Beth sighs, and slumps against Thistle. "Thanks, Thist. Ongoing fight with mum about it has me all worn out."

"Yeah. Well, mum has to learn that the glory days of her youth are over and her children aren't gonna be bougie lords." 

"Yeah. You'd make a terrible Lady Amell. For one, your last name is Hawke."

"Lady Hawke, bouncer at the local pub. Sounds great."

Beth laughs, and then squeezes Thistle once before letting her go. 

Come on. I've got the credit card, and you need some new clothes. 

Thistle pretends to shiver. Time to play living Barbie doll again?

I know you secretly love it. You cannot hide from me.

With that, Beth loops her arm in Thistle's and drags her back into the Underground. 

Dermot continues to struggle with classes. He's finally figuring out some tricks to stay on top of the faster paced stuff, but it's the more gradual spells that he can't handle. Focusing on that much magic for an extended length of time always goes wrong, somehow. He finally manages to get somewhere with Decumbiture- but External Circumstances will sink his GPA more than enough to make up for it.

He's not looking to study. He's looking to do something fun. That's how he ends up on the sports field. It's for Welter's, which he barely knows anything about- it's not televised, and the one time his dad took him to a game, he wanted to tear his hair out from boredom. Still. Better than feeling stupid because he can't figure out why bird migration should have anything to do with his light spell. So. Sports. He's out on the sea, looking around for someone he knows to rope into playing a pickup game with him.

"Dermot!" Oshin waves at him from a ways off, as she pushes her way down the path.

"Hey! Looking to play some Welter's? Don't know the rules, so we won't have any."

"Eh, most of it's improv anyway. And I'm always down to flex some magic."

Dermot sets up the board. They take turns, obviously, casting their way across. Every completed square feels like an accomplishment- he's not doing well in any of his classes, but he can do some magic. He's not completely hopeless.

The way Oshin tears through her squares is like she’s been practicing for Welter’s all her life. Which is, of course, impossible.

“You’re falling behind, Derm!” She ribs, grinning. 

"How many times have I told you not to call me that?"

Dermot completes his squares without much creativity; whatever the most obvious interpretation of the square's symbol is, he takes it. This leaves him with a longer path to victory, while Oshin...he's got no chance. He settles for cracking bad jokes to make her laugh.

And laugh she very much does! He gets her, more than anyone in this place. Magic is a means to an end, not something to be honoured and gasped about. 

"You make me laugh so I fuck up, don't even try to lie," she scolds, completing another complicated tut with ease. 

"I'm multi-talented. I can make you laugh so you don't win and lose badly at the same time."

“You are a man of many talents, it’s true. Maybe that way we can lose together.”

"How do you figure out the squares so fast, anyway? This uses way too much brain for a sport."

“It’s actually less about figuring out and more about feeling. Like, there’s what you see, the symbol, and what that evokes in you. Once you know how, it’s like riding a bike!”

She assumes. 

"Huh."

He...tries that?

That seems to improve his game immediately, although not by much. Oshin continues to dominate.

She has a very, very unfair advantage, but she wasn’t about to go easy on Dermot. She feels like he’d be more annoyed by that than anything else.

 “How’s the rest of your classes going? You planning on staying the full three years?”

"Not sure I've got another choice. 'm not good at much. Besides, I'm kind of here for my sister. Sneaking out magical secrets," he whispers conspiratorially.

Oshin perks up at that, eyes bright. “Oooooh? She a hedge?”

"...yeah," he says unconvincingly. "A hedge," he repeats, with the air of someone who believes they may be talking about topiary and doesn't want to ask.