It comes as a surprise to no one except Nate that Sophie dated and then conned, or perhaps it was the other way around, a Ravenclaw once.
Parker immediately plonks herself on the floor listening to the intent, complicated conversation between Sophie and Shacklebolt with the delighted air of a child who is finally being told a bed time story involving things blowing up instead of fuzzy bunnies.
Nate should be listening to the debriefing session as well, but instead he is hiding behind a large roll of blueprints, a sheaf of parchment, and a very large glass of whiskey. Shacklebolt generously assumes he is dealing with the shock of knowing magic exists. Everyone else more accurately realises that he is sulking about a factor he cannot control.
Hardison, meanwhile, has followed Elliot into the living room. Elliot is methodically dousing the fire that should not have been able to exist in the fake decor fireplace in the first place.
He is doing so with a wand.
Hardison says nothing.
"Did you know?" Elliot growls, without turning around.
"Hey, man," Hardison says with an odd sort of gentleness in his voice, the kind that might come from caution, or sadness. "At least you chose to leave."
When Elliot glances over his shoulder with eyes narrowed in sudden comprehension, Hardison shrugs and grins wryly, "At least they call us geeks instead of squibs, here."
ZOMG THE GRAIL, IF YOU ARE TRYING TO SNEAK MERLIN IN HERE I WILL DIE, MISSY
Parker immediately plonks herself on the floor listening to the intent, complicated conversation between Sophie and Shacklebolt with the delighted air of a child who is finally being told a bed time story involving things blowing up instead of fuzzy bunnies.
Nate should be listening to the debriefing session as well, but instead he is hiding behind a large roll of blueprints, a sheaf of parchment, and a very large glass of whiskey. Shacklebolt generously assumes he is dealing with the shock of knowing magic exists. Everyone else more accurately realises that he is sulking about a factor he cannot control.
Hardison, meanwhile, has followed Elliot into the living room. Elliot is methodically dousing the fire that should not have been able to exist in the fake decor fireplace in the first place.
He is doing so with a wand.
Hardison says nothing.
"Did you know?" Elliot growls, without turning around.
"Hey, man," Hardison says with an odd sort of gentleness in his voice, the kind that might come from caution, or sadness. "At least you chose to leave."
When Elliot glances over his shoulder with eyes narrowed in sudden comprehension, Hardison shrugs and grins wryly, "At least they call us geeks instead of squibs, here."