11pm, Signature Bar. Hogsmeade.

"Un sizzling margarita!"

Vivienne Thorpe, leaning against the marble counter with a sweet and altogether charming smile on her face, could barely hear herself through the din. Throngs of witches and wizards were crammed into the glamorous space along the bar; every one of them alight with conversation. The music playing in the background wasn't helping. In spite of the odds however, the Healer found herself nursing a glass of orange slushy almost as soon as she'd made her request-- it hissed sharply, giving off a citrusy scent.

"Hannah," Vivienne twisted around to her friend, who was standing next to her at the bar: "You must try this, non? It smells delicious." The pair were surrounded by groups of people drinking and chattering the night away. It was pleasant... the kind of place Viv enjoyed being in, full of body heat and laughter and the general atmosphere of having a drunkenly good time. Unfortunately, it was not the kind of place that she imagined Hannah Bombay to enjoy.

But non! No morgues or patients for these witches tonight. Tonight they were in Hogsmeade. How long since she had even been to the village-- years, maybe! They had taken dinner earlier in the evening and strolled down the nostalgia-ridden streets before coming to Signature. Vivienne had been looking forward to his for some time; she was dressed, quite unsubtly, in the colours of her alma mater. Naturellement.

Being here was like a homecoming.... with much more liquor. And the lack of a curfew, thank God. The witch leaned closer to Hannah and her grey gaze dropped to the glass of white wine she held with both hands. "Vin! Wine is good but you don't drink wine at a nightclub," she thrusted her margarita towards the younger Healer, still grinning.  "Believe me, it'll be much easier getting drunk on this than it will on that."

Anyone would think Hannah Bombay had been handed a box of exploding fireworks the way she regarded the drink in her hand. Eyes stared down at it, her hand unmoving, the perfectly polished nails encircling the glass. Her eyes slowly moved back to the wineglass in her left hand, her drink of preference. But that glass was now empty and her colleague had apparently decided to give the younger witch an education.

The ‘nightclub’ was loud, it was crowded and it was not this healer’s cup of tea. Had she been completely sober at this moment Hannah would have stepped heeled foot into the club and turned straight back around. She liked the quiet solitude of an exam room with a sleeping patient, certainly not a room packed with drunken witches and wizards. Fortunately Hannah was feeling the effects of the wine and her uptight inhibitions had slipped away with each sip, with each moment closer to the upcoming full moon that turned her into an animal.

“I don’t drink anything at a nightclub, Vivienne.” The considerably shorter witch responded, raising her voice over the inconsiderately loud music. The wineglass was left on the bar behind them and Hannah once more eyed her drink with suspicion. It was raised to her lips and she took a small sip. Light brown eyes suddenly widened and the witch’s features screwed up. “My word...”

“That’s really quite...” The effect was strange. It made Hannah feel headier, a feeling she seemed to appreciate as she took another sip. The witch looked back up at her colleague. “Where’s yours?” The grin playing on her lips was half masked by the glass.

Vivienne watched, delighted, as her normally put-together colleague took a sip of the margarita-- and couldn't helped but laugh at the reaction. This was perfect. It was exactly what she... exactly what they needed. Neither St.Mungo's nor their personal lives had been merciful to them lately and if getting tipsy in a crowded bar wasn't a good patch-up for their souls, than nothing was! Who would know better than them, a pair of Healers?

"Oui," she giggled as Hannah trailed off, trying to describe the drink. A few more of those and, maybe, the witch might begin to look a little more comfortable in their surroundings. Viv turned back to the bar at the question: "That," she announced: "is an excellent query. Barman!" A wizard appeared across the counter with almost impossible punctuality and another engaging smile was procured as she ordered her own cocktail. She glanced at Hannah with a quick wink, "If we get drunk, we get drunk together."

They could always stay at the Inn later if both of them were too inebriated to apparate home. Viv accepted her drink from the barhand gracefully before looking back to her friend, free hand moving to take her by the arm. "There, now we are armed!" Her eyes shifted away to look around the floor at the masses of people.

Refreshing, after days of making rounds in sparser corridors. "Though I'm not sure what for..." the Healer murmured as she took a step back to avoid bumping into a group of younger witches, nearly spilling her cocktail. Damn heels.

It would be rude to refuse - thought Rosier when an old colleague of his invited him for a drink at the Hog’s Head which turned into a wizarding poker tournament after only two rounds of drinks. All was well until some youngsters that could have easily been 7th year Hogwarts students started a bar fight among themselves. After some commotion, they were all asked to leave, but surprisingly Rosier wasn’t even angry. This was part of the charm of the old, gloomy inn. He always preferred Hog’s Head in all its dirty, shabby glory. And tonight it made the old Raven Rosier more than slightly nostalgic. So, instead of apparating back home like his colleague, Rosier decided to take a walk down the dark village road, thankful the scenery still looked very much like it used to about thirty-odd years ago.

Stumbling slightly, he found himself in front of an unfamiliar place though. It had to be that bar that was built relatively recently…Knowing he should just go home and attempt to sleep for at least a couple of hours, Rosier ignored his instincts and decided to look around. The bar was an atrocity. It was designed with such distaste that it could only appeal to the younger (and less intelligent) clientele. It had that ‘modern’ look about it and it desperately strived to be ‘exclusive’. Rolling his eyes, Rosier walked to the bar, against his better judgement, his mood worsening by the second. It was highly unlikely he would find anyone he knew around here…actually, he sincerely hoped he was right. He would rather participate in a drunken bar fight in Hog’s Head than be seen here.

Even the rum tasted watered down! Rosier could only make grumpy Rosier-faces after he had a sip of the drink he ordered. He didn’t pay much attention to anything apart from his mediocre drink, but he heard a relatively familiar French-sounding voice. He just couldn’t place it, but he was sure he knew it! Hoping he was wrong, he took a look to the right. It would have probably taken him a lot more time to recognize her if he hadn’t found out something relatively amusing the night before. He found out Pratt was seeing Healer Thorpe! Well Rosier could say only one thing - the two of them certainly deserved each other.

“Ah. Healer Thorpe,” was his form of greeting. “Fancy seeing you here, though I shouldn’t act surprised - from what I’ve heard, you St. Mungo lot sure know how to drink.” No, he was actually surprised they bothered with going out instead of getting plastered on surgical spirits like Marren probably did.

There would always be something unsettling about seeing former patients out of the hospital-- namely ones who had been a pain to treat in the first place. It had been nearly three months since Vivienne had seen the head of the MLE but she would have recognized that voice anywhere. She had a good memory for people who annoyed her.

"Monsieur Rosier," the witch said in a mildly surprised voice as she turned slightly to give the man at the bar a proper look. He didn't seem any more sober than some of the patrons around him but she guessed that even wizards of high titles needed to get smashed every now and then.

"I don't know what you mean," Viv replied with a strained smile. That margarita in her hand was adding very little credibility to the statement... mon dieu, she did not want to be speaking to this unpleasant person. There were very few things that she and Eddie could agree upon where his job was concerned-- one of them was an outright dislike for Cameron Rosier.

His apology letter for that evening in May hadn't done much to improve her opinion of him. "Though I must admit that I am a little surprised to see you all the way here," she commented before moving slightly to put a hand on Hannah's shoulder: " Oh, but how rude of me. Let me introduce you to my friend, Hannah. We Healers don't drink alone, you see."

Vivienne gave her colleague a quick, apologetic glance. Any port in a storm, if it meant she had to spend less time talking to Rosier.

A while back the prospect of getting drunk wouldn’t really have appealed to Hannah Bombay. She was a straight laced individual that didn’t stray from the professional path and certainly didn’t get drunk in public and make a display of herself. Johann had set that in change and her predicatment with the ministry only fuelled it. The full moon was in a few days and she’d have to face up to her horrible reality again. Right now? The margehrita and some lively company were appealing which was why she’d allowed herself into this unpleasant club. It was time to try and loosen up and have a nice time.

Hannah could deal with Vivienne Thorpe and a drink. She wasn’t so sure about other people. But there was enough alcohol in her system to stop her first reaction to the arrival of the grumpy looking wizard from being turning and walking away.

Rosier...Brown eyes shot to the tall wizard and lips pursed. She sure hoped it wasn’t that Rosier. Unlikely. Hannah lifted the drink to her lips and took a sip just as she felt the hand on her shoulder. Silently the healer’s eyes drifted over his figure draped in the smart robes. She watched the arm holding his drink for a moment before glancing to his right arm then his legs. Finally her gaze lifted back upon his eyes, framed by small wrinkles, tension lines.

“It would mend better without the stress,” She stated over the loud music, a small smile twisting her lips, “Your arm.”

Yes, he was surprised to see himself in this dreadful place as well. Well, at least Healer Thorpe wasn’t as unpleasant as she was that night in May…or maybe she wasn’t unpleasant, maybe that whole memory was too bitter for him to process. Also, at least this time he wasn’t covered in blood and wearing charred, ragged clothes. As for Healers not drinking alone - ha, right! It was well known all Healers were miserable creatures.

“Nice to meet you, Hannah,” he said politely as Thorpe introduced her colleague. The girl Hannah, though undoubtedly lovely had something unsettling about her. She looked at him so analytically, as if something was wrong with him. But then again, all Healers were like that and he quickly remembered this was one of the reasons he disliked Thorpe as well. They were cold, calculated and treated their patients as if they were corpses already. As she stared at him awkwardly, the only thing Rosier could do to conceal his frown was to sip on his sorry excuse for a drink.

But what Hannah had to say almost made him spit his drink over both of them. Luckily, he was able to contain himself and the only reaction they got were both of his eyebrows raised. How did she know? This was exactly why he hated Healers…they knew too much, though it was possible Thorpe told her about it before. Now he will be forced to think about his arm all night - he probably won’t be able to sleep. Only thinking about it made him angry and in pain. “Would it now?” he asked coldly. They all pretended they knew everything, that it was all so easy. “I guess I’ll need to tell the criminals, the Wizengamot and the Aurors to stop stressing me out then.” As if his sarcastic reply wasn’t enough, he had to emphasize on the word ‘Aurors’, giving Healer Thorpe a significant, knowing look.

So he was that Rosier. The Rosier that was in charge of the Wizengamot that happily convicted her and Knox without a consideration for the real evidence, for the fact that they’d been trapped with no way of escaping the situation. Either this wizard before them was a blind or an unfair man. Hannah, influenced by the copious amount of wine Vivienne and herself had consumed during their meal before entering the dingy, dirty club, wasn’t sure which she believed Rosier was. Her gaze therefore remained analytical as her eyes studied the man’s face.

His face was sour in expression but may have been handsome with a less cantankerous persona beneath the surface. The lines around his eyes were certainly not caused by laughter but rather indefinite scowling and struggle to keep a morose expression, a stern aura about his person.

“So you find the aurors principally stress inducing?” The small healer questioned, her eyes not moving from his face. She had no clue as to his real meaning in the stressing of the word. This was the first time Thorpe and Bombay had socialised outside of the hospital.

The drink was lifted to Hannah’s lips and she took a slow sip before offering the wizard a small smile. Him being in charge of the Wizengamot also meant he was Knox Greyfriar’s boss. Someone the giant hairy wizard who lacked an inside voice was no doubt miffed when they didn’t bow down to him with awe and respect. Yet she doubted Greyfriar would bellow at him if gargling were ever brought up in conversation. He obviously saved that for the special witches in his life.

“Perhaps you should do more to diminish your stress when away from the aurors, Mr Rosier.”

This was not turning out to be the evening that Vivienne was expecting. She had suspected that, maybe, they would bump into some agreeable gentlemen, chat them up. Maybe Hannah might drunkenly find someone to help her forget her discomfort in social situations. The witch knew, from her own experience, that liquor and men were... convenient solutions.

But Rosier was not a solution. If anything, he was another problem. “I guess I’ll need to tell the criminals, the Wizengamot and the Aurors to stop stressing me out then,” the wizard replied to Hannah's unsurprisingly detached observation. Viv was used to it but clearly the Head of the MLE did not take kindly to having his past injuries being pointed out to him.

He gave Vivienne a look at the mention of aurors and she frowned slightly, thinking at once of Eddie. Her auror, much like herself, was not one to talk about his personal life in the office. Rosier's expression was perturbing but she shook it off and responded with a tolerant, vague smile.

Hannah was not quite as predisposed towards non-confrontational conversation. Viv glanced at the margarita in her colleagues hands, wondering, as she watched her take another sip, if that had anything to do with it.

"Everybody finds aurors to be stress inducing, Hannah." The Healer commented in a sociable tone before Rosier could reply. "Even other aurors," she muttered and drained her glass in a final, long sip. Mon dieu. It looked like Bombay was doing just fine; maybe even more comfortable around the man than Vivienne felt.

"I need another drink," she announced abruptly, turning to the bar and away from the discussion with the ease of someone used to avoiding tensions. "Something a little stronger, s'il vou plait, barman."