tu_vas_triompher | (no subject)

(no subject)

This new Harry isn't going to be permanent, right? This is all one of those temporary Milliways things? It's Halloween, so Harry Hotspur of the 15th century is a Tottenham Hotspur of 2015 for the moment, and soon he'll be himself again. Right?

The alternative to optimism on this point being panic and despair, Feuilly is doing the only sensible thing, which is to take the amiable and vaguely...shiny...Harry Percy of the future out to hit things with practice swords.

--and hell, if it's his chance to win a playful skirmish or two, he's not above taking it.

"All right," he says cheerily, when they get to the yard near the stable. "Do you know how to hold it?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Right. Yeah." Poke, poke goes the tip of his sword in the grass. "I mean, I was just-- we probably had more in common if I was, like, a knight or whatever you know so I just wasn't sure if-- I dunno, if things were different and all."

...it's not quite clear from his tone whether that means things are the same. Or if he's talking around the same thing Feuilly is.

That's a remarkably uncommunicative collection of phrases, Harry. It has a somewhat distancing effect. Feuilly picks lifts up his practice sword again, and picks some bits of grass and mud off the tip. "I don't know. I don't know if things are different. In your time--now, the future--"

He'd thought that in 2015 people were all very open about everything. But--well, Harry, alive, is still evidently married to Kate, very much so. That's not something to intrude on. If--when--his Harry comes back, they can figure this out then.

"At any rate," he says firmly, with a little nod. "We're friends. --You let me talk about Poland. And uh. I mean. For a knight, an English knight, you're all right. You even talk about republicanism with Enjolras. --A little."

"Well, I mean, things are different, obviously," Harry says with a mostly convincing laugh. "I still haven't managed to figure out how to explain to Enjolras why we still have a queen. I guess I don't really know why." But admitting that would be conceding defeat!

--that's totally what Feuilly was referring to, right?

Feuilly laughs, maybe a little more convincingly. "'Tradition' is not a good enough answer. --So--I'm guessing you're very good? At football? Um, striking fear into the other team?"

"I mean, you know, it takes a lot of--" Oh, don't PR-speak for Feuilly. Even if it is a Feuilly that doesn't seem to know him. "--Yeah. I am."

His grin is cheerful and uncomplicated. "I bet." Some things must hold true across Milliways' caprices. "Do you--do you want to put the swords away, get a football? --I mean, you don't have to, I--"

Harry can't help but grin back, and go a little pink. "Yeah, well-- after saying that, I'd better prove it, I guess."

"You'd better." He carefully, gently, brings his practice sword up and taps the point to the center of Harry's chest. "I win? Now you can see how bad I am with a football."

He stumbles dramatically back a few paces, clutching his chest, then says, "It's way easier than all this!"

"Sure. If you're good at it. You've been doing this since you were a kid?"

Well, maybe there's hope for Feuilly. But he anticipates a good bit of embarrassment first.

Harry nods. He swings the sword up to rest it against his shoulder and nods towards Milliways-- shall we?

"I didn't say it was easy to be good, just that anybody can kick a ball..."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only