making someone trip and fall, but he actually found himself slightly amused at the possibility due to his near-addiction with getting people riled up.

He did indeed listen, slightly chastened at Kip's words, but found that his over-attention to detail had him at a potential advantage. Even as Kip spoke, Darren was watching the couple closely. Finally, he had to allow a small smile to break out on his face.

"A broomstick does not make for a city on a hill, my friend. I'll concede to your point about the children, since I heard that bit, too. But I will also point out that she woman is not wearing a ring, which could be conceived as troublesome. Hardly the grounds for a solid relationship, children or not. And thus, I direct you to my real point: Shopping, while boring as hell, is also not the activity upon which to base your relationship with someone. That girl will walk out of here convinced he's all for it, then three weeks later he realizes he doesn't want children, and didn't intend to propose. Then what?"

Darren ignored the confused looks from the couple in question as they caught him watching their movements, if only because moments later the woman had pointed out some other product and distracted the man. Sighing, he turned to look at Kip and await the challenge in return. Their interactions almost always left him feeling better than before they had met up. It probably had more to do with his desire to one-up the older man, but also had a bit to do with the fact that he came out of it feeling smarter for having learned something. Being challenged was always something he was open to.

"And, you know," he added belatedly, referring back to Kip's talk of intriguing the girl, "You could always leave me in your place. I'm sure that would confuse her a bit, considering I'd probably do the same thing you would do. other her until she reacts, that is. I could report my findings and you could have the day off."

If this woman was so interesting, Darren's mind suggested that she was likely also very attractive and thus had caught Kip's attention in the first place. Then again, he qualified for himself, the man was much like Darren in that looks weren't necessarily the thing that called to him first. Any oddities or curious personality traits would also do the trick. Whoever she was, she must have been vastly interesting, and Darren wouldn't turn down an opportunity to have a stab at garnering a reaction of some sort.

Kip smiled a bit as Darren was quick to the rebuttal – he always was. That was how it was with them, though. Kip had him bested on experience, but he had the gnawing suspicion that Darren was more stubborn and a bit more proud. He never went down without a fight. And Kip rarely did, true, but his fighting looked a lot like innocent learning. He was skilled in the art of getting someone to argue against themselves with simple questions and then posing the opposite truths they had insisted on so as to prove his own point. This often worked with Remy and Rory as well – it was only Yuri who seemed immune to it, mostly because he was even better at it then Kip was. Then again, that was how it was with most things for Yuri.

“To you, no,” Kip conceded. “But the happiness of the child that is half you and half the love of your life?” Not that either man would understand for, as far as Kip was aware, neither had been in love. If Kip did not believe in the psychology of the human condition to seek love as a means of survival (people lived longer if they loved) he would doubt his abilities to even enter into such a weakened emotional state. However, the odds of evolution were against him, so he was not completely adverse. Darren, however, was the more stubborn, the more proud, the fighter. It might take him longer but his fall was certain to be harder and much more jarring.

How Kip would enjoy taunting him when it came to that finally.

Kip scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t bore me, Darren. If you really prescribe to the archaic ideal of the family unit I will personally write to your school and request you be put into remedial classes. It’s an anachronism. It may make things easier, but it is no longer the only mode of child rearing. If you recall, some children from unconventional family units turn into respectable, intelligent, and perfectly handsome adults.” He smiled and indicated himself. “And not a seed on unhappiness from my mother in regards to my father. She claimed we were much better without him, and not for reasons of contempt or bitterness, mind you. You’ve met my mother, haven’t you? I’m an objective man, so I’m not going to say she’s the best mother there ever was. But the only mothers to best her were Goose and Teresa.”

The couple had looked at them, before moving on. Still, they chanced another glance and Kip waved, smiling warmly. He raised a hand to his mouth and cupped his lips, calling to them, “I’m on your side. Rooting for you. Congratulations!” They gave each other looks of confusion and concern and quickly ducked into another aisle distancing themselves from the strange men regarding them like scientists noting changes in the behavior of mice. Good fight or flight instincts. Who was to say their parental instincts would not be as quick, as up to par? He had said it mostly to be cheeky to Darren, but he found that his sincere interest in the well-being of his fellow species really meant it.

Kip smiled. “That may be in order one day. I could plant the seed that I’m a metamorphogus, with complete control over my vocal chords. She’s a skeptic so she wouldn’t want to believe it, but you’d be just as persistent as me. Ooh, Cherie, baby, you have a surprise coming.” He grinned. “We’d better duck out now before she sees you, or the plan is shot. We’ll spy from the window, though, see if her expression reveals any true affection for me.” He grinned.

“I have no interest in children or romance, Kip. You know this.” He pointed out regardless of the fact that it didn’t help or hinder either argument. It was more like Darren trying to evade the fact that he would inevitably concede to the elder and wiser of the two, and the fact that Kip probably saw it coming from a mile away.

“I am fully aware that not everyone follows that particular set of rules.” He replied, affronted and passing a disappointed frown at his friend. “I am merely trying to say that these two won’t. They walked in before me, if you didn’t notice. With all the glancing at other women I saw earlier, I wouldn’t hesitate to predict and unseemly and – on her part – painful downfall. The man, on the other hand, may end up rather like your mum, if he’s lucky.”

Darren rolled his eyes but did nothing to stop his friend, and made no comment to appease the uncomfortable-looking couple as they moved farther away. Instead, he looked up at the ceiling and feigned counting tiles as Kip replied. His haven’t been well and truly put to shame by his friend left Darren rather crestfallen, but he nodded and accompanied Kip outside, leaning against the building and facing a store across the way.

“Here,” he began, glancing at the passersby. “Now you can face me and we can pretend to be having a right chat while you keep an eye on your future subject of torture.”

A woman walking past shot him a disturbed and confused look, but said nothing. Darren just offered a tight-lipped smile and a nod in greeting, watching her until she turned back to her business, clutching her purse tighter. Sighing, Darren looked back at Kip and lifted an eyebrow.

“When you’re done here, what say we go over to the pub and do some people watching?” He offered after a moment. It wouldn’t be the first time he spent an evening in a bar – he did it frequently enough with Ariel, and sometimes with Kip as well when they made bets about the people around them.

Most people would tease him if he admitted that it was sometimes annoying, his need to prove a point. It was not out of pride, really, but he sought intellectual perfection.  He could not leave a point half argued, he could not let a discussion go half explored. It had to be all. And if he lost, all the more to his partner. Kip did not think himself any more clever than his friends, though many told him he was – he was just better practiced in the art of finding the truth, finding the right answer. This knack, however, had its drawbacks.

Darren was one of those who did not revel as much in the journey as the destination. He obviously enjoyed the banter, but he would prefer it end with Kip telling him he was right. He was not the only one, of course. It was only Yuri who could be happy with losing the argument, and it was Yuri who was most likely to beat Kip too. But he had to stop calling it ‘beating’ the other. It was not a competition. Intellectual discussion at its best was collaboration.  

As they exited the shop, Kip clapped a hand on Darren’s shoulder. “I have to say – few can best you in observation. A key eye and a discerning ear. I’m surprised neither has given you enough evidence to make you decide to quit me as a friend.” He grinned.

They were outside now, and they relaxed outside the building, Kip following his friend’s instructions by rounding off to face him. He settled his hands into his pockets and stared in the window, focusing his attention on the counter. Darren spoke and, though he did not look to his friend, he listened. He tried the idea out in his mind. Most of his nights were spent at The Ugly Unicorn, but a quick text to Kenna could ensure that his friends would not worry – she was the only friend anyone ever bothered contacting via muggle means, because she loved feeling like the epicenter of communication between them.

“Call it a plan,” Kip said, though he did not remove his eyes. Cherie had just come in, and he could tell she was calling out his answer. She stopped short, however, when she realized that her annoyance had disappeared. Her shoulders sagged briefly and she tapped her magazine twice against the counter before disappearing back into the room. Success – apparently she enjoyed having him as a distraction.

Kip smiled and beckoned Darren follow as he began down the street. “We’d better squash my triumph quickly. I’ve worked too hard to keep an ego at bay to compromise it now over a sassy clerk.”

The smile that lit Kip's face gave Darren his answer, though he made a show of not quite caring if she seemed to prove his friend right. At least now, he mused, they could get on with the truly amusing part - at least in Darren's opinion. People watching was probably his biggest and more favorite pastime, though it sounded a little strange. He often kept that opinion to himself around people who did not understand him as well as Ariel or Kip seemed to. Truly, they made up the entirety of his social circle most days. Practically always, really.

So with Kip's word, Darren turned to face the road that would lead them to their typical haunt, starting off without waiting for he other man to fall into step. "Well, when I best you at our game, that ego will not feel so inflated, I assure you."

True though it was that Kip won more often than Darren, the younger man liked to think that one day he would simply demolish his opponent. As unlikely as that seemed given their encounter with the store patrons. Yet he would try, determined to discover now facts about people than he found falsehoods. He half considered it a competition with himself sometimes, as the goal was to properly discern things that he shouldn't have been able to know about the strangers in their pub of choice.

Honestly, Darren simply preferred that pub over others due to it's abnormally low retention rate. He almost never saw the same people, which he attributed to the terrible meals. It meant, though, that he had ever-changing targets, and the game never became dull.

Pushing open the door to the little pub, Darren held it open behind him after passing, so that Kip could follow him inside. "Right," he began. "Where would you like to set up shop this time?"

Kip, for being such a serious person, had this playful side that he had never been able to properly explain – and he considered himself very enlightened on his own persona. But he had never been able to discern where it came from. He had been raised by gaggle of adults, with few friends his own age for company. His pastimes had always been mature, always rooted in the study of something or other. Though he did travel and experience things, he had never been encouraged to cause trouble, nor so heartily discouraged so as to build a rebellious side.

Kenna had always playfully suggest that the troublemaker in him came from the family he did not know. He had always disregarded the notion, only giving it thought when Yuri seconded it with seriousness in his voice. Now that Kip had met his halfsister, though, he supposed there may be some truth to it. She had responded boldly to him when they first met, and her house suggest a bright personality despite all of the waves of irritation and pent up aggression that seemed to come off of her. She had the same wry smile he had spotted on his own face on occasion.

He guessed he could attribute the troublemaker in him to the half of him that was a Dyllan.

They meandered off, a comfortable smile settling onto Kip’s lips as his toes touched here and there on the ground, moving him forward. He and Darren often frequented this bar, though only for the clientale. Nothing could tempt Kip from his loyalties to the MacBain siblings’ pub, but he did enjoy that their experiments were often unmonitored and forgotten here. It made the whole ordeal so much more scientific. He just wished they had better gin.

Darren spoke up and Kip cast a keen eye across the pub, before a smile crawled onto his smile. “Have you ever heard Remy’s doorman story?” Everyone who ever in the history of time met Remy had heard the joke. It was about this man playing as a doorman in a public restroom grossly unsuited for such service who progressively provides stranger requests until it turns out that he is actually an Azkaban escapee compiling a new identity. The story is long winded and told from a first person perspective and obviously a carefully constructed joke, but it had a brilliance to it.

Surely, Darren knew what he was suggesting.

Kip, dressed much too casually to be a doorman, took up a rigid posture next to the door, draping his own coat over his arm. His eyes twinkled in the direction of his friend, giving him free reign to join in anyway he thought ideal. Another doorman could be hysterical, or he could just be the straight man affirming the base reality of a doorman to whoever walked through the door next.