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[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly had, of course, sworn to fight at Harry's side in the matter of the dishes. Or, if Harry prefers, to lend moral support from nearby. He...hadn't really sworn to get up before dawn to do this, if only because Harry had neglected to explain his cunning scheme.

So it's his usual breakfast time when Feuilly comes down to the common room, his laptop under his arm, and pokes his head into the kitchen. And blinks to see Harry already there. "--When did you start?"

Uh, and good morning and stuff, that too.

Comments

[tu_vas_triompher]

Shrug. "I'm just reading from here."

He grins to himself at the question. Right. "Their emblem is a cockerel standing on a football--hm. Colors, white and navy blue." It looks white and black on the television screen, but the other team is in red and blue, so. There you go. Tottenham Hotspur.

"Does it say the score?"

[harryhotspur]

It takes him a moment of searching the screen to notice the little box in the top corner.

"Neither for either, if that is the score," he says, pointing.

He props his chin on his hands, coffee and bagel momentarily forgotten. "It looks not like football."

[tu_vas_triompher]

...hm. No points. All right. Plenty of running around, though.

"What should it look like?"

[harryhotspur]

"More people. More kicking. Kicking each other," he clarifies. There's lots of kicking the ball going on.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Ah." At the moment, they seem to be sending the ball more or less back and forth? "Kids play something like it in France, too. But not so--" Not so big and bright. Just, you know, kids kicking a ball around, if someone has a ball or a reasonable equivalent.

Hm.

He goes back to the Wikipedia page. Are these Tottenham Hotspur people...good at football?

[harryhotspur]

"It is played very oft for Shrove Tuesday-- betwixt parishes. Some do come to look, but not--" He waves his hand at the screen. "Not so many as this. --what, is't done?"

They seem to be stopping, though Harry can't see any reason why. "Half time," he echoes after one of the commentators. Huh.

[tu_vas_triompher]

There are a lot more people in the world than there used to be. But yes, it's quite a crowd, bigger than Paris theaters.

Feuilly looks up again. "'Half Time?' I'll look that up. But here--you have a long-standing rivalry. With some players called Arsenal. Probably not the same as parish games, but--" Hey, Harry knows who to...cheer against...?

[harryhotspur]

"That man-- that man who wears no colors, he would not let them hit each other." It is plain from Harry's tone that he finds this simply disgraceful.

He edges over to peek over Feuilly's shoulder again.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"They probably have rules against it," Feuilly points out, the voice of tedious reason. "But here--" He taps the screen. "There's your motto, To Dare is to Do, and here's your, um. Rivals." He clicks the link. "Is that who they're playing now?"

The voices talking over the game keep saying something about Crystal Palace, but presumably that's the grand building that holds the game.

[harryhotspur]

"Nay, they bear the wrong colors. These they face are parti-colored blue and red, this here--" He pokes at the screen. "'tis red and white."

Harry leans his chin on Feuilly's shoulder. "Audere est facere-- ay, 'tis very well. I would say very strange, and yet-- sure we had such great ado for tournaments. Though this is no joust." You can't even hit each other!

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly leans back into him. "No, it's very--it's not like anything I can think of, exactly." It's not gentlemen's dueling, it's not a fight, it's busier than bowling, but more spread out than tennis-- He pushes back his hair. "I think they'd be watching a play, in Paris."

It's not a value judgment, it's just the closest he can come to naming the spirit of the crowd watching the game.

And oh--right--half time. Unsurprisingly it turns out to mark the halfway point of the game. And that article leads to another link--this is enjoyable once you get the hang of it-- "Played by 250 million players in over 200 countries. 200 countries!"

[harryhotspur]

"I could not name two hundred countries," Harry says dubiously. "I did not think there were two hundred countries on earth."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"I--" He's already counting on his fingers, and folds his hands together to stop. "I don't know that I could either. But it's--there's an International Federation--"

That's probably less interesting to Harry than it is to Feuilly. "There's a, a link, to the rules--oh, but a World Cup, that must be a, a competition amongst all countries--!"

[harryhotspur]

Harry turns to try and hide his grin against Feuilly's shoulder. He nuzzles against Feuilly's neck, just a little: Feuilly is being a dork, how is any man to resist?

"A great contest, I do not doubt," he says. A idea strikes him, and he straightens up. "O, but thou needst must see-- who fared the better, England or France?"

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly makes an entirely unconscious mmmming noise at that. "I wonder if they really all play--hmm? Oh--ha. Yes, all right, Harry."

He reaches behind himself to swat at Harry before looking it up, though. "I--hm--if I'm reading this right--" Is he? There are diagram sas complicated as anything you'd expect for, oh, for delineating the governing bodies of a nation-- "I--ah. Sorry, Harry. I think France came seventh, and England--"

He keeps scrolling down.

[harryhotspur]

Harry tries to duck out of the way, then gives Feuilly a jab to the shoulder in return.

It takes Harry a minute to even figure out what the diagram is saying, but once he does, he scowls.

"I have never heard tell of the half of these places," he mutters.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Many of them didn't have their independence in my time. Algeria--" Mmh. "Greece did well--I don't see Poland listed--"

There's a change in the crowd noise and he looks up: are they playing again?

[harryhotspur]

"But three quarters of an hour and they must pause to rest?" Harry asks with disdain. "And there-- some have surrendered and sent others in their place. And this a sport for men!"

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly shakes his head; he has no answer. Except-- "Women play too. There's women's teams, it says. I don't know if it's much the same, or--" Or what.

But he's watching with more attention now: seeing the players and the names on their shirts, he's intrigued. These two London teams look very international themselves. Lloris--is that a Catalan name? And--Son? More hunt-and-peck typing brings up a list of names, and nationalities with it. And-- "Eh. Eh, Harry. The Hotspur captain is French!"

HA. (But also...look at this, look at all these men from all over the world, joining together as a team!)

[harryhotspur]

Harry snorts and jabs at Feuilly with his elbow. "But none Polish?"

Though the details of the rules are still lost on him, he's finding that it's not hard to get swept up in the rhythm of the game anyway-- he finds himself impulsively starting up when the ball seems near to hitting one of the nets at last, only to be batted away.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Well--" He holds his breath unconsciously, then lets it when the ball bounces away from the net. "--no, none Polish."

Oh, damn, his coffee is getting cold. And his bagel. He gets back to them, but with his eyes increasingly on the screen.

[harryhotspur]

"I had best return to the washing," Harry says absently, making no move whatsoever to do so.

Hey, the ball goes in! But-- it went in wrong? Or something? Everyone seems angry?

"What-- wherefore--"

[tu_vas_triompher]

"It went in!" He elbows Harry indignantly. "It went in--we saw it! Are they blind, keeping the score?"

[harryhotspur]

"They all saw it," Harry says, gesturing in the general direction of the crowd. "If he cannot see, why does he not inquire of them?"

He shakes his head. "I understand it not. I like not this man."

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly mutters something unintelligible and brings his laptop closer. "You watch-- I'm going to see if I can find out--"

The football went into the net but the team did not score, why? he types carefully, and his frown deepens. None of these articles that come up seems to have any bearing on the situation.

He's going to have to learn all the rules, isn't he.