Here to help on Potions

Jean Wolfe

June 18, 2020 8:42 AM

Here to help by Jean Wolfe

The crate of potions ingredients absolutely did not wobble slightly as Jean-Loup approached the office. He had his levitation totally and utterly under control. It was strange… He had spent years at society parties lying through his teeth, an absolute fraud and he had felt almost nothing. Certainly no nerves. Maybe because he knew he played that part well enough to deceive them all. Maybe because he had pushed the part he didn’t want them to see down so deep he thought they would never be able to find it. And when everything you were being was a lie, what did you have to lose? Now he was in this building full of people who expected something real from him and would judge him if they found him wanting.

He knocked on the door, offering a cheerful smile to Professor Brooding-Hawthorne when she opened it.

“Ingredients delivery,” he announced, levitating the box inside once she instructed him where to put it. There was a substantial overlap between the medical stocks and the potions one, and he’d had to compile a joint order for them the week before.

“Ms. Katey stated that you will make some potions for her?” he confirmed. Again, he had the rough timetable of when that fitted into Professor Brooding-Hawthorne’s schedule, and had put off bringing down the ingredients until he knew both that she would be here and be likely to be about to start work on something.

“She requests that please may slow healing serum be a priority, and if I will not be inconvenient, I am to remain and help,” he summarised, hoping he was conveying that the healer hoped that would be possible but it remained Professor Brooding-Hawthorne’s choice. “I think I am convenient - I do have experience of making it many times, so I will be… not under feet?” he suggested. He had been trying to learn more idioms and thought she might be a forgiving audience to try them on.

13 Jean Wolfe Here to help 1506 1 5

Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

June 18, 2020 11:36 AM

Merlin knows I need it. by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Having time off babysitting - parenting? - duty was great, but it wasn't always enough. Her off days were teaching days, prep days, brewing days, and office hours. She was able to be somewhat available the other days as well, but hosting office hours was hard enough with just Zeus, let alone when she had Zeus and Dora both. She was glad that she had Tabitha for part of that and they shared those responsibilities but that didn't make it easy. Grading was something that could be done while the kids played, but it depended on what it was that she was trying to grade. Today, however, she was alone in her office when a knock sounded at the door. She'd been waiting on some ingredients to come in and was happy to see Jean-Loup and his levitating collection of them entering the room.

"On the floor over there is fine," she smiled, pointing at a space near the shelves and practically bubbling over with excitement. There was something so special about the smell of fresh ingredients all together in a delivery box. "Thank you so much," she added, resisting the urge to dig into them right away in favor of being nice. Jean-Loup was easy to be nice to; dating Dorian and making him happy was just the start of it. As it turned out, punching Dorian's brother the face really endeared Jean-Loup to Mary, and when Dorian said anything that made her think of what sort of "physical" things they might be getting up to, she just pretended he was talking about punching the sack of crap Dorian was related to. In any case, Jean-Loup was a friendly, welcome face.

She nodded resolutely when the intern passed on Katey's requests. The new medic was kind and communicative and if not for the fact that Mary's life had turned upside down at the start of this school year, she might've been having a really pleasant go of it right now. "Yes, I can prioritise slow healing serum," she agreed, moving around her desk to write it at the top of a growing list she had been working on there. That done, she beamed up at Jean-Loup. "And I'd love to have your help. It isn't often that I get to work with advanced potion students, although you aren't quite a student, and I'm always happy to have you around."

Sometimes, Mary wondered how useful her cadence was. She knew she was long-winded sometimes, but she also knew she was generally cognizant of the needs of English language learners, and that she spoke clearly, a little slower than usual, and with emphasized tone to help mark questions and statements when the words that did so were missed. She was pretty sure she did none of those things in any sort of condescending way, although she also thought that about her multilingual library of textbooks and she suspected that Dorian and Tatiana, for example, had very different feelings about that as well. Wanting to be sure, she searched Jean-Loup's face for any questions, ready to answer them should he have any.

"You will not be under foot," she reported, both to show agreement and to offer the more standard phrasing back to him. "That's right. Do you want to get some of the ingredients and I'll get a cauldron on?" she asked as she began her work. Normally she would've offered the opposite arrangement but go through my things and get a cauldron on seemed like it wouldn't be comfortable for him. Plus, he probably had had a hand in packing or at least inventorying the box of ingredients and could get through them easier or faster. At the same time, she waved her wand at the book case. "Accio," she muttered, thinking of a French/English parallel recipe book with a particularly good version of the serum. She'd dogeared the page and returned many times even without Jean-Loup's presence, but it seemed especially fitting now. Catching the tome that flew towards her, she flipped it open so she could read the English edition on the left and the French was on the right. With notes and scribbles all over the margins of the English edition, it was clear that she wasn't only retrieving this book because a French speaker was present.

"Do you know how many ounces or gallons you need? I can make a smaller batch if you need some right away and then make more later for your stores." She was pretty sure Jean-Loup would be most familiar with liters because most of the friggin' world was, but she was lousy with metric and couldn't help him there. One of these books probably had a conversion table in it, but otherwise they'd have to resort to pointing at the glass bottles and jars they'd fill and just counting them.

22 Mary Brooding-Hawthorne Merlin knows I need it. 1424 0 5

Jean Wolfe

June 18, 2020 7:32 PM

Well then. I shall. by Jean Wolfe

“Thank you,” he smiled, as she stated he would be welcome to stay and help. And at the fact that she had said she was always happy to have him around. It was perhaps just a set phrase but it was a nice thought. He wasn’t sure how many people were always happy to see him. Dorian’s friends were nice enough to him but… but they had known Dorian for what felt like forever. Since he had been even smaller with seemingly even bigger eyes (Jean-Loup had seen photographs back when he hadn’t been blacklisted at the Montoir household - tiny Dorian had been adorable). Sometimes it felt like he was trying to catch up. And like he never would. Like they would always know his boyfriend more closely than he did. And he wasn’t sure how much he was supposed to try. Of course, he should be nice, he should get on with them… But did they want to be his friend as well, or all just get on for the sake of Dorian? He worried that he was interrupting the established balance of their friendship when he joined, and that he wasn’t making enough effort when he didn’t. It was a tricky dynamic to navigate.

On the plus side, his work hours were fairly well ‘always on.’ He didn’t have anyone just of his own that he could hang out with here, but if he felt in the way he could always claim that he needed to get back to the infirmary. It wasn’t like that was short on social interaction, even if he didn’t feel like he could talk to Ms. Katey about anything personal.

So, whilst it was a little intimidating to be forced into one to one conversation with Professor Brooding-Hawthorne, he thought this might be nice. It was a chance to do something and to be someone other than Dorian’s tag along. He had no doubt he was going to be inspected and evaluated throughout these proceedings. But he got to be here somewhat in his own right too. To connect over something else. Though he suspected Dorian might come up a few times, and that was more than fine too. He also knew she approved, if not of him yet as an individual, then certainly of Dorian dating. He didn’t have that many people he could chat to about how great Dorian was. Again, with his friends, he didn’t want to upset the usual balance of their interactions with all his mushy romantic thoughts. It was just… it was nice to have a real reason to be here, and to know that he might actually be able to talk to someone for a change. Even if he didn’t necessarily open up as easily as Dorian did.

“Yes, I can,” he nodded, turning to the ingredients stores, and stifling a smile at her phrasing. She was going to put a cauldron on. He was not sure it would suit her. English was funny. He knew what she meant really of course - on the fire. But apparently you were allowed to drop those words in this situation.

“She does not say. I think more is better?” he suggested. Slow healing serum was slow in a lot of ways. Slow to make. Slow to turn bad. So doing a big batch was the most logical thing to him.

He returned with the ingredients, and began squeezing the rosehips to extract juice. He was used to being the lowest rung of the ladder and this situation was no exception, so he was on the unskilled half of the slicing and dicing - the bulk ingredient preparation. Some ingredients, of course, needed delicate prep. A potion’s quality could be make or break depending on the precision of certain cuts, and he could be delicate enough with a knife if trusted to do so. But when something said ‘crush’or ‘squeeze’ or ‘pulp’ it was fairly much a brute force task.

“It begins to smell like Christmas,” he grinned, as the aroma of the different ingredients was released. “The ice skating,” he clarified, “We make. Dorian tells you..?” he checked, pretty sure she had enough background information to understand him but again, it was one of those strange pitfalls of talking with someone who knew about you but where you hadn’t been the source of that information.

13 Jean Wolfe Well then. I shall. 1506 0 5

Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

June 21, 2020 5:48 AM

Do you know much about hormonal youth? by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Mary went about getting the cauldron ready but kept half an eye out on Jeam-Loup at the same time. She hadn't been the one to train him and that always made her a bit nervous. Of course, he was obviously skilled anyway, but Mary was particularly. She was an excellent potions master and occasionally got defensive about it because most people could brew potions well enough to get by without her, they just lacked either the finesse, consistency, or speed to really prefer to. In any case, Jean-Loup seemed perfectly suited to at least the task he'd taken on and knowing your strengths - or limits - was crucial, so Mary smiled, pleased. When the cauldron was on and getting ready, Mary grabbed a bowl and joined Jean-Loup at his side, carefully extracting juice from the first horklump she found in the box. While she was at it, she might as well get the skin and such as well, so she set about dissecting and preparing the whole of it as she went.

The motions were familiar and comfortable. Mary rarely got to make anything with other people, except Heinrich, but they worked in companionable silence most often and he was less bubbly than Jean-Loup was (which was one heck of a comparison really), and she enjoyed it. Even if she'd been alone though, brewing potions always set her at ease; it was a linear process in many ways, mechanical and black-and-white, whilst still managing to be nearly as much an art as a science. It started here, it ended there, and there were infinite options between the two moments. This was just one moment.

She smiled at the mention of Christmas. It was certainly not her favorite time of year, but it was a beautiful one nonetheless. She thought Jean-Loup might relate to that in his own way, seeing as they both had lost family of sorts and that always made holidays tough. "Yes," Mary said, realising that this particular potion would indeed smell like Christmas for Jean-Loup. "I remember thinking you have the makings of a skilled healer when Dorian told me," she added. "I was anxious to check his wrist when he got back, but healing was never my forte. It's not my best skill. I can make the potion but that's about where my abilities run out." She smirked a little at her young colleague, wondering how deep his sense of humor ran. In a lot of ways, he was the Tabitha of their relationship - stoic, calm, austere, powerful - and in other ways, Mary thought she might be himself - wickedly flirtatious, mischievous, and as likely to be deadly as lifesaving. "I think that's when you won Dorian over, you know."

22 Mary Brooding-Hawthorne Do you know much about hormonal youth? 1424 0 5

Jean Wolfe

June 21, 2020 8:47 PM

I believe you have this great American tradition called 'taking the fifth?' by Jean Wolfe

“Thank you,” Jean-Loup smiled, when Professor Brooding-Hawthorne complimented his potential healer skills. He watched the way she cut up the horklump. The right way. The way that preserved the parts she wasn’t using here for later use. He tried to prepare all his ingredients that way too, even though the current tasks he was on did not give much chance for showing that. He considered commenting on it, but it was enough to keep up with one subject at a time, and Dorian was a much more interesting one.

“He is okay,” he assured her, something almost like wounded pride just on the very edge of his voice as she suggested she had wanted to inspect Dorian when he got back. Jean-Loup would not have let him leave the medical tent with anything less than a perfectly healed, fully functional wrist - and all his wits about him. “But I understand this feeling,” he relented, fairly sure she was less doubting his work and more just wanting to wrap Dorian up, check him over - he understood that desire to have Dorian constantly there, where you could see him and touch him and know he was demonstrably fine. And it wasn’t like he’d never dropped the ball on that front. Just it hadn’t been the incident with Dorian’s wrist…

Happily, Professor Brooding-Hawthorne steered the conversation away from that, and back into happier territory. Well, more or less. He was sure some degree of the ‘winning over’ had been his own merits - that he had been kind and gentle and caring. But there was also the fact he had intervened with Matthieu during the incident on the ice. It was complicated how many of the parts that had built up to their relationship starting had involved Matthieu, when he was something that Jean-Loup wanted to wipe firmly from the narrative of Dorian’s life. He disliked the notion that Matthieu had wormed his way into their story, like a maggot in an apple. He also knew it was a good thing that he had pushed Dorian to confront it at home but he didn’t like something counting in his credit when it was something that should never have needed doing. And when it was very easy to feel like it hadn’t been enough or made any difference in the end.

“He talks about me then?” he asked, glancing at the professor with a hopeful look, deciding to stick to lighter part of things. “At that time, before we are dating?” Of course he and Dorian had talked about it, and Dorian had promised he thought well of him too from their first meeting and especially after the ice incident, but it would be nice to hear the confirmation from someone else.

13 Jean Wolfe I believe you have this great American tradition called 'taking the fifth?' 1506 0 5

Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

June 22, 2020 10:34 PM

Well done, young Padawan. by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Jean-Loup was pleasant company. It was sort of nice to chat with someone who was not a student, but with whom she could interact more in that familiar, student-professor way than she could her colleagues. They also both cared deeply about the same person, which meant that they weren't exactly starting from ground zero on their friendship or collegiality-ship(?) and that helped too. Truth be told, Mary was probably too tired to try that hard with a new new person. She hadn't tried hard with Katey, even when she really wanted to. She wondered idly whether Jean-Loup would like to babysit.

She laughed, grinning when Jean-Loup asked whether Dorian talked about him back then. "Yes," she beamed. "It was good for him to realise that someone could care about him, not just because he's their student or their child or their friend, but because he's worth caring about." She had another moment where she considered what his sense of humor was probably like, and how weird it would be for her to treat him like he was not a student. But he wasn't. And Mary had high hopes that Dorian and Jean-Loup would both be in hers and Tabitha's lives after this. Oh and Zeus. Shifting her weight a little, Mary only hesitated a moment. "Really, he thought you were gorgeous. Not my type," she smirked, eyes sparkling with humor and hoping desperately she wasn't crossing any lines here. "Women and all that. But he definitely was enamored by then."

22 Mary Brooding-Hawthorne Well done, young Padawan. 1424 0 5

Jean Wolfe

June 23, 2020 8:00 AM

This is less familiar by Jean Wolfe

Jean-Loup shifted the rosehip hulls off to one side, leaving the juice within easy reach. He began weighing out licquorice root as he pondered her remarks about caring for Dorian in some unique or more personal way. That was… interesting. He had long suspected that Professor Brooding-Hawthorne cared about Dorian as much more than a student. He rather thought friendship was the most equal thing - the thing that didn’t have to be given and only demanded itself back in return. Being a friend was a free choice, just like being a lover, and was different to teacher or parent. And a little more pure of heart. In the medical tent, he had cared about Dorian as his patient, but that again was a duty. And Professor Brooding-Hawthorne was talking about outside of that… Jean-Loup was pretty sure that the only unique perspective he’d brought to the situation - the way he felt about him that none of Dorian’s friends did - was wanting to get into his pants. He wondered if some kind of euphemism was going over his head here, or whether the Professor thought his intentions were a lot purer than they had been. Dorian had been the one to turn this into something romantic, after all. It wasn’t something he was sorry for at all, but he definitely couldn’t claim credit for it.

“Thank you,” he stated politely, with a neat, even smile. Professor Brooding-Hawthorne had, after all, paid him a compliment, and he was not about to get into philosophising on whether it was accurate or not. He began slicing the licqorice root into long thin slivers, slightly glad that the kneazle was not around to catch him out. It was not lying per se. It was just… When someone smiled and said something nice, you smiled and thanked them, even if you were really a dreadful person deep down who didn’t deserve their praise. Doubly so if they already knew that. He didn’t think it was the case with her. It was just ingrained - smile, be polite, be gracious, don’t rock the broomstick. They were all basic survival skills.

His smile shifted as she told him what he’d clearly been wanting to hear. Dorian had liked him. It altered from the pleasant, even grin which nicely and symmetrically showed his nice and symmetrical teeth into something lopsided - something which moved one side of his mouth more than the other and put a little wrinkle in his nose. He’d always thought of it as an ugly smile, or a goofy one at the very least but Dorian called it his cute smile - his real one. He’d been able to like it a little better since finding someone who it was worthwhile bringing it out for. He stowed it away again quickly, not sure how he felt about letting Professor Brooding-Hawthorne see it (even if it was still for Dorian) but the way it had reached his eyes and made him straighten out his shoulders just a little wasn’t so easily hidden.

The rest of what she said caught up to him shortly afterwards - which was, essentially, that she personally did not find him attractive (good) - and he gave her a calculating sideways look.

“You are making jokes,” he suggested, raising an eyebrow, “I mean… You say true things, but you are making them be jokes?” he checked.

13 Jean Wolfe This is less familiar 1506 0 5

Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

June 24, 2020 11:05 PM

You're a natural. by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

When the horklump was done, Mary took a moment to properly pack the skins away before taking the parts she needed for the potion to the cauldron, followed by the juice Jean-Loup had prepared. Adding those two to the cauldron, she stirred it, heated it, and waved her wand as was necessary while he began his next task. She grinned and laughed more heartily when he asked whether she was joking and telling the truth at the same time.

"Yes," she said. "I wondered a bit what your sense of humor might be like. What you think is funny." She inclined her head in mock grace. "I am glad to have done the trick."

A smirk settled on her lips as she took the next item and began working. It was mechanical and easy and it was good to be smiling while she did it. Normally, she made a point of not eating or drinking in her work area while brewing, but an extra set of eyes meant it was safer to do so than if she'd been alone, and if you were going to accidentally imbibe a potion, a healing one was the one to do it with. Besides, once Jean-Loup finished his task, and as Mary added the last of the ingredients she'd prepared, the potion would have to stew for a while. It did take time, after all, or else it wouldn't have worked the way it did. So she could prepare something for them while Jean-Loup finished, right? That was alright to do?

"If you do have some spare time and don't mind the company, I'd be happy to get us something while we wait. I like hot chocolate myself but Tabitha - my wife - likes tea. What's your drink of choice? I can get us some cakes or fruit, too."

22 Mary Brooding-Hawthorne You're a natural. 1424 0 5

Jean Wolfe

June 25, 2020 8:57 AM

Oh. Good. by Jean Wolfe

What was his sense of humour like? That was a good question. It was like a distilled version of what his personality was like after all. And the answer was probably as flexible. It was what it needed to be to avoid rankling with or raising suspicion from those around him, although he had tried to rise above the locker room banter that came with being on a sports team. Professor Brooding-Hawthorne's humour seemed more gentle, and might be one he could get behind, if he could detect it and respond quickly enough. He thought he might have missed his chance on this round.

"Most of my humour is in French, so probably it cannot work on you," he quipped with a light smile. "However, I promise, I am very amuse," he added, straightening his face out to look dead serious as he said this.

She put the potion on to the first stage of its brew, which gave them a chance for a little break. Though not one that involved leaving the room. He hoped that, without the joint task of preparing the ingredients, the atmosphere wouldn't change too much. He had been relatively comfortable with it up until this point.

"Ah. I prefer coffee," he answered slightly guiltily, "And fruit. Dorian tries many times with tea... But you and your wife, you show this is not... the impossible difference?" he stated. Dorian, he suspected would also have opted for the cake. He was not sure where all the calories Dorian consumed went... But again, Jean-Loup differed. He preferred to snack healthily.

"This is the interview?" he asked, trying her tactic of saying things he suspected were true but quirking his eyebrows as if they did not matter so much, "We sit, and you ask... mes intentions?" Dorian had said that words that ended '-tion' were often borrowed directly into English and that if you just said them with an American enough accent it sounded right. Jean-Loup could not imagine that word with any other pronunciation, and so left it in French, which was perhaps different enough to be a little challenging to decode. He waited to be directed or invited before he found a place to make himself comfortable.

13 Jean Wolfe Oh. Good. 1506 0 5

Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

June 25, 2020 10:20 AM

So... how's it going? by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Mary smirked and nodded seriously. "Good," she said about Jean-Loup being 'very amuse', figuring the relational part of using language was more important than using it like a native speaker. Those were things that Jean-Loup would learn naturally as he used the language and feeling like every conversation was a lesson wouldn't help at all.

She let out a relieved breath when Jean-Loup said he preferred coffee. Keen as she was on cake herself, she'd take coffee over tea most days. "Coffee sounds great," she said, opting for the drink as well. Bonding and what not. "And yes, it works out for us. She can have as much tea in the apartment as she wants and never has to worry I'll get into it," she grinned. She waved her wand and smiled at the house elf who appeared. "Could we have coffee?" she asked kindly. "And a fruit platter?"

The elf nodded and popped away again, appearing a moment later with a tray of coffee, cream, and sugar, and a fruit tray with some cheeses and crackers as well. Mary smiled. "Thank you so much." And the elf was gone.

She turned to Jean-Loup. "Normally I would have just made us some coffee but I didn't have fruit on hand, so this seemed easiest," she explained as she turned to learn on the table, wanting to impress that she didn't just call on house elves for every whim.

Nearby, the potion simmered happily, and the gentle sound filled the room with an aura of busyness and activity without feeling rushed. It was Mary's favorite environment. She found the steam, the bubbling, the crackling of a fire when she was using one that crackled, all of it made for the most comfortable atmosphere a room could have. Some potions smelled terrible, but usually your smelled pretty decent, too. When she finished adding her cream and sugar to her coffee - she liked it sweet - that smelled good too.

Her mouth twitched when Jean-Loup asked about an interview and the intentions he had with his relationship with Dorian. "It's okay," she smirked. "You've already got the position." She wasn't totally sure he'd understand the double between his position as an intern and his position as Dorian's boyfriend, but she thought he'd at least get half of it and he was clever, so he might get both. It worked out. "Unless you really want to talk about your intentions?" she suggested, raising a playfully dangerous eyebrow at him as she took a sip of her drink. "Should I be worried?"

22 Mary Brooding-Hawthorne So... how's it going? 1424 0 5

Jean Wolfe

June 30, 2020 3:35 AM

Everything is fine by Jean Wolfe

“I will not ever steal the tea,” Jean-Loup stated his tone slow and steady as if he was writing from dictation, an action which he mimed as he spoke. “Good way of saying,” he grinned. “Thank you.”

After they had washed their hands thoroughly to rid them of any residues, Professor Brooding-Hawthorne went about getting their refreshments. She seemed… embarrassed about something. Specifically, about not being able to make coffee for him, except he did have one… It took him a moment to filter the difference between making it herself versus calling on a house elf to do it for them and he mostly caught it because he’d noticed her thanking the elf, which was unusual. Where he was from, calling on an elf to get things for your guests was fairly standard - that counted as ‘getting them a coffee.’

“Thank you,” he said politely, as he took his drink and speared a grape with one of the dainty silver forks provided. He wasn’t sure how to address her other remarks and just had to hope that appreciating her effort in the endeavour was the done thing, even when she herself seemed keen to discount it. Once she was done with the cream and the sugar, he added some to his own coffee.

“Something in common,” he noted, sounding pleased. It was a further reassurance that Dorian could get along more than superficially with someone who did not ahere to his tea standards. Coffee with cream and sugar was very much a guilty pleasure, and the one really unhealthy habit that he couldn’t kick. He speared an apple slice to balance it out a little.

He grinned over the rim of his mug when she stated that he already had the job. Not quite the soft, nose-wrinklng smile that talking about Dorian had evoked, nor the standard social smile, but… something of a grin. Genuinely happy, but also like the cat that had got the cream.

“No,” he batted her question away easily, still smiling. It was something he’d got used to doing. Smile, laugh it off, tell people what they wanted to hear. Of course, had she been anyone else, he might have had a word with her about giving Dorian baby fever. Dorian had this whole bright future planned out that was getting more and more detailed by the second. And when they had first got together, Jean-Loup had been scared of believing that could be real. He wasn’t sure if he was, or was actually more scared now of it becoming real… But she wasn’t just anyone. She was on Dorian’s side, not his, and she wanted to hear that he and Dorian were happily on the same page and that Jean-Loup would give him whatever he wanted. He didn’t particularly have anyone on his side, except maybe Mr. Row but that was how it had been for the last five years anyway. Along with smiling nicely and telling people what they wanted to hear. “No need worried,” he assured her. And he’d become really excellent at making people believe that. Even when they thought they knew him well.

13 Jean Wolfe Everything is fine 1506 0 5