John had finally taken her advice about installing those artificial windows, Julian thought with satisfaction as she – having found upstairs seemingly deserted but the basement lid propped partially open – stepped down the last of the stairs to look for her brother and noticed pleasant sunlight, a far cry from the rather dreary winter day going on outside, falling on the floor. Windows still did not quite make up for the fact it was, well, the inside of an old trunk, heavily enchanted beyond its original dimensions, and she still needed to get him on board with heating the place properly, but at least it didn’t look so oppressively gloomy as it had in the past, with all the collapsing bookshelves and Strange Stuff of Science…doing whatever it was Strange Stuff of Science happened to be doing that day….
Today, it was nothing that looked particularly dangerous, at least as long as she didn’t touch it, which she had no desire whatsoever to do. There were several flasks and a small cauldron somehow bubbling despite their lack of any obvious heat source, and the usual bizarre miscellanea on a work table, but nothing appeared to be alive or in any other way capable of interacting on its own today. Including, she noticed, her brother – John, for some reason with that shapeless brown coat he’d stubbornly been wearing for years thrown over a red sweater, as though he’d been planning to go outside and then had decided to have a lie down instead, appeared to be quite soundly asleep on the ancient sofa shoved against one wall in a sort of alcove created by putting a bookcase at either end of it and then propping a third, somewhat smaller one across the tops of those two. Clucking her tongue slightly, Julian started straightening non-Strange Stuff of Science things up for something to do while she planned out the lecture she was going to give him about not coming down here at all when the tent was otherwise empty, much less going to sleep. His personality flaws combined with his excessive caffeine intake and the demands of his situation meant he was more or less always sleep deprived to one degree or another, but that didn’t excuse quite this much carelessness.
She would, she thought, have liked to lecture him again on how he was being a stubborn, over-proud idiot if he interpreted her attempting to make gifts of things like new coats and furniture as condescending, but she’d long since given up on that argument. In part this was because she had come to realize over the years that she had to choose her battles here, but it was also because it was, well, a bit stupid really. The man lived in a tent and carefully avoided answering questions touching on the legality of its placement. Until things became actually unsafe to use – essentially, when that shelf-on-top-of-two-shelves directly above where he slept started visibly buckling; John might dismiss the possibility of a broken nose and some cracked ribs if it collapsed as unimportant, but Julian did not – his furniture was, all things considered, not really something worth arguing over.
Moving around the room putting things where they looked like they ought to go, Julian contemplated the two stacks of books on one tiny table – the ‘recently finished’ and ‘yet to finish for whatever subject of interest is going on’ piles. Could she straighten those up without knocking them all to the floor…Stepping closer for a better look, she noticed something else and frowned.
Cautiously, she glanced at John, but he still seemed quite asleep. She made bold enough to try to examine the books on top of the stack to confirm what she’d thought, becoming more confused by the moment.
Verbal Judo: Redirecting Behavior With Words.
Doesn’t Hurt to Ask: Using the Power of Questions to Communicate.
Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion
Think Like A Lawyer….
The entire 'read' pile seemed to involve some variation on how to persuade people to do things. A subject she would have sworn John had less than no interest in. Was he that anxious about having to defend his thesis? She knew he was worried about that, and also that she and the rest of the family were also worried about that, they had all been amazed he’d been able to do the amount of talking necessary to get this far…but that was still a year off at best, and even if it had been tomorrow, it was still utterly bizarre: John was reading self-help books?
Anyone, of course, could benefit from a conscious effort at self-improvement, check-ins with their own mental health, et cetera et cetera. She’d read a few self-help books herself, albeit with mixed to poor results. She knew John, though, probably better than he knew himself, and from about age five, he’d seemed perfectly content with his own sometimes bizarre ways of interacting. If he tried to convince someone of something, it was by throwing lists at them so fast that the unfortunate other person couldn’t think straight, not by deliberately using persuasion – even in matters of emotions and stuff like that, even when being bombarded with information was not wanted or helpful.
Some of the spines in the to-be-read pile seemed to involve scientific works on the social behavior of primates, it seemed, which was at least vaguely in character and touched on his work, but was that, below that - ?
“I really wish you weren’t doing that.”
Julian gasped and flinched as she straightened up too fast, her hand flying to her heart. John, now awake and sitting up, scowled blearily at her. “And drawing your wand would be a much more useful reflex to try to develop than…that whole thing,” he added, indicating her hand before resting his elbows on his knees. “I mean, I could have just attacked you while you were distracted, if I’d wanted to, but if you’re going to do that instead of anything remotely defensive, then letting you turn around first just means you get to worry about how unpleasant being cursed is going to be for about half a second,” he added.
“Oh, shut up,” said Julian. “The door was open. I could have – well – something before you even woke up.”
“Which would make sense,” he acknowledged. “If you ever feel like you have to attack someone who isn’t me, then…that’s not the time for chivalry.”
“That’s not the point,” said Julian, cross, trying to figure out how she’d planned to tell him off for being careless and somehow ended up with him lecturing her on the same subject. “What is all this?” she demanded, pointing at the books.
“Trap to see if you’d get nosy if you thought I wasn’t looking.”
“John.”
“That’s m’name,” he observed, rubbing his eyes.
“What. Is. All. This?”
“Stack of books.”
“You’re reading about how people work.”
“Well-spotted.”
“Why?” John shrugged, not looking at her, instead summoning a nearby mug and looking to see if it was empty. Apparently it was, because he made a face and sent it back where it had been. “You’ve been convinced that humans are too stupid to study since you were eight,” Julian continued. “I’ve never seen you take the slightest interest in how to use persuasion. Something has to be wrong.”
“I also begged Mom to get me fencing lessons when I was eight, in case we wandered into Narnia one day. My opinion on the likelihood of that happening has changed. It goes with not being eight anymore.” Julian tapped her foot. “Nothing is wrong,” he insisted. "I wandered off on a tangent, that's all. Looking for Thursday Night Science topics..."
"You rank psychologists with carnival psychics," Julian pointed out, remembering the blow-up which had happened not long after his seventh year when she had insisted one time too many that he really ought to give going to a counselor a try, or at least talk to a priest about the train wreck the year before that had been for him - she had found his seventh year and the summer before it traumatic, so it seemed nearly impossible that John had somehow logicked his way into terms with the situation. She still thought that, in fact, but...battles had to be picked.
"Exactly," he said, nodding. "So I need pieces of evidence to back that opinion up, don't I?"
"You're lying to me."
John pinched the bridge of his nose between steepled fingers. "If you say so," he said. "Anyway - did you want something, or were you just rummaging through my things for fun?"
"I came to tell you something," said Julian, giving up for now. If there really was nothing afoot, it didn't matter; if there was, she'd catch him off-guard some other time... "Do you remember that Paul has a girlfriend?" she asked. John nodded impatiently. "Well, he's decided we can meet her, so I'm going to have a dinner party for them, back at the old house."
"Out west?"
"Yes. You know. It's easier for them, since she's a Squib, too..."
Explaining was probably not a good idea, so she stopped herself before she got too far behind. John seemed not to think anything of it. Instead, he nodded again, though he didn't look very happy about it. "I suppose you're also telling me that I'm required to show up and try to act normal?" he asked.
"I think Paul would appreciate it," she said.
"Want me to ask Sammy along?"
"You can. She might as well be part of the family, anyway. So, get back to me about what she says - do you want me to make you a cup of tea upstairs? I have to write times and dates on all your calendars so you can't conveniently forget anyway."
"I'll make the tea while you do that," said John. "Or - I'll make myself a cup of tea, and you a cup of fruity stained water."
"Very funny. Totally never heard that one before."
"That's why I'm going to be such a success as a comedian after school," said John, completely deadpan, at least until Julian began to laugh.