Despite the situation being so tense, Ephraim had to fight a smirk as his mate pointed to his working ear and pretended not to have understood his father.  

"Oh! There's my book."  

Ephraim tensed as Walt leaned over his father. It was like getting near a strange stray dog who was either going to bite, turn tail and run, or be your best friend. His father was just as unpredictable. He was sober which made him even more unpredictable. To most, Albert O’Malley was a lazy sot but a charming enough one to be likeable at the pub. The deeper he was in his cups, the meaner he got if things weren’t going his way. Both of sons had learned pretty quickly to read the alcohol level the moment he got home. To look for any drooping of the eyelids, to analyze his movements for any staggering, and how close he would be to passing out. They knew when to leave the flat and when to stay. Sometimes, they read their father correctly, sometimes not.

Sober, however, meant a tricky game of Russian Roulette. Sometimes, Burt O’Malley actually remembered to be a dad. A pat on the shoulder or a word of praise was given.He had even taken both of his sons to see a horse race and once to football match. His team had won the football match and they had gone out to eat until they were stuffed. But times like that were few and far between. More likely they were to get a swat and a threat. There were occasional bouts of guilt brought on ‘I’m sorry’, ‘I’ll quit drinking’, and ‘I’ll be a better dad’. Those lasted as long as smoke from a snuffed candle.
 

"Don't mind, do you Mr. O'Malley?" 

Burt watched the boy. It was the same look that Elias wore, observing everything and waiting for someone to strike. Upon seeing that Walt was no threat, he simply shrugged. Apparently, the older man was choosing to be magnanimous today. He must want something. Normally, he would’ve just ignored Walt like he was beneath his notice. He pretty much always had, even when Walt had come over for a few visits.  He had never bothered to learn Walt’s name and Eph was rather fine with that.  

 “Well, if yer gonna be like that,” Burt sniffed in offense after Ephraim asked him to get on with the purpose he had come for.

“See, why can’t ya be as polite as yer china ‘ere?” The older man asked as he shoved a finger towards Walt. The answer was Dorothy but Ephraim didn’t bother to say that outloud.


 “Could use some bees with the snow and all,”  his father removed his cap and worried it in his fingers leaving behind greasy strands of hair, some sticking straight up. If Ephraim didn’t know any better, he would think that his dad was embarrassed for the asking. It took a second for Ephraim wrap his brain around what he had just heard. 

 “‘Bees and honey. Money,” he stated back to his father but it was mainly to elaborate for Walt. He didn’t look at his mate but he knew for a fact that Walt was listening. Ephraim truly doubted he had read a word on the page he had opened to. Walt had picked up a lot of rhyming slang but the older that Eph had gotten, the less and less he used. Ephraim also had translated so Walt wouldn’t have to try to figure it out. He would admit it though.

He didn’t say anything at first, just tucked his wand in his back pocket. The threat hadn’t lessened but he was quite afraid that he might actually do something to his father this time. He wasn’t a first year any longer who had levitated his father against the ceiling until a wizard law enforcer had come.
 

“‘ow the ‘ell can ya sit in my flat and ask for money?”  Ephraim asked, his voice low and cold. His hands, now wandless, were balled into tight fist that made his knuckles turn pale.  

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