A Memorable Meeting (W.Bruce)

Posts : 23 Join date : 2017-08-25

Start of 2nd Year

It seemed that being adopted into a Pureblood family meant that she'd have to attend all sorts of events, including balls. And in all honesty, she wasn't entirely thrilled to be required to attend such events. Dresses, she found, were uncomfortable. And the shoes, the heels made her feet ache. Perhaps it had just been the way she'd grown up, but any sort of clothing that limited movement, she positively hated. Thankfully, she doubted that she'd have to do much running, jumping, flipping or climbing at all at this event. However, that didn't mean that she had to particularly enjoy it.

Her siblings had gotten all dolled up for the ball too, unsurprisingly. She'd chosen a dress that wasn't overly girly, yet would still be suitable for the event. It was a compromise on her part as her new sisters insisted that she couldn't wear her favourite leather jacket to the event. The shoes though, she'd most likely end up carrying them towards the end of the evening.

The family arrived together at the event, and the place was already packed. Ivy remained quiet, observant, while she was introduced to a plethora of different people that she wouldn't and couldn't remember who they were. They must have been important though, to be somewhere like this. She didn't like many of the people there at all. They all seemed the same- rich, snobby, with an air of self-importance that hadn't actually been earned. To say that she felt out of place was a severe understatement. Once formalities were done, she made her way to the one place she truly wanted to be, the food table. Although seeing the spread, she found a bunch of food that she had never actually tried before. Was it too much to ask for ordinary food? Regardless, she picked up one of the plates and hesitantly scooped something that looked like clumpy, tiny black balls onto her plate, bringing it to her nose to smell before she dared put whatever it was into her mouth.

Posts : 22 Join date : 2017-09-07

Start of 4th Year

Sometimes, Bruce felt very, very old. Normal fourteen year olds were out trying to get laid or chilling in front of video games. Pureblood fourteen year olds were usually learning who they were engaged to, or attending functions in order to learn more about politics.

But Bruce, however, was downing back a single shot of polyjuice. He'd decided that he'd stick to his previous lie of his mother still being sick (that ball had only been two days ago, after all) and attend as his father. Of course, there was also an important meeting his father had to attend shortly, and he himself was busy with school activities until a tad later. That meant he'd only need to be his father for an hour, before he could leave and return as himself.

Pleasantries were made, conversations held, and as the clock struck ten, Peter excused himself. Ten minutes later, Bruce arrived, slightly put off his father wasn't there, but understanding.

Pretence done for the evening, Bruce settled into his role as fourteen-year-old-heir. It was difficult, keeping track of what he knew as Peter, what he knew as Mary, and what he knew as himself; the information was usually vastly different. But he'd made an art of it, and Henry had been a lot of help (and still was!), and Bruce had it down to perfection. The loss of both parents still stung, at times, but he was lucky in that they had never truly been close. If he'd lost Henry, though, Bruce didn't know what he'd do; his butler had always been someone he admired. A father figure in many ways, both before and after his father was murdered.

Bruce sighed softly to himself. Polyjuice was a tiring potion to take. It always made him both exhausted and starving to take on the form of someone else. Without much hesitation, he made his way over to the food table. Rounds could wait; after all, he was in the middle of a negotiation between the Byrnes and his family, and wasn't in the market so to speak. He didn't particularly like Florrie, but she wasn't too bad considering some of the others. At the very least, he could see himself learning to get along with her. Officially, he knew nothing about it, of course; it was his father doing the negotiations. Soon, though, they'd be told. Still, despite the opportunity to choose for himself, he felt like there could be more, like he was missing something big.

Someone else was also at the food table, and he racked his brains. She seemed familiar, like he'd seen her around school, but who she was, Bruce couldn't place immediately. It took a few moments, during which he helped himself to a plate, and then turned to her, a fake smile on his face. Of course; how could he forget? Ivy Richardson, adopted into the Richardson family, former orphan. It was a smart move, and Bruce had considered it for a second before realising it was impossible; said person would have to be in on the Family Secret, and that wasn't a chance he was willing to take.

"Ivy, wasn't it?" he said, sticking out a hand. "Bruce Sanderson. We're in mixed Potions together, I believe. You're a second year, right?"

Posts : 23 Join date : 2017-08-25

Ivy had adamantly decided that no, she didn't even want to try the black gloop that smelled kind of fishy. She'd screwed up her nose as soon as the scent had hit her nose, and almost immediately tilted her plate to push it back into the bowl which she'd gotten it from. Whatever it was, she didn't want to try it at all. Maybe it was one of those acquired taste things.

She glanced up when someone, who she soon recognised from potions class, addressed her and introduced himself. She didn't exactly know how old he was, only that it was older than her, and that he was in her house. He'd always seemed to keep rather to himself at school, she couldn't recall actually seeing him with any friends at all, if she was perfectly honest. All she did know about the Sanderson family had been taught to her by Serafina- that they were the proper elite. She had to wonder why he'd even talk to her, she supposed he just had to make pleasantries with people, keep up the reputation of the family and all of that stuff that Purebloods seemed to care so much about. Her eyes flickered towards his outstretched hand before going back to him. She placed the plate back on the table next to her and took his hand to shake.

"Oh right... You're that recluse kid aren't you?" she replied, almost before thinking. It didn't seem to occur to her until a few moments afterwards that it might have been considered rude. She wasn't about to backtrack or fumble about what she said though.

Posts : 22 Join date : 2017-09-07

There were many things on Bruce's mind. As Peter, he'd picked up a lot of important information he would need to sort through later; it was one of the reasons he'd invested in a pensive. Still, knowing he'd be able to sort through them at any time didn't stop him from going through it before he got home. There'd been something about a business deal from many years ago -- six, to be exact -- and Bruce was slightly worried. He didn't have the information he needed for this; how would he make conversation or carry it through later on? He'd have to ask Henry. Was this a test? Did someone suspect? There were so many things to consider...

He tore himself away from the questions just in time. Giving Ivy a firm but polite shake, he smiled at her again. "Wonderful to meet you," he said, then raised an eyebrow at her words.

It wasn't that he was offended, of course; Bruce was far too involved in important things to ever get offended by mere words. It wasn't that he wasn't used to people being blunt; despite his status, he had multiple muggleborn and halfblood friends, both in his house and others. Besides, the Sandersons had a name not just in the wizarding world, but businesses and charities that edged into the muggle world, too, and Bruce had spent some time there. He supposed it had mostly to do with location and timing, two important things Henry had taught him.

Ivy, he had to remind himself, had been an orphan in the muggle world until very recently. She wouldn't have been accustomed to the ways of the upper class (not that Bruce really cared about it; it was just another role to play among many others).

And then there were her words. Recluse? He had friends. Sure, none he could call close or 'best', but friends nevertheless -- people he ate lunch with, or sat with in the library, or tutored in certain subjects, or traded books with. Those were friends, were they not? He'd been silent for a while now, he was realising; not a good thing. Pulling himself back, he fought against a shrug (it wasn't proper) and instead said, "Don't make such quick judgements on those you don't know. I have friends."

Posts : 23 Join date : 2017-08-25

Casually, she turned back to see if there was something ordinary to eat, though it seemed to be a bunch of fancy stuff that she wasn't used to, stuff she was slightly wary of trying. She merely shrugged at his response "I make judgements based on what I see. I haven't seen you with any friends," she replied.

She, of course, wasn't one to talk when it came to friends. She didn't really have any at all, with the exception of perhaps her adopted sister, Stephanie. They got on well enough. Serafina and McKendra were quite a bit older than her. But other than that, she hadn't really made the effort to make any friends. She knew from experience that people couldn't be trusted, she supposed that she kind of closed herself off to the idea. She made acquaintances, people that one would chat to about superficial things, or say a quick 'hi' to in the hallways. But that would be all, nothing more.

She looked back to Bruce "Do rich people not eat pizza or something?" she asked. That was all she felt like, just something simple. None of the food available appealed to her. She ate what she was used to, and only things that she knew. She loved food, all food. The only thing was, she needed to know what she was eating, purely out of habit. One too many times, she'd been ill from eating just whatever was there, it really made her cautious about what she ate. And if everything smelled as gross as that fishy stuff... Well, she wasn't keen to try it.

Posts : 22 Join date : 2017-09-07

"That's not the best way of doing things," Bruce said, almost before he could help it. It was reflex; Henry tested him like that, often throwing random ideas at him to see what Bruce thought, or if he remembered his training. He paused, wondering if he needed to expand, and then realised he'd already dug himself into a hole. He had to speak, had to explain himself, or it would seem weird. "Looks can be deceiving. One thing might really be another, and you never know. Make assumptions from observations, then test them. If they hold true, then you may state them as facts; if they don't..." He stopped here. He'd almost said then do you whatever needs doing, before realising who he was talking to and stopping himself. It wasn't proper of him. Then again, Ivy wasn't exactly proper, either.

Her statement brought forth a genuine chuckle, startling even him; he wasn't prone to laughter. In fact, Henry often complained that Bruce was too serious for a boy his age; Bruce had countered by pointing out that a boy his age typically (read: never) had to pretend to be either one of his dead parents. It hadn't been a good conversation.

Flashing her a genuine smile -- the first one of the night -- Bruce reached over and picked up the caviar on cracker from her plate and moved it to his, before taking the simpler beef skewer from his and putting it on hers. "I take it you've never had caviar," he said. "It's awful, but you have to pretend to enjoy it for the sake of appearing sophisticated. I don't know if anyone actually likes it."

For just a moment, he was so tempted to do something sporadic; it wasn't everyday he had conversation like this with another Pureblood, and he felt, for what might be the first time, like he could be himself. That in itself made him weary, though, and he stopped himself from inviting her back to his place for pizza. Instead he gestured to the table of food. "I can tell you what each dish is, if you want. Which are nice and which aren't."

Posts : 23 Join date : 2017-08-25

"I don't know," she replied to his comment about ensuring that the observations were correct before stating them as fact "My method seemed efficient... You set me up with the facts pretty quickly," she paused "Or would that have been "testing the observation"," she used air quotes. Observation had always been reliable for her, which was why she preferred to blend into the background rather than have the spotlight on her. Of course, nothing was one hundred percent flawless with observation, though it usually came pretty close, especially if the subject didn't know that they were being watched. His reply made sense too.

"How would you test it though?" she asked, genuinely curious. Being blunt wouldn't work for everything, especially if there was some convoluted plan. Purebloods talked a lot, it'd have to be through careful talking, she assumed. Until recently, the most convoluted plan she'd had to uncover was which kid had stolen her pocket knife. It hadn't been difficult either. Some prodding, some threats, some aggression, eventually they relented. But that was a place where reputation didn't matter and people were too focused on their wants to come up with some complex scheme that required spy work to figure out what had happened.

She felt a small smile spread across her lips at his comment about the caviar, as he swapped what was on her plate with what he had "Is that why people drink bubbly too?" she asked. She'd had a sip, she didn't like it. It was far too bitter to be nice. "Are you going to act all sophisticated and eat that then?" she nodded to his plate.

"Yeah, please," she glanced over at the food "That'd be awesome," she added before picking up the beef skewer he'd given her and tentatively biting into it.

Posts : 22 Join date : 2017-09-07

"Of course I did. I have nothing to hide," he replied, the irony making him want to laugh. He didn't; it wasn't something to laugh at. "But if I did, you wouldn't know, would you?"

The question made him pause. He knew exactly how he tested it, but did he want to share his methods? Not all, he told himself. But some. If I don't give any, it will be suspicious. Smiling at her (it was now back to the fake, guarded one), he said, "It depends what you're testing for. If you think someone is trustworthy, for example, you can give them a juicy secret -- made up, naturally -- and send a trusted friend to try and draw it from them. If you think someone is kind, ask for help. If you think someone is hiding something, follow them."

"Bubbly?" he asked. There wasn't anything called bubbly, far as he knew. There were things that were bubbly, like soda, but he wasn't sure what she was talking about.

The question made him chuckle again. Picking it up, he put it in his mouth, chewed a couple times, then swallowed, but resisted making a face. "I wasn't planning on taking any, but you have to eat what's on your plate. It's rude not to."

He scanned the table, taking in each food dish and sorting through his memory. Normally, he knew by heart what he liked and what he didn't -- to hell with whatever it was called -- and didn't have a need to name it. Of course, as any respectable Pureblood (that is to say, as Peter or Mary) he had to know, had to name each dish, in order to compliment them. (How many times he had to say The caviar is particularly flavourful and fresh; wherever did you get it? The last time my servant purchased some it had too much salt was astounding.)

But more than just names, Bruce realised, he'd have to list the ingredients; Ivy might not know what 'beignets' were. That also wasn't a problem, although he wasn't sure he wanted others overhearing him going into such detail of dishes; it wasn't proper for a Pureblood male his age to know.

He glanced around once, making sure nobody was nearby save per Ivy, and then back to the table. "Walk with me," he said. It came out soft, as he intended, but gentle instead of commanding. He took a step forward, nodding at the first dish as he did. "Devilled eggs; eggs with mashed yolk. I believe this has celery and scallop mixed in. This just tastes like egg." He took another step. "Blue cheese and bacon in lettuce. I don't like cheese, but it's popular among most females." Another step. "Blue crab meat in dough, deep fried. I like this."

He glanced around once more, and then continued down the line. "Spinach in puff pastry. If you like spinach, it's nice. Fried potato. Some has cheese inside, this doesn't. Roasted oyster with..." He frowned slightly. "It's either green bell pepper, or jalapeños. Knowing the head of this family, it's probably the latter. I don't like oysters. Meatballs, with a twist. I can't be sure until I've eaten one. It might be cheese or it might be bacon. It's never just meatball. Thin slices of bread with salmon and bell peppers; this is my favourite. Bacon on figs. It's a weird combination. I don't mind it. You've already become acquainted with caviar -- fish eggs on toast. Beef skewers with onion and tomato, another of my favourites. Assorted seafood on toast -- that's tuna, that's shrimp, that's crab, and that's... I'm not certain. Either mussel or scallop."

He turned, pointed towards a table on the opposite side of the room. "If you don't feel adventurous, I suggest the dessert table. One can only be mildly creative with cake and pastries at best. There's chocolate mousse and puffs and assorted fruit tarts." He smiled at her, before realising with a sudden drop of his stomach that he'd supposedly just arrived, and had headed straight for the food; he hadn't actually been to the dessert table. Quickly backtracking, without letting the smile or his attitude change, Bruce added, "At least, that's what they had the last time. As I said, mildly creative. They don't change menu for dessert often." He paused again, then glanced at his empty plate and back to her. "Once you get home, you can ask your cooks or house elves to make you something. I know Henry will have a pasta waiting for me upon my arrival."

Posts : 23 Join date : 2017-08-25

Something seemed to change in Bruce when she posed the question of how exactly to test the observation. He was still pleasant, sure. It was only the observed minor shift in the way that he smiled at her, and the slight pause in conversation that made it seem as though he was treading carefully with what he said. Still, he continued on about some of the things he did, tests to prove what observations were correct.

"I'm guessing that following someone would be a last resort, right?" She'd followed people before. Not to test any sort of observation or anything like what Bruce was talking about. Rather, she'd followed people that looked vulnerable. Followed people into crowds and slipped her hands into their pockets. Quickly. In and out and then she'd be off. She was good at it, she had light steps. She liked to think she was somewhat like smoke, when she wanted to be.

When he questioned what bubbly was, she shrugged "Booze. Like fizzy wine or something. Mrs. Wool always called it bubbly," she replied.

She walked with him, down the table, as he listed all the foods that were presented on the table. One or two things piqued her interest. Some of the blue cheese with bacon and lettuce... Spinach puff, fried potato (it was basically like a chip, kind of), another beef skewer that Bruce had offered her, because it was surprisingly delicious, some meatballs too. She wasn't overly adventurous with her selection, scrunching her nose up when he mentioned the oyster.

"Ugh no, I can't stomach oyster, it looks too much like snot honestly," she shuddered.

He went on, coming back to the stuff that he'd taken from her plate "Those are fish eggs?" she said, a little too loudly, without realising it "Like unborn fish? Have they been fertilised? Because that's just like eating fish period and sperm," she added, confident in her judgement not to eat any of it "I mean, who even thinks of that? 'Oh, let's just eat fish eggs,'". She asked. The thought seriously grossed her out.

"Oh yeah," she murmured in response to his comment about getting the staff to make her something "I feel weird asking though," she added, beginning to eat a meatball.

Posts : 22 Join date : 2017-09-07

He shook his head at her question, once. Following someone wasn't the best way, if the person you were following was smart or had experience with lies. He, for example, had multiple sneakascopes at home, and charms placed on many of his items. If someone tried to follow him or check his stuff, chances are he'd find out -- of course, not everything was foolproof, and for what magic couldn't accomplish, he had Henry to help.

But following someone was usually the smart thing to do most of the time; there was nothing quite like seeing firsthand. "There is no such thing as 'last resort'," he said. "You do what needs to be done. The last resort doesn't exist." It was what Henry had taught him, and what Bruce had come to believe. See, if you saw things as having a 'last resort', that meant there won't be any other way after that. That wasn't true. There were less preferable ways of doing things, and ways that were better than others, but in the end, it would get done.

He took in her comment and ran through his list of alcohol. "Champagne?" he asked -- asked, although he was sure. What else was there? He didn't mind it. He had plenty as his mother -- it was a woman's drink, not a man's -- and while the taste was odd, he got used to it rather quickly. In fact, he rather enjoyed it. It was much more pleasant than whisky or vodka, in any case. But Bruce knew nothing of these things, knew not what they tasted like, and so he merely smiled at her. "Mother likes it," he added. Or at least, she did.

He let out an amused puff of air at her comment. "Oyster can be nice. If it's grilled, it tastes delicious," he said. It was probably the most genuine conversation he'd had all evening -- and, quite possibly, at any Pureblood event -- and he was tempted to let his guard down. Tempted, but he wasn't stupid, and he kept it up as firm and as tall as ever.

Blinking, Bruce faltered for a moment. What could he say to that? He'd grown up eating fish eggs -- sushi and the like -- and found them to be rather delectable. He never once thought of them as how she just described it. "I suppose," he said, after a few moments of silence. "It's not that bad," he added, almost as an afterthought. It really wasn't, truthfully.

"Why?" he asked, before he could help himself. "They're hired for a reason. I mean, don't be rude about it -- hired people are still people, Henry always said -- but they are there to serve."

Posts : 23 Join date : 2017-08-25

"Huh," she tilted her head to the side at his response to the last resort comment "That's interesting," the more she thought about it, the truer it became. Perhaps it was because she'd never though of anything she's done as a last resort. She'd done what needed to be done to survive, though she'd never suspected she might have even come close to doing something that might have been, to her, a last resort. "Makes sense though," she added.

"Yeah, I guess," she shrugged at his suggestion that it was champagne. She'd tried a sip, and honestly, she didn't like it. She couldn't understand why people drank stuff like that. Maybe adults lost their taste buds or something. That explains why so many adults liked weird-tasting food.

He let out an almost-laugh at her comment about oysters "Well, do the grilled ones look less like snot?" she asked. Perhaps cooked oyster wouldn't be so bad "Isn't there a one where they put bacon on it? I'd eat that, probably," she replied.

Perhaps she'd overstepped with the fish egg comment, because he didn't seem to know how to respond. An awkward silence followed, before he decided to go for the least controversial response. She decided to drop the whole topic of caviar after that.

She shrugged again, "I don't know man," she replied "I've got hands, you know. Why get other people, or elves or whatever to do something for you when you can do it yourself? It seems lazy to me," she added. She was also just used to doing things herself. If she left it to other people, it wouldn't be done right, if at all back at the orphanage. It was hard to feel comfortable getting others to do things for her.

» Bruce Sanderson