Chapter 3 - Sorry I Ran You Over!

"It doesn't make sense," Otto said, cocking his head. "Why are two-thirds of your dishes some variation of 'Leaky House Soup'?"

"Hm? Oh, that?" Mrs. Longbottom said, cocking her head. "I don't really know. The menu was just...like that when I became owner, I suppose."

"Why are they all different prices?" he added. "They're literally just soup."

"No one actually orders them. It's the name, I suppose."

"I dunno," Otto said, sniggering. "I'd order 'Soup, Soup, Soup' anyday!"

"Glad to hear you say that!" Mrs. Longbottom said, smiling. "We do have waffles, if you want them, though."

"But-" Otto sputtered playfully. "It's not on the menu!"

"Hey, if I can make it, you can order it!" she said with a wink. "And if you can order it, you can also pay for it, too. Gotta make a living around here, after all."

Otto grumbled a little bit, trying to play the part of "disgruntled customer". He fished out the little bag of spending money Mr. Talbot had given him that morning, and counted out three Sickles.

"An order of 'House Soup Leaky'," he whispered, leaning over the counter and sliding the money to Mrs. Longbottom. She accepted it, a mischievous look on her face. Otto lowered his voice to just above a breath. "Could you put peanut butter and whipped cream on that?"

"Anything you want, luv."

"Thanks."

She stepped away from the counter, scribbling his order onto a pad of paper. She folded it into a paper airplane, and threw it across inn!

The airplane soared over the tables and the heads of the eating customers (It did a barrell roll!) and zipped into the window to the kitchen, unfolding itself and landing neatly onto the order rack.

"I...don't do that trick when Muggles are in the shop," Mrs. Longbottom explained, blushing slightly. "It'll only be a moment."

With that, she excused herself, abandoning her post at the register and entered the kitchen.

Otto waited.

And waited.

After about five minutes, he tired of waiting.

He looked around for Gilbert, but as expected, he was nowhere to be seen. This morning, he'd evidently made a couple of friends and had notified Mr. Talbot that they were heading out to Diagon Alley early.

This had meant he'd left Otto behind, still asleep in bed.

It wasn't fun, as one might expect, to feel abandoned.

That didn't matter! He didn't need Gilbert to have a good time! He could learn about the Wizarding World and get his supplies and go to Hogwarts and do his homework ALL. BY. HIMSELF.

He waited angrily (and hungrily) for his waffles to get done, finding an empty table for himself. Seething, he pulled out a book, and began to read.

Talbot had given it to him. ("To help ease the transition into the Wizarding World!") Mostly though, Otto had needed something to ease the sense of boredom, should it come.

Luckily boredom was easily staved off. Which Owl? by Miranda Goshawk was an absolutely thrilling read. No, really. It was quite fascinating. He could feel himself already starting to gravitate towards a Barn Owl. They were simply so cool, and elegant in their own right!

He shook himself. (No. Anger! It's time to be mad at Gil, remember?)

But the owls-

(No buts!)

He sighed, closing the book and twiddled his thumbs, trying to work himself back up to it. Gilbert was a traitor! He left him all alone! He-

"Here's your order of 'House Soup Leaky'!" Mrs. Longbottom said, derailing his train of thought. Otto looked back up at her gratefully, accepting the hot plate of waffles.

As he dug his fork into the stack of waffles, he decided to stop being angry. Gilbert had his reasons, and...

Otto took a bite, opening up his book as he chewed methodically. (Ever so careful to avoid dripping on the pages.)

He knew that they wouldn't be together forever, inseparable like they were as children. Indistinguishable, even though Gilbert's almost-white platinum blonde hair made it hard for Otto to justify that particular claim.

They'd always be brothers, but...Gilbert wasn't obligated to hang out with him all the time. He was his own person.

He sighed, closing his book. Apparently, no reading was getting done anytime soon.

He took another bite of waffle, scraping the remaining drips of peanut butter and whipped cream off of the plate, and leaving a small pile of Knuts by the plate as a tip. (According to Mr. Talbot, that was about what twenty percent of three Sickles was. A bit of a pittance, really.)

Otto, scooping up his book and his backpack, walked across the dining room? (Was it a dining room?) to where Mr. Talbot was polishing off his eggs and bacon.

"Ah, Otto! Are you ready to head out down to Diagon Alley?"

"Yes, Herr Talbot. Gilbert won't be joining us, by the way."

"Yes, yes. I heard. I sent him off ahead with his allowance, already."

"Then..." Otto said, shifting slightly, clutching his book tighter. "Can we go now?"

Mr. Talbot held up a finger, swallowing the last bite of runny egg. (Sheesh, the man couldn't do anything neatly, could he?) "There! Now I'm ready! Let's be off!"

He and Otto marched through to the back of the pub. There was a trash bin, Otto noted. So far, rather impressive.

"Watch carefully, as I won't repeat it again," Mr. Talbot said, pulling out his wand. He tapped it on the bricks, after a sort of counterclockwise fashion.

Once Mr. Talbot removed his wand from the brick wall, Otto watched in wonder (who wouldn't? The wonders of the magical world never cease to amaze him!) as the bricks drew in on themselves, pulling apart to reveal a doorway.

At this point, there could be no holding back.

Otto barrelled into the crowd like a bullet leaving a gun, giving poor Mr. Talbot no hope to catch up. He threaded through crowds, trying to take in every sight possible, all at once.

He needed this. How had he lived without this? He didn't blame Gilbert for wanting to leave early, almost.

All around him, he could hear the snippets of conversations, causing him to stop for a second as he absorbed the world around him.

"-have you seen the Nimbus's new line of broomsticks? The Zephyr looks really fast-"

"-Mum, we needed a pewter cauldron! Honestly, why do I even let you do the shopping-"

"-want to get some ice cream after this? I hear some bloke's reopened Fortescue's-"

"-Look out!"

Before he had time to react, a cart rammed into him, nearly running him over. Otto let out a huff of air, the breath suddenly pushing out of him, and left him dazed and winded. The driver stopped in shock, running to his side.

Otto's face scrunched up, trying to block out the twinge of pain from his side. Scheiße! That smarted, ow!

"Oh mio Dio, are you alright?!" they said, shaking him frantically. "Oh, no, I've killed him! I've killed him I've killed him I've-"

Otto laid stunned. Why were they freaking out so much? Did someone die? Who did they kill? What was going on?

The owner of the cart was bent over him, breathing dangerously near to the point of hyperventilation, trying to jostle him to his feet.

It clicked.

(Ahh, so that was what was going on!)

"I-It's alright!" Otto sputtered, putting up his hands. "I'm fine, see?"

"That doesn't fix things! I-I-" they said, a few tears coming to their eyes, causing Otto to come to his knees in alarm. "I still hit you-"

"Woah, uh, don't cry!" he yelped in shock. "Really, I'm fine, I'm fine!"

They shuddered, wrapping their arms around their chest. (Was that their way of calming themself down?) Otto stooped down and scooped up an armful of books and handed it to them, who still was breathing heavily.

"It's okay, I promise!" he said, awkwardly patting their shoulder. "I'm not even hurt, don't worry!"

"Really?" they asked, sniffling slightly.

"Really."

Otto stood up, offering his hand. "You sure you're okay?"

They accepted it, pulling themself to their feet. They smiled, clearing their eyes. "I'm okay."

"That's good to hear," he said, trying to make his voice as soothing as possible. The last thing he wanted to do was freak them out again.

Otto smiled. "No problem. I'm Otto, by the way. Otto Beilschmidt. How are you called...sorry, what's your name?" He chuckled awkwardly, the corners of his mouth twisting up into an uncomfortable grin.

"Is English not a first language for you, too?" they asked, cocking their head.

He nodded. "It is. What is your first language?"

"Mine's Italian. And you?"

"German," he replied, grateful that this particular conversation was progressing without a hitch. (One of the lucky few, it seemed.) "I...never actually caught your name, though."

"I'm Feli," they said, pushing a lock of auburn hair behind their ear. "Short for Feliciano Vargas, but I'd rather just go by Feli."

"Well then, it's nice to meet you, Feli!" Otto said, the hand clutching his backpack strap tightening excitedly. "What brings you to-what's this place called again?"

"I think it's called Diagon Alley?"

"Yes! Diagon Alley! What brings you here?"

"The same as you, probably. Are you here for school supplies too?"

"Yeah, but the problem is, is I actually have no idea where to go," he said, shrugging, pulling the supply list out of his pocket. "I'm kinda new to this entire 'magic' thing."

They giggled, pulling out an identical list. "That's fine! I'm really new to this country myself. England, I mean! I've never actually been here before."

Otto nodded sympathetically, "I know the feeling. Hey, since we're both equally confused..." He trailed off, looking at them meaningfully.

They took his social cue. "You want to go together?"

"Sure! Yes, let's go!"

The two of them walked down the street, scouring the landscape for a place to begin.

"Should we go get our robes first?" Otto asked, looking at the first couple items on his list, and picking one at random. Feli nodded, reaching into their own bag.

"I know I put it somewhere," they muttered, their hand rummaging around in their bag. "Voila!" They withdrew a map. It looked pretty old! (He'd always loved studying old maps!) They unfurled it, holding it close as they examined it.

"We have three choices," Feli decided, rolling the map back up. "Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, which is a mouthful, in my opinion! Then, there's Second-Hand Robes, which is bound to be fairly cheaper, and Twilfitt and Tattings. Mi fratello said it was the best store for a 'proper' Italian, so I'd better check it out, too."

Otto nodded, wrinkling his nose slightly at the thought of uniforms, but didn't comment.

"So, which way then?"

"Muggle sports, huh?" Feli asked rhetorically, examining a pair of running shorts in their hands. "What're those about?"

"I don't know," Otto admitted, admiring his reflection as he turned, sporting one of the work robes. "I never played them much, but my old brother Gilbert did. Quite a bit, actually." It was true. He grimaced slightly, memories of getting hit in the face multiple times with various pieces of sporting equipment. If that truly was a requirement at the school, he was in trouble. "I don't care for them myself. Never really seen the appeal. Why, what's the issue?"

"Well..." Feli began, reddening slightly. "Wizards don't really play Muggle sports. In fact, I'm not even sure if we have very many sports-"

"Really?" Otto exclaimed, nearly dropping the wadded-up robe in shock. "As in, at all at all?!"

"Th-That's what I just said, wasn't it?"

"You've never heard of any sports? What about football? The Olympics?!"

"...No..." Feli replied sheepishly, a worried light filling their eyes.

"Wow," he breathed, absently picking up a pair of tennis shoes, turning them over in his hands. Sure, he couldn't care less about sports most of the time. He'd never played any, and only ever went to games to give Gil moral support. (Which was probably unnecessary, realistically)

But who hadn't heard of the Olympics, of all things? "How have you gotten by all these years?! I didn't know there was a person alive who didn't know what the Olympics were!"

Feli, who was looking genuinely uncomfortable by now, anxiously avoided his gaze. "I wasn't raised around Muggles, so it wasn't exactly common knowledge!"

Otto (instantly realizing he'd been an insensitive Dummkopf. Stupid. Stupid.) stopped in his tracks. "Oh...Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. You're...not stupid or anything, don't worry I just-"

He cleared his throat, smiling apologetically. "Considering how much Gil talks about sports back home, I guess I just assumed that most everyone knew about them. I guess. I...was wrong. What I was trying to say was, it's a bit funny. Odd, I guess."

Noting the sudden reappearance of Feli's slightly panicked expression, he amended: "N-Not that it's a bad thing, by any means! I-In fact, there's probably boatloads of Wizarding sports that I've never heard of!"

"There's...Quidditch?"

"Kwidditch? With a K-W?"

"No no no! With a Q, hah!"

Otto scooped up the robe, carrying both that and Feli's Muggle clothing to the register. "What do you do during Quidditch, though? Ditch the quid?" he asked (giddily noting that Feli rolled their eyes at the deliberate pun), pulling out his coinpurse.

"I'm not entirely sure where the name came from," Feli admitted, allowing Otto to push their coinpurse back into their hands as he pulled out a purse of his own. "Now that I think about it, there's a good chance it originated in Britain, but for the most part, the game consists of what my fratello would call 'a buncha idiots screaming on broomsticks that score points while we hit them mercilessly with flying balls'."

Otto wrinkled his nose, placing the wrapped parcel of clothing in his backpack. "Sounds...rather vulgar, actually. They do this in front of crowds?"

(It took them a second to register that Otto's mind was currently swimming in the gutter.)

Feli, mortified, jumped backwards slightly, nearly tripping over their own feet. Having made sure they'd properly steadied themself on the counter, Feli let out a peal of laughter, wiping the residual tears from their eyes. "This is the part where I wholeheartedly assure you that it's not whatever it is that you were thinking. Just-" they wrinkled their nose "eww!"

Otto colored up, biting back a giggle. (Masking it behind the sputtering noises of a dying motor. Smooth.)

"So, where to next?" Otto asked, diverting the subject. (He made sure to face away from Feli so that they couldn't see his stupid, bright red, blushing face.) The two walked aimlessly down the packed road.

The pair (with Feli consulting the map and Otto consulting the list) decided to head to Flourish and Blotts.

"Then...without your 'fratello-isms' to muck things up, what exactly is Quidditch?" he asked, holding open the door to Flourish and Blotts for Feli to enter. "Also, broomsticks? As in," he pantomimed...something, swaying back and forth with something imaginary clasped in his hands.

"I have...no idea what you're doing, but yes, those kinds of broomsticks. Of course, they've been specially made and charmed, but you get the general idea."

"So I take it you don't sweep with them, then?"

(Was that what he was doing?)

"No, they fly," Feli explained patiently, running their fingers on the bindings of a row of books, list in one hand. "They're for riding, like Muggle cars or trains."

"Oh, okay. So how does the actual game work? It's in the air, I take it?"

"I've never cared much for the sport," Feli admitted, pulling a copy of Magical Drafts and Potions off of the shelf and tucked it under their arm. "It was always more of my brother's game, but unlike you I suppose, I never played. As a result, I don't know much more than the bare minimum."

He murmured an "Ah" in understanding, his eyes drifting to the rows upon rows of cluttered books, somehow already beginning to be picked clean by the waves of students that arrived in Diagon Alley even a full month before the year started.

Otto strolled, leaving his newfound friend behind amidst the stacks of textbooks, preferring instead to peruse the rest of the selection.

His fingers absently stroked the bindings (ranging in age from newly-printed to positively ancient) on a shelf. Harry Potter: A Biography? The Illuminate Redcap Agenda? Witch Weekly's Salacious Soups? 72 Uses for Flobberworms? On what grounds did Flourish and Blotts even arrange their books? He didn't even know what section he was in!

Hopelessly confusing.

His mind began to wander as he picked up the dregs of a nearby conversation:

"I still don't see why we need to carry these books, Ford."

"Aw, hush. Don't complain about it too much, it's annoying."

The first man glared at the second (Ford?), but otherwise sauntered past Otto, a tall pile of various books cradled in his arms.

"They're still annoying. I mean, these are Muggle books, after all! 'On the Origin of Species'? 'Animal Farm'? How boring does that sound! Who would willingly read something so mindless?"

"Probably someone with a mind, Stanley," Ford noted dryly, setting his load of books onto the ground, and cleared the space for shelving them. "Not everybody's reading level restricts them to the Lockhart books, after all."

Otto tried to to stare (or giggle, for that matter) as the man named Stanley reddened, turning to his task with renewed focus and vigor. His own attention wandered as he resolved to quit his eavesdropping and find a non-awkward way to exit the conversation (that he wasn't even a part of, no less!)

Feli gave him a good excuse as they rounded the corner. "Otto!" they said, running up to him, two equally-sized stacks of textbooks stowed under each arm. "There you are! I found all the books!"

"Oh, thanks!" he replied, gratefully accepting them as the two soon-to-be students headed towards the register, where Otto (despite their third bout of protests) insisted on paying for the two. It felt good, being the generous one for a change.

They strolled down the street, when upon realizing that neither of them had eaten anything since breakfast for the duration of the day, they resolved to stop for lunch at a nearby cafe.

"Have you ever had British food before?" Feli asked, flipping through the menu with a creased brow. "I don't know what's good..."

"I've had just a little bit," Otto admitted, closing his menu. "I've been to a pub once or twice, in addition to the Leaky Cauldron."

"What were some of the options?"

"Mostly?" Otto asked rhetorically, cracking a smile. "Soup."

Feli giggled a little bit, nervously scanning the menu again. "H-How do you...get the food...?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but...have you never been to a restaurant before?"

They shook their head nervously, blushing. Feli folded their arms, leaning back in their chair. "We've only ever eaten at home...I was never important enough to bring to fancy dinners, or anything..."

Rather than suffer a repeat of the catastrophe from earlier, Otto waved over the waiter, nervously sliding him a few Galleons (Those were the gold ones, right?) as a preemptive tip.

"It's okay, it's not that hard," Otto told Feli, squeezing their shoulder as he walked over to their side of the table. "Let's see, you're over for our drink orders, right?" he asked the waiter, who nodded in response. "In that case, I'd like a soda, please. Do you have Diet Coke?"

The waiter's eyes lit up a bit, in stark contrast from the austere façade of bored professionalism he had displayed a few moments earlier. "Ordinarily, I'd say no, but sir, you're in luck! We started carrying a few Muggle-style beverages as of last week. Personally, it's a wonder we didn't do it sooner, we Wizarding folk have been missing out, that's for sure." He cleared his throat, composing himself.

(Professionalism was important, Otto supposed.)

"Not only do we carry 'Diet Coke', but we also carry Irn Bru, Coca Cola, a homebrewed iced tea, and freshly-squeezed lemonade," the waiter recited, a floating quill and pad noting Otto's order. "Will that be all?"

"So, which of those sounds the best to you, Feli?" Otto asked, nudging his new friend. In a sudden motion, they laid down their menu, scrambling for words like fishing with one's bare hands.

"T-The lemonade sounds nice!"

"Thank you, I'll be out in just a bit to take your order."

Feli let out a breath, watching the waiter retreat inside to the kitchen area.

"What should I get for lunch?"

"I don't think it really matters," Otto replied uncertainly, closing his menu. "To be honest, I think it'd probably be for the best if we each tried something new. Actually, we could even get two random dishes and split them! We are both new to this cuisine, after all!"

"Sounds like a great idea!"

After a moment of deliberation, they randomly decided on a meal.

Feli pulled a small, oblong and oddly flat piece of plastic from their bag. ("Roma gave this to me! It points to a random item on a list so you don't have to choose yourself!") With a hearty (perhaps overly so) toss of the wrist, the die bounced off the table and skittered down the street as if pulled by an unseen hand.

Their waiter watched as they scurried off after it, and hovered awkwardly for several minutes, wondering if the two kids were ever coming back.

Eventually they did, though only after chasing the die out of view, and presumably, down the street.

Stupid prank toys. He didn't understand what kids saw in them. All they were was a hassle, after all.

"Are you two ready to order?"

Twelve minutes later, although worn out from fruitlessly chasing the die down the street, (How could a magic piece of plastic be faster than two entire human beings?!) they managed to return to their table in after a more-or-less timely fashion, resolving instead to retrieve the dice after their meal. Or never. Never worked too.

"That was a bad idea," Feli moaned as they removed their shoe, dumping water into a nearby bush. "I think Roma might've gotten that die hexed to prank me or something..."

"I suddenly don't like your brother," Otto agreed, resting his head on the table in an attempt to quell the pulse throbbing in his head.

"Believe me, neither do I," they agreed, accepting their drink from the waiter's tray with a smile.

"Why?" he asked, curious.

"Oh, he's not very likable. He acts like a two-year-old around basically everybody, and he's really mean to people, especially those he doesn't know. And he's stubborn. Bull stubborn. Worse, sometimes.

"Sounds charming," Otto noted dryly, taking a sip of soda. "He and my brother would get on just fine, by the sound of it."

"Yeah..." Feli agreed, awkwardly, drifting off. (Right, it was probably really weird talking about people they'd never met. It was clearly time to change conversation tactic.)

"Is it common for Wizarding bookstores to carry Muggle books?"

The question seemed to take to take Feli by surprise, and for a second the waiter joined them in the awkward silence, Quick Quotes Quill and floating notepad at the ready as he waited to take their orders.

As he left, Feli rested their head on their interlaced fingers. "What do you mean by that?"

"Back at Flourish and Blotts, there was an employee complaining about stocking a few Muggle books. Personally, I think it was just...complaining, but from what I heard, it wasn't a super common phenomenon."

"I've never heard about any Wizarding shop stocking those in Italy," they replied, "It must be just in Magical Britain. A pretty recent announcement, by the sound of it, too."

"So wizards don't read Muggle books often, I take it?" Otto said slowly, choosing his words with the utmost caution.

"Not really, no."

"But...Muggle literature is fascinating! It's super important for history and science and culture and everything!"

"I don't see what you mean," Feli replied slowly. "I mean, Wizards do have our own culture to be concerned with, after all."

"That doesn't mean Muggle culture isn't important!" he pressed.

"I still don't agree," they said, taking a long drink of lemonade through their straw. "How could Wizarding culture possibly need Muggles? We've spent most of our time away from them!" They paused. "And even when we haven't, they've caused us nothing but trouble."

Excitement flooded Otto as he came to realize that he now had an opening for his point.

"You really think they're that separate?" he asked incredulously. "Why?"

Feli thought for a second, the gears in their brain turning visibly as they knit their eyebrows.

"It's just...why would Wizards need Muggles? We've made a habit of avoiding them, for the most part, y'know?"

"That doesn't mean you don't need us," Otto pressed.

"I don't see it that way."

"We live in the same world," Otto pointed out, his own forehead creasing in discomfort. "Why wouldn't we need each other in our histories?"

They looked down, muttering something under their breath, their expression darkened considerably. Otto's heart flipped upside-down, two quick spikes of fear shooting through him. Could that be...a hex?!

But no. He seemed fine. It was...silly of him to assume. Silly and insensitive.

"W-What was that?" he asked, heart racing despite himself. He hoped his voice hadn't cracked during the statement. It probably had.

"You didn't exactly give us a good reason to integrate Muggles into our history!" Feli huffed, hands balling into fists in what Otto sensed was an exceptionally rare display of anger. "Considering how whenever we have, all it's earned us is extermination!"

Otto jumped back in surprise, mouth opening and closing dumbly as he grasped for the words to say, the words to diffuse the situation, the words to get them to calm down.

"Even when we haven't integrated ourselves, we lived in constant fear of the stake-toting Muggles? This doesn't even address the fact that we Italians come from the beating heart of Catholicism! I can't even go outside, Otto! How am I supposed to celebrate that?"

The air around them didn't do so much as quiver.

"You don't, I guess," Otto breathed, shocked. "Feli, I...I'm so sorry. I didn't know you felt that way, I-"

They shook their head. "It's fine. No, really, it's fine. Roma says I cry too much, anyway." Feli tried to give a lighthearted smile. They lifted their head, looking him in the eye. Tears filled theirs. "I'm sorry."

A stray tear rolled off their nose, dropping into their empty glass of lemonade.

The two of them sat in an awkward silence for a solid minute, each refusing to look the other in the eye.

It persisted for an awful, pregnant period of time that not even the wind (which was blowing in earnest by now) could truly diffuse. Each party stubbornly refused to be the one to blink first, and yet, wished that the other would just say something already. They sat in silence, the noises of Diagon Alley continuing uncaring around them, oblivious to the hot tears that were beginning to dam up behind Feli's eyelids, squeezed shut.

It took the double-doors to the inside of the cafe's shuttering open and closed to puncture the tense atmosphere.

"Order eighty, the honey-rosemary lamb sandwich, extra honey mustard, and the bacon-basil-tomato sandwich with a side of caprese salad," the waiter recited with such fluency and speed that even Otto, moping as he was, had to admit it was at least a bit impressive.

He laid the platter of food on the table, and the two kids hesitantly moved each of their plates off, scooting them close.

Feli (how did they banish the tears so quickly?) looked at their waiter gratefully, smiling earnestly.

He bowed politely in return, laying a bill in place of the platter, neatly folded again under the crook of his arm. "That will be two Galleons, eleven Sickles, and twenty-seven Knuts. Will that be all?"

Feli shook their head, drawing out not only two, but five Galleons for the waiter. "I think we're good here, for right now. You can keep the change, by the way."

The waiter smiled, accepted the payment, and walked back into the restaurant.

Otto looked down at his food, realizing that his appetite was seriously burnt out by this point in the conversation. Why did he even get a sandwich? He'd never even had lamb before. It was all in the name of trying something new, but...was that really the smartest thing to try right now? Nothing could-

Feli slid over to him half of their sandwich, smiling sheepishly. "I thought this could serve as a white flag," they said, blushing. "We were originally going to split our sandwiches, remember?"

Otto accepted the offering, grateful for an excuse to avoid yet another pout-filled meal. He returned the favor, sliding half of his lamb sandwich back over to his friend. Otto took a bite of it, (It was really good!) chewing methodically.

"So I take it we're just gonna kinda...ignore the past five minutes?" Otto said, mouth full of sandwich. (In light of all that had happened, it was probably a good idea to be direct about this. Just this once.)

Somehow, Feli still found the energy to laugh, despite everything. They nodded, grinning widely. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Gotcha."

A/N: And so the next chapter ends! These two just can't catch a break, can they?

Stay tuned! Next time we'll see more of Romano and Gilbert.

When I write, I keep track of all the scenes I omit from the published draft. So, if you'd like to read the deleted scenes for this chapter, (in this case, a scene that's a bit too overemotional on Feli's part, and another history debate between the two that got just a bit too in-depth) leave a non-anon review and I'll get them to you asap. (Please make sure to have PMs enabled, if you want the outtake!)

Feel free to leave a review on your way out!