[ P ] houlihans at the holiday inn

The cycle of seasons brought opportunities the old soldier needed; as the days shortened patrol shifts were shuffled and adjusted, giving him more time in the twilit afternoons to work on his tavern. However, it was as much a warning as it was an offering... should he fail to wrap preparations up soon, Winter's cold and almost ever-present darkness will make it impossible to finish until the following year. It was a race against time and that made even the smallest inconveniences that much more stressful. And while some might say that there's no reason to rush anything, Grigori knew better than anyone the regrets of not doing everything you can, while you still can.

Today, he has received a delivery of furniture he had bought earlier. Alas, the aspiring tavern's doorstep was as far as the delivery went - arranging things inside would cost extra and budget was tight, not to mention he wasn't even sure how to arrange it all just yet. Still, moving everything inside proved to be simple enough... until he tried with the bookshelf.

A bookshelf might seem like an odd purchase for a tavern, and it certainly wasn't picked for utilitarian reasons. Books were expensive enough to keep them well and far away from places where they could get damaged easily, Aryth would likely break out in cold sweat at the mere possibility of ale spilling over one... but he would also be the one to say that a place that aims to offer comfort should have them. Perhaps a strict no drinks in the reading corner could help? Something to think about later. For now, the bookshelf itself was a problem.

It was big, heavy and unwieldy enough that it was difficult to move for a single wolf, even a sizable one like him. It kept on tilting and pivoting, always somehow managing to catch on the door frame no matter how many times Grigori tried to readjust. Before long he was grunting with effort and frustration alike, until his temper got the better of him. "Mother...fucker..!" He shoved the offending piece of furniture far harder than he should have, but luckily it suffered no damage even after making a very concerning noise. Still, he was no closer to getting it inside.
„*”

Aph had his own stresses to contend with this late in the year. With the end of it bearing down fast came the pressure of deciding what his next steps would be once it arrived, and he was no closer to knowing what his future looked like than he was the day he'd enrolled. There had been the thought to align himself politically, as an advocate for change, but the precarious peace of late made him hopeful that public opinion was evolving on its own. Far be it from him to fathom the intricate games played between kings anyway. He hadn't been born in time to see how they were orchestrated... only the aftermath.

Mathematics hadn't been able to ensnare his interest either. The possibility that he might find his strength in it as his late father had dwindled entirely no sooner had he entered the first class. Complex equations and wrong answers still plagued him in those rare instances sleep found him, face pressed against the slobbered-on pages of his notebook. Maybe he needed a new perspective, or a scenery change, or a bit of paternal advice... And besides, he missed his dad. There wasn't any other reason Aphelion needed to make an impromptu trip back home.

The sight that greeted him made his lips twitch, and beside him Friction tipped his head, button black nose in constant, curious motion. "Oi! Lettin' yehself go?" Aph approached his father then, patting his back in a gesture that was as playful as it was consoling. "Need a paw?"

TABLE BY AMANDA

The familiar voice of his son calling out to him with no warning, followed by a paw on his back, caught Grigori by surprise more than a little bit. He almost choked, then coughed once and straightened his posture as if he had everything under control. “Ehm, I.. marmalade! I just ‘membered I need to start workin’ on preserves.” His ears folded backwards while his eyes drilled holes into the bookshelf. There was no denying that he could have a bit of a foul tongue when caught up in the moment, but he certainly didn’t raise his boys to be like that. So getting caught by one of them like this was.. embarrassing.

“Don’t be silly, it’s way too big for ye...” As he turned to face the boy his voice trailed off, and he realized that wasn’t true at all - not anymore. “Dash, not too long ago ye were small enough to ride on my back.” He should have gotten used to that no longer being the case by now, but perhaps now that they were living separately, his mind has defaulted to earlier memories.

He couldn’t dwell on it more than that without risking getting sappy, so instead he moved to support the bookshelf from one side, leaving the other open for his son. “Aight then, ready when ye are.” The blonde brute was eager to get this over with, now that his thoughts were slowly catching up to the situation and he realized how glad he was for this surprise visit, and how he wanted to hear all about how Aphelion’s school life was going. Actually, to hell with it, why not start asking questions now? “Ciamar... a tha an, uh.. sgoil?” His gaelic was as slow and stuttery as ever, but he never would have been able to ask even this sort of simple question if not for all the times Aph had humored him with practice.
„*”

Aphelion's expression was purely amused, skin tightening around his smiling eyes. "Uh huh.... Likely story, heh." He'd always found it entertaining to watch his pop, this mountain of a man, fumble over what were, in the end, only words.

Struck with surprise at the suddenly reminiscent gaze, it was Aph's turn to look away, lest he too risk getting emotional. There would be no moving anything if they were both incapacitated by tears. Thankfully, Grigori shared that mindset and, like father like son, used action to outpace unwanted interactions, despite knowing they'd eventually catch up. "Well, if yeh really want, I can hop on ya after, eh?" He offered, entirely in jest, though just a bit curious if his dad could be baited by a precisely timed taunt.

Counting down, Aph (and even Frik, mustering all the strength his diminutive body had within it) shoved forward inch by inch. The progress was slow but he hardly noticed, shocked and elated as he was to be questioned in the country's mother tongue. It wasn't his natural language, though he'd heard it spoken all his life, but hearing it in his dad's voice was strangely familiar, comforting, like being embraced after being apart for so long. He smiled. "Tha an sgoil... math. Cruaidh. Ach tha mi ag ionnsachadh tòrr." (The school is... good. Hard. But I am learning a lot.) Aph was careful about speaking slow and keeping his sentences short, knowing that would make it easier to be understood.

Once they were inside and the bookshelf in place, and both men had caught their breath, he was able to finish the thought in their shared language. "I have t' decide what my focus will be. What I want to do the rest o' my life, really. And... I'm jes not sure what that is yet."

TABLE BY AMANDA

Grigori entertained the mental image for just a second, before dismissing it with a snort. Not one to lay down his weapons without a fight, he decided to tease the young wolf in turn. “At yer age it’s better to save this kinda offers for someone yer sweet on, son.” He said it with a completely straight face and an expectant tone, as if hoping for some sort of revelation. He knew full well that few things can fluster a youth more than a parental figure making any sort of inquiries into their relationship status. Grigori used to find it silly, but.. now he sort of understood. A parent wants to see their kids be happy, and what can compare to the kind of happiness one experiences when in love?

He didn’t expect Aph’s help to lighten his burden this much; he was prepared to still do most of the work while the boy only kept the bookshelf from pivoting like it did before.. but it turned out his son’s size wasn’t just for show. And fortunately so, because he could devote more of his attention to processing their conversation. “Mar a bu chòir a bhith.” (As it should be.) “Math... math.” (Good.. good.) Grigori noded to himself, seemingly agreeing thoughtfully, but the truth was he got a little distracted. Isn’t it funny that Aryth had named himself after a branch of science, that when shortened means ‘good’ in another language? He never knew how right he was, sometimes.

Once the cumbersome heap of wood was finally safely inside, the blonde brute rolled his shoulders and grunted in relief. “Ay, finally. Much obliged, son.” He turned to look at the boy with a smile, then quickly realized the topic of school was still on his mind.. and rather heavily so, too. “Ah.. seems awful early for a man to have to decide somethin’ like that, if ye ask me.” If it was him there, Grigori certainly wouldn’t be able to do it. So he wasn’t sure how much help he could be.. but he’ll try his best regardless.

He made his way behind the bar, first grabbing a small plate, then rummaging about until he found something to put on it - a bunch of dried blueberries. Then, he put the tiny meal down in front of the hedgehog. “Have at it, Frik. Ye must be hungry after walkin’ all the way here.” He offered the small critter a careful pat on his quills, then let him eat in peace. Now, for the two of them... Grigori pulled up two cups and looked at the albino wolf, raising an eyebrow. “If yer old enough to help yer old man with heavy furniture, I reckon yer old enough to try some ale too. Always found it easier to talk ‘bout adult problems over a drink... sounds good?”
„*”

Aph's natural pink complexion flared into an intense, burning red upon his father's clever retaliation. Forget a rug—the whole planet was swept from beneath his robust paws. He stumbled, thankful to be relying so heavily on the bookrack, and sputtered sounds that were obviously attempting to resemble words but never completed more than the beginning syllables. "Ah—er—n—Pa!" Finally, speech returned, exasperation causing an embarrassingly shrill cry.

Perhaps the implication would be more bearable had Aph experienced love in its youthful intensities. Alas, he hadn't yet—nor was he sure he ever would. The closest he'd ever gotten had been how awkward he'd become to be complimented by a total stranger, and that stemmed more from the shock factor than genuine gratitude. Aph couldn't imagine his unremarkable appearance turning any heads, and he was completely fine with that.

But it had been nice to be thought of as beautiful, even if it was only once.

Those immature woes he'd keep to himself though, because one thing teenagers wanted less than their parents making lewd jokes was hearing platitudes rooted in unavoidable bias.

Thankfully, the task at paw could monopolize his attention. It was tedious work, ensuring the shelf made it inside without issue; there was only one close call when it met a raised board and threatened to flatten all three mammals without mercy. Grigori's grunts of effort entwined with his thoughtful, somewhat absentminded muttering soon abated his son's residual embarrassment, and exhaustion burned it from memory just as quickly. Frik, too, fell victim to the energy expended, then perked right up at the offering set before him and circled the plate once, twice, all while chittering excitably, before setting into the meal.

Aph turned his fond smile from the hedgehog to his pop, the expression brightening at his words. "Yeh, that does sound nice, actually. What's it taste like?" He couldn't reserve his curiosity long enough for Grigori to serve the beverage, propping himself on the counter and leaning across it, eager to see his old man at work. Something he'd never gotten to do as a child, despite always longing to follow the soldier when he reported for duty.

TABLE BY AMANDA

With a deep laugh, Grigori couldn’t help but find amusement in how flustered the boy got.. but he felt a little sorry for him, too. He knew what it’s like to be on that end of the stick, and it’s only thanks to an unfair advantage in age and experience that he didn’t need to worry about it now. He wasn’t exactly the nimblest wolf out there, be it action or in speech.. and yet he had managed to trip Aryth up with some light teases many times. If their sons have inherited such vulnerabilities from both of them, the blonde brute could only imagine what a wild ride social interactions must be for them.

Aphelion’s youthful naivete continued to brighten the evening, this time with a question about ale’s taste, of all things. Grigori couldn’t say when was the last time he’d seen anyone contemplate such a thing. At most, people might remark on how a drink is good or bad, but never elaborate on why.. and for most, the effects are more important than the taste, anyway. “Hmmm.. Bitter. A tad bready, maybe.” He wasn’t exactly painting the most compelling picture, was he? It only gets worse from here.. “When it’s bad, folk tend to say it tastes like piss. Horse piss, if they’re not mincin’ words. But, uh, I hope mine’s better than that.” Without further delay, he started to pour their drinks, devoting nothing short of steely focus to the task. He could never forget the chicken he had dropped straight into fire during his culinary training at the palace’s kitchen, and the last thing he needed was to give his own son a show of that sort of spectacular clumsiness.

Thankfully, no disaster unfolded, and when their cups were full he leaned in to take a close look at them, before nodding to himself in satisfaction. Once he starts getting customers, the servings need to be consistent. It’s a lot more details to worry about, compared to merely feeding yourself. “I don’t think yer gonna like it, it’s somethin’ that takes some gettin’ used to.” Seemed prudent to point that out, it would be nothing short of ridiculous if Aph had forced himself to praise his first beverage simply because it comes from his father’s tavern.. that’s not even open for business yet. “Well.. to yer future, then.” Grigori smiled softly, and took a hearty swig.
„*”