flybywash | (no subject)

She seems to approve, as much as any three-week-old child can approve, and Wash beams as he lifts out the mobile and squeezes one of the attached fish. "Look at that," he murmurs to his daughter as he holds it up. "You think this could beat my clothes in a knock-down drag out rainbowy brawl? I think it could."

He gently beeps her nose with it, and Naomi kicks her legs with a quiet, "Ah!"

Back to Tonks, with a decidedly wry twist to his mouth: "Well, uh. Mostly Simon and River getting hauled in by the feds and summarily hauled out again after a week."

"...Bloody hell. Well, um. At least they're out?"

Her knee jogs gently, bouncing the baby just a bit, and Tonks blinks dazedly.

"Must've been a funky alignment of star...thingies, for everything to come crashing around our ears at once like that."

"Shi a," he remarks dryly, and sighs. Lacing his hands behind his head with a determinedly light air, Wash adds, "And considering how much of my waking life I spend staring at the gorram things -- "

An embarrassed and guilty hitch to the sentence as he glances at Naomi. He's been trying not to swear around the baby. Really.

" -- you'd think I would've seen something, maybe a tiny dancing glowing sign of impending doom, but nope."

"I reckon it's better without the forewarning, anyhow."

A sigh, and then she half-smiles.

"Kids're with my mum and dad for the afternoon, and I was just gonna head over to check on Bernard --don't suppose you'd like to come with? Know he'd love to meet the baby, and you could give him the box yourself..."

"Yeah?"

He unlaces his hands and sits forward.

"Sure, I'd love to -- where's he staying? I just heard the part with the being hurt."

"He's at St. Mungo's, the wizarding hospital in London. It isn't a far walk from my door to the bar. Reckon he'd be glad for the distraction; his main form of entertainment seems to be heckling the Healers."

Wash's eyes widen.

Wizarding hospital. In London. Earth-That-Was and magic.

You know the 'EEEEEEEE' from earlier? It's his turn now.

"And I would be glad to distract -- " He doesn't quite jump to his feet, but he makes a good effort at it, grinning ear to ear. "Lead the way!"

It takes some wrangling, but soon they're strolling in the direction of the hospital, the sunny London afternoon warm but pleasant.

Nymphadora had dug up a sunhat of Anthony's for Naomi, and has the box tucked under her arm so that Wash can juggle the baby and cane more effectively.

"You've been to Earth before, right?"

"Once," says Wash, taking in the view with obvious admiration (and not a small amount of giddiness.) "Long while ago -- Faith took all of us to see New York and let us marvel in the weirdness of cheap fruit and combustion engines."

He tweaks the brim of Naomi's hat and whispers something in Chinese to her.

"Oooh, New York. I've only been once, but it was brilliant. Maybe Bernard and I can take the kids sometime, when they're older."

She glances sidelong at Wash with his daughter, and a soft smile creeps over her face.

"So how's it going, for you and Zoe? With the whole new baby thing, I mean."

He chuckles, settling a hand on Naomi's back. "It's...pretty much how everybody'd said it would be," he says. "Stressful and occasionally scary and really kind of fēng kuáng de and not something we're looking to trade, ever."

Beat.

"Everybody else on the crew says thank you for the silencing charms, by the way."

Nymphadora snorts a laugh. "Glad I could help. But yeah," she continues, smile softening. "I know how you mean. Zoe doing all right with the whole soldier-mummy thing?"

That's been more than a little tricky for Tonks herself.

Wash puffs out a breath, considering. "She had to bring Naomi into the bar for a little while when we went to get Simon and River back, which was...it ain't something she's crazy about, sitting out like that. But she did it."

And not once did Wash ever doubt that she would; they both knew the risks and sacrifices going into this. It's a gesture that speaks volumes anyway.

"Hm."

The hand that's not tucked around the box is shoved into her pocket, and Nymphadora walks along consideringly, directing Wash around the corner to the side street St. Mungo's is on.

"Had to do that a while back. Went to the House of Arch to stay. Hated it. But in the end I knew it was the only reasonable choice, and Bernard knew it too. So we dealt. Anyway. Glad you're doing all right with it, so far. And..."

She glances up to look Wash in the eye, dead serious.

"If you ever run into a spot where you need a safe place for Naomi to be for a bit, you know where we are."

Wash nods.

He's hoping things will get a little easier, with River and Simon no longer wanted fugitives -- ain't like they were easy before, but things took on a special brand of not-easy when the Tams boarded.

No way is he going to say that out loud and jinx it, though.

So instead he says, with full sincerity, "Thank you. I mean it. Knowing that is really, really good."

"'S all right. You'd do the same, I know."

'Dora reaches out to touch Wash's arm, slowing him to a stop.

"Here we are, then."

They're standing in front of an old, run-down department store -- Purge and Dowse -- the front window of which features an exceptionally ugly mannequin.

Wash stops.

Blinks.

Absently bounces Naomi a little as she makes a fussy noise.

"Please tell me this is a fiendish and clever disguise for the entire hospital and Bernard isn't, you know, actually that mannequin or anything."

Giggling, Nymphadora jostles Wash's shoulder a bit. "Silly. Yeah, it's a disguise. Can't have the Muggles just wandering in off the street, now can we? Present company excluded, of course."

The witch leans forward and addresses the nearest mannequin.

"We're here for Bernard Wrangle," she whispers, and the mannequin nods very slightly.

"Hi. I was just kidding about you being Bernard," Wash adds, also in an undertone, to the mannequin. He scratches the back of his head.

(What? It's alive, apparently. And maybe he just grieviously insulted it and might get smited by its plastic-y hands of justice. He's just covering all his bases.)

The mannequin appears to smirk, ever so slightly, and Nymphadora takes Wash by the elbow. "Right, so. Just... sort of ignore the fact that this is a glass window, and walk straight ahead."

"Shiny. Ignoring the window. Got it."

This does not stop him from putting a protective arm around Naomi as she shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, and starts walking forward.

And just like that, they're in the lobby.

It looks rather a lot like any other hospital, really; probably more like what Wash might see in a Core hospital, though, than anywhere else in Nymphadora's London.

"Wotcher, Betina!" 'Dora calls to the witch on duty at the desk, and the elderly lady gives her a friendly wave back as Nymphadora, Wash, and Naomi head in the direction of the private rooms.

Wash peeks an eye open once the hospital sounds (and smells) hit him. His arm relaxes, and he opens the other eye as well with a tiny grin, following Tonks.

The last time he was in a hospital was just before New Year's; it's bizarre how much this place looks like Marcus Medical Center.

"Am I supposed to be this disappointed that this looks so normal?" he murmurs to her. "I don't think I am."

"It is normal! Well, for me anyway-- oh, watch your head, there."

A memo in the form of a paper airplane whizzes overhead.

Wash ducks, then twists around to follow the plane's progress, all but beaming.

"See, that's more like it," he declares.