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[never_promised]

A napkin message comes with Hal's meal: Tottenham vs. Chelsea @ White Hart Lane, on in five minutes.

Which is a little puzzling, admittedly, but he's fairly sure he knows what it means. So he takes his tray over to a corner of the bar that has a good angle on one of the larger viewing-box-screen-television-things, and settles down to wait.

Should he send Percy a note? No, that would just be...awkward. But maybe he'll show up anyway.

Comments

[never_promised]

"Good day to you, Percy." See, they're sort of like amiable companions! Hal has a good-sized spread before him, including a full bottle, and gestures to show that Hotspur is more than welcome to share.

[harryhotspur]

Harry doesn't reach for any of it just yet.

"What makest thou here?" It sounds almost like a perfectly ordinary greeting! And it doesn't sound at all like an accusation, which is definitely an improvement.

[never_promised]

It definitely could sound like an accusation. It definitely could. But it doesn't! So Harry nods. "I came to take a meal, and found a message to inform me of the game. 'Tis only now begun."

Percy looks like he's recovering nicely from their fight. Oh, well.

[harryhotspur]

"A message?" Harry sounds surprised. "From Madam Bar, or some other?"

[never_promised]

"Dame Bar, as I take it." He passes over the napkin. "...Or Madame, as the French might say."

[harryhotspur]

"And 'tis not long since all our court spoke it, too," Harry replies, pushing the napkin back after a cursory glance, after which he pointedly looks back to the TV. "Prattle if thou wilt, I would see the match."

[never_promised]

"And thou hast ever been known for thy courtly speech." Oh fine, fine, they can watch the game.

It's...

There's not really much happening there. Hal helps himself to another handful of snack mix. "Dost thou know much of this team, Chelsea?"

[harryhotspur]

"I--" He's so sure he remembers Feuilly mentioning them. But while he really, truly does listen with Feuilly waxes enthusiastic about international competition, countries coming together, and so on, he doesn't always remember it all after.

"--they, too, are of London, this I know."

[never_promised]

"Well, they are my team today. I put a bottle of wine on their victory, if thou wilt stand the same for thy Spurs."

Oh, look, one of them is about to--nope, never mind, not about to score.

[harryhotspur]

Harry is about to offer his usual protest that it's hardly a fair wager if he's putting up something that will cost him no more than a trip to the bar, but-- you know what, sure.

"A match." He offers his hand. "And shall I mock thee in thy turn, for the choice of so French a spirit?"

[never_promised]

"O, do!" He takes Percy's offered hand, brief and neutral. And remembers to keep quiet for another minute or two, to watch the match. "...dost thou ever play at tennis, Percy?"

[harryhotspur]

Harry tries to muster an irritated look at the interruption, but-- there is really not a lot going on this game, is there.

"Tennis? I have played it-- but twice or thrice, perhaps."

[never_promised]

"'Tis twice or thrice more than I had imagined. I did find a court here." He's not saying they should play, or anything. Just...on the off chance that Percy finds the tedium here as oppressive as Hal does, some days. "The balls are not the same, and they do make the rackets larger."

[harryhotspur]

Harry leans forward suddenly as-- nothing happens, never mind.

"Art much enamored, then, of tennis?" It makes sense, it's courtier's game, but-- he really has no idea how Hal passes his time here and in London, aside from drinking. And supposedly the occasional petty theft.

[never_promised]

Hal echoes the motion--less intensely, but there's the same tension of anticipation and then the release as it goes unsatisfied. "'Tis a sport as good as any other. Better than some, in winter-time."

[harryhotspur]

"I have ever disliked the winter," Harry says, which could perhaps be taken to mean something along the lines of 'and so it would be nice to have something to do.'

[never_promised]

"'Tis well to have somewhat indoors," Hal says, which could perhaps be taken to mean something along the lines of 'and so if you ever want to, like, we could.' "--O, have these knaves forgot where the goal is?"

[harryhotspur]

Harry snorts a laugh. "A sign, perhaps, of a pair well-matched."

And hey, speaking of inconclusive batterings... "How doth thy arm?"

[never_promised]

"They pass the ball among themselves like old women with some choice gossip, afraid to bring it to the front-- O, my arm doth well enough, my wrist will serve me for another campaign yet." There's an accompanying gesture, there. "--And thy jaw?"

[harryhotspur]

"More fearful of loss than eager to win," Harry agrees with no little derision. He rubs his hand down his cheek. "Ay, well, too. I am still made all of wonder at these fine devices-- what a battlefield surgeon might do with such tricks!"

[never_promised]

"'tis true," Hal says slowly. "'Tis true, and I have bethought me of--" He breaks off, shaking his head. He'll keep his thoughts. "But I must ask thee. Are all thy friends here Frenchmen?"

[harryhotspur]

"Not all," Harry protests, successfully forestalled from pursuing Hal's abandoned point. "--many, I would say. Most, perhaps."

[never_promised]

"Then thou art become a very diplomat."

Probably better not to push the point; they're trying to get along. Time to toss out another conversational ball. "--I did speak with a friend of mine own, who did tell me that I was not myself on All Saints' Eve. Another of these magics cast upon the place transformed me, and I knew it not. Has it happened to thee here?"

[harryhotspur]

Harry snorts. "'tis no diplomacy, they are not of our time. We talk not of--" Politics? Well, yes, they do. "--of matters which touch upon our England."

But at that, he looks startled. "Ay, it has and more than once-- and once upon that very day. We spoke, it seems, and knew one another."

[never_promised]

"And what makes up your conversation, thou and these French? I did speak with Bahorel--there's a man with no faith in kings." He glances sideways at Harry, seeing how this subject fares.

"--We spoke? Thou dost recall it?"

[harryhotspur]

Harry is-- not surprised to hear it. And not surprised that Bahorel did not hesitate to speak of it to Hal.

What do him and Feuilly talk about? Nothing he could possibly explain to Hal, that's for sure. So he decides to stick to the second question: "I recall only that we spoke. Naught of what was said-- nor, indeed, of who we were, though I am well assured I was not as I am now. We were-- of the future, it seems." He nods to the screen and adds, with a little grin, "I a football player, and methinks thou wert as well."

[never_promised]

"Were we! O, rare! My friend said only that I had a tattoo upon my arm." And something to do with his hair, but he's not quite clear on that. Aaaaand that he had been attempting to beguile her, but that's not something he's going to mention to Harry Percy ever. For many reasons. "A pity to forget it. To have that for our field?"

[harryhotspur]

"Wouldst prefer it?" Harry asks, and he tries not to make it sound condescending, he really does. "I had rather a field of battle, where true glory may be one, not this-- shadow of it."

[never_promised]

Oh, he can hear the condescension anyway. He'd expected it. "O, I would sicken of it, no doubt--in a year or two or three or four. But to have no other care than that ball and net, and to have the leading of some dozen tall well-fed fellows with no bare conscripts among the lot?"

It's not a bad thought.

[harryhotspur]

"--a better company, true," Harry has to concede. "Well paid and well fed, and glad enough to be there, by the look of them."

--well, maybe not the look of these in particular, who are now heading off towards halftime looking somewhat discouraged.