. . .
"Embarrassment isn't a just cause of action."
—Jodi Picoult
. . .
"NO! Oh, gods, no! No, gods, please, no. NO. NOOOOOO–!" Alastor keeps on repeating these few choices of words like a parrot that has completely lost its marbles. Or better yet, he was just trying to psyche himself into erasing the memories from last night through sheer force of will.
Seriously, why the flying fuck-sauce he remembered this shit while he ended up forgetting his important talk with Winters?! WHY?!
IT'S SO UNFAIR!
...but this is it.
He's done. He's completely done for. It's over. His life is over. He's fallen deep in a hole that he put himself into, a grave that he's dug with his own hands no less.
Alastor is so never going to live this down (at least Harry wasn't here to bear witness to Alastor's most major screw up just to laugh at him in the face) and Winters will never look at him the same way for as long as he live and THAT'S IT.
HIS LIFE IS OFFICIALLY OVER–!
William places a comforting hand on his shoulder, making Alastor look up at the kid, practically on the verge of tearing up. It's his pride alone that keeps the tears at bay and...!
Much to his horror, William's eyes suddenly rounded as he intentionally lowers his voice in a completely awful rendition of what was supposedly Alastor's voice: "If being sexy was a crime, you'll be so guilty as charged," ...and the little traitor practically killed what was left of his dignity when it was immediately followed by:
"You're so beautiful I forgot my next pick-up line."
"You monster." he utters, breathlessly.
"And you are stupid and a complete dork... since we're now stating obvious things just for the heck of it," William easily retorts, lips curling into a savage smile that Alastor did not like one bit.
On the bright side, at least this isn't Harry.
Or even worse—his twin, Alistair.
Alastor shudders at the mere thought.
Just imagining this prized, blackmail worthy material his older brother could get his hands on to and effectively use against Alastor is such a horrifying thought that no one should ever dare to entertain lest chaos ensues. Because Alistair, for all his apparent niceties (compared to the two of them, at least), plays the role of 'the good twin' and 'the evil twin' quite so seamlessly sometimes... in the worst of times.
Meanwhile, William snickers at the werewolf's apparent misery, completely dry of any mercy he usually extends to Alastor.
What the actual fuck.
William spread his arms about, grinning from ear to ear like he was some classy showman at the almost comical look of despair on Alastor's face, "Oh, but it's just so easy to mess with you Al. I can't resist—and it brings much needed joy to my soul!"
He scowled, "Sadist."
"Why thank you!"
"That wasn't a compliment!"
"Well, I'll take it as is!"
Alastor snorts, "No wonder you don't have a girlfriend."
William raises an eyebrow, "Who says I don't?"
