outfit

Dreogan had gotten dressed for the day at 7:35 am. The time he usually woke up on weekends. He was going to stay in the same t-shirt, sweater, and jeans, but now that he was heading for the door, he wasn't so sure.

Maybe he hadn't made clear to Akiva how casual Gil's restaurant was. Or, maybe he just shouldn't go out in public like this. Dreogan really had no way of knowing.

Hand on the door handle, he stopped and chewed on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.  With a sigh, he retreated back to his room to stand in front of his closet.  Tabitha followed him there, watching him. "What do you think?" he asked, holding up a shirt. Green. She gave a sedate little mew and wove between his legs. Well, she liked the jeans. Good enough. Dreogan quickly fumbled with the buttons, grabbed a blazer and some loafers, looked himself over in the mirror, and was now 10 minutes later than he had wanted to be.

Granted, he had allowed for plenty of time -- Dreogan was not a person to be underprepared -- but, well . . . Dreogan didn't like to be underprepared. And he was now 10 minutes behind.

He didn't take as much time as he might have liked in travelling there; Dreogan opted instead to Apparate to the nearest wizarding hub and walk from there. Dreogan liked wandering around London and the distance wasn't too far that going pedestrian would have been impossible. But then, he might have been late.

As he crossed into Muggle London, he let his eyes curiously rome about, always welcoming the break from his traditional surroundings. He observed with some satisfaction that things were just right: the sun was nearly setting, it was pleasant but not chill, and there was a light breeze, which seemed to settle Dreogan's nerves a little.

Because Dreogan was starting to feel it, ever so slightly. That tightness in his stomach and throat. He really shouldn't have left so late. It had put him in a bit of a hurried mood which only seemed to increase the closer he got to Akiva's. Dreogan glanced at his watch as he crossed the street to Mermaid Court. Eight minutes early. Good. He took a deep breath and felt some of the stress subside.

Eight more minutes would give them time to walk at a leisurely pace to Gil's. Not that Gil was waiting. Or needed to be impressed. Still, Dreogan found that he very much enjoyed spending time with Akiva, and eight minutes more were certainly welcome.

Time actually didn't seem to be an issue, Dreogan reflected, recalling that they had ended up working and chatting well into the night on Thursday. He hadn't seen her since then, though, making it a distinct point not to come in on Friday. She had already helped so much; he didn't want her to grow tired of him already. Unlike Naureen, his secretary, she was not paid to help him to the extent that she did, and he couldn't impose.

Dreogan knocked softly on the door, looking up at the eaves of the building as he did so, always finding it somewhat unnerving to be staring at a blank canvas of wood as he waited. He cleared his throat and ran his hand through his curls.

But, maybe he shouldn't have come early . . . he began to fret. Dreogan felt about in his pockets for his cell phone -- by now an outdated brick. No new messages . . .

Akiva had gone through her closet three or four times now, pulling out things and laying them on her bed, running around like a mad woman, half dressed and doing her hair at the same time she was trying to get dressed.  Her phone did not stop ringing – her mother decided it was a good day to incessantly bother her for things – and she had tripped over Lady so many times now, it was just a mess.  The blonde was worried that perhaps this was a bad sign – but she reminded herself that there couldn’t be anything negative going on because this was nothing more than just a dinner between friends.

She had made dinner and now he was repaying her with a trip to a restaurant that he knew of – nothing too harmful in that, and she had a heck of a time of convincing the rest of her friends and family of that.  Of course, when looking at her room, they would never know the difference between her preparation for a date or a non-date, as she had dubbed this.  Finally satisfied that her hair was not going to frizz out and her makeup was alright, she tripped back into the bedroom, looking at the choices she had laid out.

The problem wasn’t that she didn’t have clothes, but that she had too many.  Over the years, and from working in such public positions, she had a wide variety of things she could never decide what she wanted and what was best for any given situation.  She was struggling and looked at the pairs of shoes laid out and then the bottoms she had and the tops with the jackets – ugh!  She had to make a choice.  Walking to the edge of the bed, she closed her eyes and waved her hand over the bed, counting to ten before she stopped.  Okay.  Looking down to the set she had her hand over, it was a black skirt with grey and white stripes and a white sleeveless shirt with black pipes and a little jacket.  It was going to be it.

She slipped on the clothes quickly and adjusted everything, pulling at the zipper on the skirt and fixing her shirt.  She turned and looked in the mirror on the door of her armoire.  “Alright,” she said to herself, “this is good.”  She was not totally convinced of this fact, of course, and felt like she could have done better, but it was really down to the wire and glancing at her thin, silver watch, she couldn’t afford to change her mind again.  She thought about going to ask Frank what he thought but she wasn’t sure if she had time…

Hearing a distinct yowl from the kitchen, she knew she didn’t have time to do anything.  “Coming!” she called, though the cat really understood her.  He definitely heard her voice, however, and his meow rolled prettily from his throat.  He was pleased, obviously and Akiva took a can of cat food from the shelf in the cabinet, peeling it open with a pop.  Gordon pushed against her legs expectantly and the blonde placed the food in his dish before putting it down on the mat with his water dish.  She also made sure, while in the area, to put food in Lady’s dish so they would not bother one another.  Leaning down, she scratched the cat’s back and he arched into her nails before she retracted. 

She glanced at her watch again and sighed.  She had at least twenty minutes, she could go to Frank’s for a few and he could say something about it. Exiting her apartment, she flounced over and knocked on the door less than patiently.  Thankfully he was in and had a few comments to make from the get-go, and then continued to tease her when she explained.  Of course, the teasing was only to surround a rather genuine comment that she looked fine and shouldn’t worry – she took it, and promised to get him back when he was nervous about anything before dashing back to her flat to wait.  Sometimes it was so convenient to live so close to friends. 

It was only then did she realize she did not have her purse, nor her phone, nor anything she felt like she needed and panicked, running to her room to grab the bag and all the things a woman thought she needed when going out – including, but not limited to, a phone, touchup makeup, and half of her worldly possessions.  (Perhaps it was not that bad, but she was hurried and nervous), only to be exacerbated by the faint sounds of knocking and Lady’s all too familiar bark.  He was here!

Turning, she looked in the mirror one last time, fluffing her hair a little and inspecting her makeup – all set, before striding out.  “Coming!” she called as she approached the door, not wanting him to think she didn’t hear, and then reached the door, having to use her foot to edge the zealous dog out of the way.  “Stop it, Lady,” she urged as she undid the locks and turned the knob, smiling through the opening, “Hi!” she greeted him, still nudging Lady out of the way, “One second!” she added with a bit of a blush, leaning down to pet and soothe the dog before she could slide out.

“She always barks at visitors,” she explained with an apologetic smile, “You look good,” she added, the awkward smile broadening into a comfortable grin.  “I’m impressed,” she added, “we’re both early!”

outfit choice

As soon as the door opened and Dreogan noticed the dark and gold of a nose and muzzle peak out from the door, Dreogan had bent down to reach out and pet it. He looked up at Akiva and beamed. "Hello!" he responded. The door closed quickly, however, without affording a glance at the little spaniel and Dreogan looked somewhat abashed by her explanation. "Oh."

He looked even more shy at her compliment. "Well, I did the best I could without any of your fashion advice. I tried to find some rhinestone sunglasses, but . . ." he shrugged and there was a momentary pause.

"You look fabulous, though," he said, realising with a blush that perhaps the compliment had been a little too . . . enthusiastic. But certainly genuine. He felt giddy, lightheaded for a moment and he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Ah, so," he said, noticing she was not wearing heels, but some shiny black . . . shoes. He didn't know how comfortable they might be. Girls had a tendency to wear things that weren't really practical; he didn't understand it, though they usually looked very nice. "I was thinking we could just walk, but it's a bit of a hike . . ." he said. "We could always walk to a hub and Apparate, or we could ah, take the tube. If you're feeling adventurous," he added, feeling as though he should have somehow prepared better.

She had not realized, at first, that Dreogan didn’t mind the yapping dog, and had closed the door far too quickly to even allow time to reconsider.  It had been an automatic reaction, considering Lady had a tendency to just latch on to people and then become impossible to wrangle back into the flat.  It would have taken a lot of time out.  Maybe after dinner she could invite him in… perhaps that would be the best idea. 

Giggling softly, the blonde surveyed the entirety of the outfit and shook her head.  “It doesn’t appear you need my help in that department at all,” she pointed out – pleasantly surprised.  She hadn’t known what to expect and she wondered if she had been over dressed, but they were approximately on the same level.  Akiva was  on the slightly more professional side, but really, those were the clothes she had collected over the past two years – it was rather difficult to dress for something when one didn’t have the ability to remember how to do so – though this wasn’t a date, so she was certain nothing was different.

Granted, that fluttery feeling in her stomach was a little different than going out with Frank or some of her other friends, but she figured it was from something different.  She continued to blush at his compliment and smiled shyly, “Thanks,” was pretty much all she could manage, reaching up to tuck hair behind her ear, scratching behind her ear just a little.  She contemplated his proposal on arrival to the restaurant and the many different ways in which they could go about it, which all had their advantage and disadvantages.

She didn’t want to risk being split in half by apparating, and though she took the tube on a regular basis, she didn’t know if she really wanted to.  Instead, she glanced down – she had worn the right flats, as they were quite comfortable, and figured they could take the beating of a bit of a walk.  It wasn’t as though it could be that far of a walk.  Though he cautioned it was a hike, Akiva found her lips tugging into a definitive smirk, “Well, perhaps to prepare me for our hiking excursion,” she prompted, “the walk is the best choice.”

“It’s such a nice evening,” she added, “it would be a shame to waste it on the tube or by apparating.”  Plus, a few extra minutes walking and talking, enjoying the pleasant weather and even more pleasant company wasn’t going to hurt anyone.  In fact, Akiva welcomed it with her signature sunny smile and eager disposition. 

"A walk it is, then," Dreogan said with a self-satisfied smile. It appeared they were on officially for their hiking expedition. He wondered if this was in addition to their climbing excursion and Monty Python viewing.

Three events. Dreogan chuckled quietly to himself at that. He wondered how he would have time to fit it all in. He'd make time, he decided. He didn't know when he would have to go back to Israel. Or Jordan. Or Turkey. Best to spend time with her while he could; that way they'd have a friendship that could actually withstand long-distance correspondence . . .

One thing was certain: if he told his brother or mom that this really was just between friends, they'd never believe him. He hoped Gil would. He could just imagine the man blabbing it all to his family; then he'd never hear the end of it.

He was pleased that she chose the walk. She seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, a clear outlook on life, and priorities . . . He smiled as he began to walk through her neighbourhood. They wove through, Dreogan making some minor comments on the beautiful maintenance of the area, the calm pace of life here . . . "So, how was your day?" He finally asked, realising he hadn't even thought to turn the direction of the conversation her way.

Strolling casually at his side, Akiva couldn’t help but smile.  She was uncommonly comfortable and the breezy conversation about the sleepy little area, cut off from the general disarray that could take over a city and was a good place for families and other people who just disliked having to sleep with one eye always open.  She had always enjoyed living in an area that was big enough and accessible enough for the rest of the city, but had the charm of a neighborhood like her grandmother had lived in when she was growing up.  Though she would probably never find herself in a house in the country, Kiki was fairly sure this was the closest and best she could get inside the city: suburbs just didn’t do it for her.

The conversation turned quickly to her, and Akiva laughed softly – that was a question her mother had asked her father every day upon returning home from the University, and it just made her lips pull upward.  Such a silly little question came preloaded with so many different memories.  It put her in a pleasant place, and she smiled at him, “Very typical,” she laughed. “I took Lady for a walk, went for groceries, came home to put them away, and relaxed with a book for the rest of the afternoon until I started to get ready.”

She did not specify exactly when she had started to get ready – that would probably be something worth omitting at present, since it had been an almost two and a half hour process – and for not even a date!  She blushed at the thought and turned her eyes to him, shrugging off her own embarrassment.  “How about you?” she returned, “Did you do anything exciting?” secretly, she hoped he did not do anything too exciting.  She had a sneaking suspicion that his idea of exciting was probably more dangerous in her book.  She had to remind herself that if she was going to have friends with dangerous careers, she had to be willing to accept that.

Of course, for the last few weeks, his job didn’t seem to get that bad.  However, at the memorial ceremony and afterward, she could see that there was not all diplomat there. She tried not to dwell on it, though the thought struck her more than once.  She really needed to learn more about him, but he seemed very adverse to it, and Kiki was not the type to pry when it was something like that.  He did the same for her, avoiding the subjects that made her visibly uncomfortable, so she did it in turn.  It was mutually beneficial.

Dreogan smiled broadly at her description of her day. It was good, she decided. After all, she may have teased him about his late nights and lack of sleep, but she certainly was a co-conspirator in their late night adventures. And she looked as though she could use with a peaceful, laid-back weekend.

"Exciting? Me?" Dreogan laughed. "Not today, I'm afraid. A whole lot o'boring." He looked up at the sky as he thought through the bullets of his day. "Mail." He started, nodding as he worked his way through. "Bills" because he had been out of town for so long; "groceries. Oh, and I did talk to my brother for a time," he added. "Which, of course, took equally long to recover from." He grinned at his joke, but there was some truth to it. Adon had decided to not only suggest that it was a date, but promised to tell his mother if he didn't. He seemed absolutely determined that Dreogan needed a woman in his life -- and without even so much as meeting the woman, Adon had presumed to decide which one it would be.

Dreogan had never had the effrontery  to tell Adon what he could and couldn't do, and he was the elder brother. Technically, that was his right if he so chose. He had tried to, and for the most part, succeeded, in taking it as a joke and brushing it off as such. But he knew his mum would not. And now he'd have to tell her about Akiva.

And he wondered what his mother would do with that knowledge. Because it was a well-known fact that knowledge is power. Of course, it was now Dreogan's duty to make sure she knew the right things, but Dreogan himself was finding himself unsure, exactly, of what those were. He knew he enjoyed spending time with Akiva. He knew he found her engaging, intelligent, pleasant to be around, and attractive. He didn't, however, think there was anything on her side.  A library worker had teased him on his way out of the Ministry on Friday, goading him on with the fact that Akiva had said they were "just friends." The old bird had waggled her eyebrows suggestively, and Dreogan could only confirm that what Akiva had said was absolutely correct.

Because, if that was what she said, and if that was how she felt, then that was how it would be. And Dreogan himself was happy with this. But no one else seemed to be, with their constant pushing. His mother would be by far the worst. A bright, young, attractive Jewish witch in England; even if Dreogan hadn't known her, his mother would have tried to work her magic as soon as she found out of her existence.

Dreogan realised that by now they were at the base of London bridge. "Under there's where we can go climbing. It's a place in the base of the bridge, though. Not the bridge itself. That'd be a bit intimidating," he said with a slight chuckle, hoping she'd still want to go.

They were now halfway across the bridge, approaching the white tower. Dreogan glanced, as he always did, for any of the multifarious ghosts that haunted the area and thought he caught a glimpse of a figure pacing the battlements. It was a melancholy, sombre place that sometimes fascinated Dreogan. As a youth, he'd visit the place often with the Grimlish sisters.

"Oh! You'll also be happy to know that I did," he said, "finally turn in that briefing for Harker. I know you wouldn't like me working on a weekend," he said preemptively, "but that part is at least over and done with. And," he added with a bit of a quirked smile, "I've begun to look over intern applications. I must say, they're. . . " he laughed at this, "well, they're probably what I should have expected from students so young. One came complete with a drawing of themselves working at a desk  for the cover letter; I'd asked them to express how they felt they would fit into the working environment. . . I suppose I left it open to interpretation." His smile grew. "It was a pretty good drawing. The resume wasn't bad, either."

She was rather glad to hear that his day had not involved the kind of excitement she thought it might for him.  Though, she sympathized with the mundane portion of it – the way he said bills just made her cringe.  No one liked bills, least of all those who had to pay them by themselves, so Akiva understood.  She thought she might pat him on the shoulder, but decided not to.  It seemed that the whole physical contact thing was attributed to interaction between those who shared different feelings than those between the two.  Of course, that thought was a little loaded.

Akiva had no way of reading Dreogan’s mind and she certainly wasn’t sure how she felt.  She told herself that they were just friends, but the fact that she had to continue to remind herself made it very difficult for even her to believe it.  She got butterflies when she talked about him sometimes, and when she told her parents they were going out as friends they gave her that telltale look, eyes glancing up at her with the most accusatory expressions over the rims of their coffee cups.  It was terrible.  She had blushed so profusely, it felt like her cheeks were on fire.

Those signs told her that perhaps her feelings were verging more on the side of a crush, but she insisted on persuading herself that it was impossible for him to actually return such a sentiment, considering her place and lack of worldly experience, so she continued to convince herself of these things.  It wasn’t as though she thought it mattered to him, but perhaps she came off as childish and uncultured from having never really been anywhere but England, France, and Germany.  He had been all over the world and did great things – she was just Akiva Katz, librarian. 

His voice jarred her insecure thoughts and she giggled softly, looking at the water under the bridge and wondering where it was in relation to their current location.  “If it was the bridge itself,” Akiva informed him, “I would prefer to just acquiesce and go hiking – or try that snake charming,” she teased, recalling their conversation from the other evening. “But, since it’s not, we’re definitely going to have to go.  It’s about time to be introduced to the other side of Dreogan Eleor, not just the academic library worm,” she teased gently.

She was the biggest library worm, so it was really a compliment in her book.  He spent a lot of time with her, and she liked that.  Something about the fact that he finished his briefing was pleasant and upsetting.  He would be in the library far less, she thought, and though that meant more sleep, it meant less time around.  She put on her best face, however, and laughed at his block on her point about weekend work.  “Good!” she chimed cheerfully, “maybe that means you can take a day or two off from some seriously hard work,” she offered, hoping he would take the advice.

It seemed he was always busy though, and intern applications also made her a little nervous.  Did that mean he wanted other people to come down to the library for him and do that kind of grunt work?  It was another force, in her mind, that she could use to refute the claims of others that he was, in any way, interested in her.  He was obviously busy and couldn’t be bothered to stress himself out like he had doing all the library footwork.  He had to get the resources and then know how to use them, rather than going through all of them to find the relevant information.  She would be supportive though, if it would help with his health, and even though it might take him away, she would be happy for him.

“Maybe that kind of creativity is what you need,” she said, actually intrigued. “I mean, anyone can write a treatise on their qualifications and reasoning, but to draw it – I don’t know, there’s certainly something there, in my mind.  It means they think outside the box, and I think that could be useful in your kind of work – especially with a resume that wasn’t bad either.”  She had never been that creative, and she thought it was neat that a child would do something like that with something that many would interpret to be a standard essay prompt.  “What are the plans you have for your interns?” she asked, trying to covertly get information about how much library work he intended to give them and where she would fit into it.  A little selfish, but she couldn’t help but wonder.  She was already imaging far less interaction – and it actually made her stomach a little upset. Just friends she reminded herself, just friends.

"I wouldn't want a climbing expedition to turn into a swim meet," he said, smiling. "I like sports, but I don't mix well with water," he said . Truthfully, Dreogan himself was a decent swimmer, and he had no doubt that both he and Akiva would have a completely water-less climb even if they were to explore the outside of the bridge. After all, Akiva seemed a woman who could do just about anything. And he'd seen her perfectly at home on that ladder.

He recalled their conversation in the library, where she talked about her lofty dreams. Akiva could have been, he decided, anything she wanted. Perhaps due to a lack of ambition, or perhaps an unwillingness to compromise worldly success for principles -- Dreogan recalled her closeness to her family both emotionally and physically and respected these priorities. He didn't believe that mere circumstance could keep her down -- whatever the cause, Akiva's hesitation in her career was prompted by something purely Kiva, something that Dreogan was finding increasingly pleasant in this world of hustle and bustle.

Dreogan pushed his hands deeper into his pockets as he walked, blushing slightly at the mention of another side of him. "Well," he hesitated dramatically, if you haven't seen the other side of me, it's because this is my good side," he grinned as he looked at her sidelong. "But if you're so curious," he said, crossing behind her to stand on her left side, "this is my other side." He slowed in his walking so she might be able to take it all in, shifting the angle of his chin and looking up at the Monument. Really, this was a beautiful part of town, though not one place seemed to be free of its ghosts. He looked back at her and shrugged. "But, as I said," he slowed further so he could cross back behind her and take the left side -- his father had always taught him to walk on the innermost path to guard women from all those traveling C's: cars, camels, carriages, coaches, carpets . . .

He rubbed the back of his neck as he thought.

"At any rate, you're about to see another side of my life. Not all books. This restaurant, Gil's, it's family owned and the Bohns have been friends with the Eleors for as long as I can remember. 'Gil' owns it, and has for nearly forty years -- first Gilead., then his son, Gil Sr., then his son, Gil Jr." He smirked. "Gil's a character. And just like his predecessors. There's a joke in the family that the oldest son must always be named Gil, or they'd have to change the sign. But Mrs Bohn's growing increasingly concerned that there won't even be a son in Gil's case. He's a year older than me and, well," Dreogan paused dramatically, raising his eyebrows, "he's shirking his Jewish duties, clearly." He laughed. "He'd hate me for telling you. And love it. Gil loves to know people and be known, whatever the reputation. Though I'd love to see the look on his face when he sees that not only does he not know about you, but you do not know about him. But yeh, we've been friends since before I can remember; it'd probably be an unlikely friendship otherwise. In fact, I think I'd have hated him in school if we hadn't already liked each other. His brothers, too." He looked slightly bashful. "They . . . tease."

He turned and the feel of London shifted yet again beneath them as they moved through a small park of olive trees and pansies. A man sat feeding pigeons and Dreogan looked about a moment, shifting gears.

He smiled as she explained the coverletter. "You're probably right on the creativity, but you'd be surprised; not just anyone can write a treatise; though I'm sure you could. You, Miss Katz, might be hard-pressed to limit your accomplishments to a page, though," he chuckled. Writing was likely so second-nature to the librarian that she couldn't fathom it as an actual skill. "I could produce some rather convincing pieces of evidence, but I wouldn't put you through the task of reading them. I've made you read so many other dry pieces of reading, I wouldn't want to add these to the list. But no, you're right. Thinking outside of the box -- and in -- is crucial. The Ministry's made it clear to me they'd like me to take on two if I can, as recompense for the indulgence of letting me remain so long in London. I'm happy to oblige, of course, but I don't expect they'll help reduce my work load any; I grow frustrated with people who treat interns like cheap labour. The purpose is to educate the younger workers and prepare them. I'll have them shadow me in my day-to-day tasks and explain logistics . . . one minute . . . " he noted they'd made a slight wrong turn as they exited the park, he being so engrossed in the conversation. He steered her to the right, his hand placed lightly on the small of her back.

"Sorry. I got a bit turned around. Er. . . so, yeh, I want to help them with the logistics, but I also hope they'll research the other magical communities. They'll be meeting with foreign dignitaries and mages as a part of the job and they should know their backgrounds and histories. Ideally, I'll find other foreign mages they can converse with and roundtable with. Who knows," he shrugged. As they waited for a crosswalk light to change, he grinned. "Do you think I should go so far as to stage some disputes for them to settle?" His smile grew roguish. "They wouldn't need to know they were staged, of course." He laughed, implying this was a mere jest, but the lingering smile that played upon his lips betrayed that he was, in fact, thinking through scenarios.

“I’m going to echo your sentiment on that,” she laughed softly, “Though, I thought you were the one who liked swimming,” she added with curiosity, having remembering their talk of beaches and Israel and France, her voicing her distaste for water, though she had never really said why.  She had been stung by a jellyfish when she was young which made her nervous, and she was absolutely petrified of drowning.  As long as she could stand in the water, she didn’t worry too much, but having to actually swim, it made her skin crawl. 

They never knew why she had such an inborn fear of large bodies of water, but it was certainly a very real one for Akiva.  Whoever said it was necessary to have an underlying reason for fear didn’t know Akiva Katz.  Sometimes she considered trying to get over her fear, but deemed it impossible by herself and she wasn’t sure how she would even go about the process. 

Her thoughts changed as he crossed behind her and gave her the opportunity to ‘take him in.’ She saw only a slight difference, as no one’s face was perfectly symmetrical, however, it was nothing that would indicate to her that it was not a good side.  Of course, he was joking – and it was only proper to respond in much the same manner.  Giggling softly, she shook her head.  “I think both of your sides are good,” she declared, a smirk playing at her lips.  She didn’t imagine that there could be much about him that could be bad.

Everyone had their flaws, of course, but from what she had seen, they were just a propensity to work too hard and care too much.  At any rate, those things couldn’t be considered major flaws in the same way gambling and drinking could have been.  The only one that might kill him was the work thing, but with the right people around, she figured he could be curbed.  Perhaps that’s why he worked so hard – because his brother was far away, but she thought she remembered him mentioning his mother in London, so that didn’t all connect the way she would have liked it to.  However, the rest of his life seemed nice and she was excited for the chance to get to know him.  She didn’t know how many people had that privilege when he was so busy, and it was nice to think she was one of few.

Listening to him talk about his friend, Akiva nodded along as he spoke, taking in the story, giggling where appropriate and just listening at others.  It sounded like a wonderfully amusing friendship, and there was a degree of playful energy between the two, she could tell already.  She thought to comment on the shirking of Jewish duties as a joke for the both of them, but somehow felt that he might trip and fall off the side of the bridge if she were to tease too much.  It was the last thing she wanted to do, naturally, and she liked him too much to make him feel very uncomfortable.  Of course, that thought made her cheeks light up a bit.  She had to, once again, remind herself of the circumstances and reign herself in. “I can’t wait to meet him,” Kiki smiled, “and I don’t see what they have to tease about.  I hope you give them Hell back,” she added with some degree of force.

His compliment forced her to blush and Akiva was not used to having other people give her that sort of praise.  George had always thought it was cute that she worked in a bookstore and that she had been promoted to manager, it was a passing fancy for him, something he probably though she would give up upon marriage.  Now, as a librarian, she had a rather more intensive and impressive job, but few people outside of her family and closest friends recognized it.  Fewer realized just how hard she worked to get to this place in her life and all the things she did for people whenever she could.  “Thank you,” she said bashfully, “but these kids must be so talented already.  I can’t imagine already thinking about interning at sixteen or seventeen.  And if hiring two is the least you could do to stick around, maybe three or four would be better…” she was half-joking with her bright smile. 

Akiva was surprised when she felt his hand on her back and was being steered.  She let him steer her, since he knew where they were going and she couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling.  “Just make sure you don’t bore them too much with those documents,” she teased, bringing up a previous point in their conversation.  “Though, better them than me,” she winked at him, laughing all the while.

Her expression changed to amused astonishment though, at his display of wolfish sort of tact about this idea.  He appeared to like it quite a lot, and well, if one wanted to learn something, it was best to be thrown directly into the flame, wasn’t it?  “Well, I think that would be great,” she added with eagerness, sort of bouncing as she quickened the pace – she didn’t really like the whole crossing the street thing.  “I mean, if it was part of the job and staged, of course.  You don’t want to throw them right into a real volatile situation, but a fake one… well, maybe you could save it for the end.”  She was very much enjoying the thought, “You know, as sort of a final test… practice the theory with a final exam of sorts.” 

“Of course, be ready with presents at the end,” she smiled at him, “especially if it’s going to be as hard as I think it would be.  You know, their own briefcases or stationary,” she winked, how much kids would appreciate that.  Of course, she had to admit, it would be rather amusing.  “Or… something more appealing, like galleons.”  That would probably be far more pleasant to a teenager.  It would have been when she was that age, anyway.  "But, I think that would be great - really useful if they really want to enter the field.  Experience is key, right?" she asked with a hint of uncertainty - she hoped she didn't sound stupid, and clutched at her little bag anxiously-  hopefully that didn't come off half as bad as she thought it might have.

"I don't like swimming in a harness," Dreogan said with a soft laugh, leaving that mode of thinking with a teasing smile and a slight, amused roll of the eyes.

As she told him both sides were good, he smirked. "Well . . . I guess I'd have to say the same for you, too." Dreogan had never really learned how to accept compliments; only fire them right back. "Having just stood on both sides, I think I like them equally well. You're very . . . symmetrical," he teased. Though he really had to admit, she was stunning. He usually didn't  have the nerve to speak to such beautiful women; especially the blondes. They intimidated him. But he was growing increasingly glad he had made an exception in this instance. It helped that she was just a few inches shorter than her, as well. If she had been taller . . . forget it. Dreogan didn't go for the Amazonian woman-type. That was more Adon's speciality.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” Kiki smiled, “and I don’t see what they have to tease about.  I hope you give them Hell back,” she added with some degree of force.

"Well, if you can't see it, it's because I didn't let you have a truly lingering glance at my bad side," he said, raising his eyebrow, than shaking his head. "No. They're always just been . . . louder. I don't think I was ever that quiet, but by comparison, they thought I was shy." He grinned now. "But that was before they saw my revenge. I most certainly get them back. But," he said with an air of superiority, "I don't start things. . . I just finish them."

"Three or four? You can't be serious . . ." Dreogan had since talked to Professor Fraiser, who had made clear how difficult these younger students could be and was slightly less enthusiastic than before. But anything that remotely resembled teaching still made his heart beat a little faster . . . I didn't realise how much he had missed it.

He looked at her face. "Ah, I see you aren't. Good. But can you imagine? Me and my flock of chickens trailing after me like some mother hen. I could only imagine the reputation," he said, shaking his head in melodramatic shock.

When she mentioned boring documents, Dreogan blushed, trying not to cringe. Yeah. Another dinner was in order for that. He hadn't realised just how much he had been asking of Akiva when she volunteered to help. He had desperately needed the help, and she had been there . . . She had been wonderful that way.

At her enthusiasm for -- well, either for crossing the street or his ruse -- Dreogan couldn't help but laugh softly as she positively bounded ahead of him. Dreogan picked up his feet to catch up. "They get a small stipend at the end," he said with a smile. "But I'm going to take them to dinner, too. And I think I already have a couple of willing accomplices for my ruse," he said, raising his eyebrow at her. "Gil I knew would be in, but I didn't know you had an eye for mischief."

He slowed as they were nearly a block away, coming into sight of a sign which read, predictably, "Gil's" over the roof. He couldn't talk about Gil in front of Gil, and so he leisurely strolled, waiting for her response.

“You? Shy?” she giggled, “I can’t imagine.”  She knew many shy people, for instance, Dr. Spindler of the Astrolab was a particularly shy man.  He had been a physics professor – a colleague of her father’s and a friend to him as well when he was in the muggle world, but notoriously terrible for human interaction.  He had a terrible stutter at times and Akiva had coaxed him into a conversation once but only because she was her father’s daughter and understood the world of math and science, even in just the most basic ways.  She knew how men of science thought and could talk to them as such – though she could not help when they got awkward.

As smart as she was,   she never really connected the dots.  Sure, people called her pretty, but she never imagined she was prettier than the next woman who walked down the street.  Perhaps it was just that she was not the typical kind of girl they expected to see working in the library.  George had always joked that she would be an excellent print model (she was too short for the runway, and just a little too full), but he offered to get her a photo shoot once, just for fun.  She resisted, however, and was now glad for it.  Whatever the case, she shook her head with a laugh.

"I don't start things. . . I just finish them."

“That’s what they all say, I’m told,” she smirked, teasing him gently.  He seemed very convinced that was how it went, however, and somehow, she didn’t doubt it.  He didn’t seem the type to start a fight, but he could certainly end one.  He radiated a sort of energy like that, especially in the heat of a conflicted area – she had seen that well enough at the ceremony.  She was curious now, as to how exactly something was going to start – and what was going to end it. 

She again shook her head at him, however, and smiled. “I think your reputation wouldn’t be hurt at all,” she offered.  “I would be impressed, if you could juggle that many interns ad your career at the same time.”  She shrugged her shoulders, “I guess that’s me though.  I always found something about teachers very inspiring,” she informed him.  Though she made sure to skillfully leave out the fact that she had been head over heels for Gilderoy Lockhart for a time.  He did have the best smile in Britain – and he might not have been the most skilled of fighters (only found out later), but he did look smashing in that gear! Oh, the mind of a teenage girl.

Blushing softly at the implied invitation to be part of his little thing, Akiva was not all that interested in being part of the mischief so much as encouraging it.  “They would know me far too well for me to a player,” she informed him, finding the most convenient excuse for not having to play so much into it.  “I could help organize with you, if you wanted, though,” she added with a bright grin, looking forward to see the sign hanging about the restaurant – she recognized as the name he had told her.  It looked nice on the façade, and could not imagine anything different. 

“I’m glad we’re here,” she smiled toward him, “I’m starving!” It was a cheerful declaration, full of hyperbole, and though she was sad to see the end of their pleasant walk, she knew they would have to walk back – and still had dinner.  That was always good!  If it was over already, she would have been quite disappointed.

"It took me two years to make it to the library," Dreogan said guiltily, blushing. "Does that put things into perspective? I get . . . very comfortable in my own routines." Travelling around the Middle East had been helpful in exposing him to more of the world, to forcing him to adapt. The skills had served him well, but he could not deny it: there was a reason why they were going to Gil's restaurant tonight and not somewhere more exotic, more formal, less. . .

He looked up at the sign which read "Gil's." Something less Gil. Yes, that was it.

He smiled bashfully at her comment on teachers, trying not to read between the lines and finding it impossible. It was a craft sort of compliment; the genuine sort. Those always made him more awkward than the insincere ones a person felt obliged to pay to the other person. Formalities, Dreogan understood. This . . . less so.

"Well," he said, "you're very good at organisation. We'll see if you're any good at this sort. Ever tried your hand a organised crime? Or how about prankery?" He looked back at Gil's. He had a very good idea what might start.

And he entered the restaurant anyway, holding the door open for Akiva as she passed through.

The sun having gone down and little light penetrating the full length windows,  the place was dimly lit with glass mission lamps and a few inset candelabras against the wall which looked suspiciously like menorahs. The tables were set atop an ornately patterned carpet and covered in crisp tablecloths, surrounded by spindly chairs. The place appeared to have never changed, rather serving as a frozen moment in history, perhaps the 1930's. Dreogan smiled. "Welcome to --"

"Welcome to Gil's!" a cheerful voice greeted them and a man, not quite middle-aged, appeared and bowed formally, greeting them. "I am Gilead Bohn, and I will be taking care of you this evening," he said, taking Akiva's hand and kissing it. He winked at Dreogan. "And you are?"

Dreogan rolled his eyes at the overly-showy display. "This is Akiva Katz. Kiva, this is Gil."

"Ah-kee-va!" Gil repeated smoothly with a broad smile, quite amused and very much delighted. Dreogan watched the realisation dawn. Pretty. Jewish. British. "A pleasure to meet you." He turned to Dreogan. "And you are? Oh, I know, I know!" he said, seeing Dreogan's face fluctuate between amusement and perturbation. "It's a pleasure to see you both. Now," he said, moving to the host's podium and grabbing two menus and something else--small, "Let me show you to your seats. Madame, monsieur." He gestured broadly and elegantly with his arm towards the expanse of the restaurant.

*Gil's restaurant looks somewhat like this and this.

“I hope more visits to the library become integral parts of your routine,” she smiled at him, genuinely hoping for such an addition.  She liked his visits, they made work far less boring, and she liked getting to know him. When she did get to know who he really was beyond her first impressions, she hoped they would be, at the least, very good friends.  She could never really know what the future would hold or what would happen for anyone, but she did like to imagine that someone like Dreogan could be involved in her’s in some capacity.  She would like that very much, and they already had things planned to do anyway, at least in the short term, it seemed they would be getting along quite well. 

Giggling at his question of organized crime and pranks, Akiva shrugged. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” she smiled brightly, looking at the face of the restaurant.  There was something very old school about it, but not in a bad way.  She felt suddenly like everything should be sepia toned and there was a need for fedoras and trench coats.  Unfortunately, the world could not change filters at the drop of a hat and they were in no position to transfigure things into hats and coats.  It would probably be a little much… huh… she didn’t think her imagination was this active!

It was only set further into motion when the door was opened.  She turned her to flash a thankful smile at Dree for holding the door and practically glided past him and inside.  It was like walking into the past, which amused her and charmed her at the same time.  She could see why he was very familiar with this place, it seemed like the kind of place that one could go when life was changing too much and an anchor was needed.  She was about to comment on how charming it was when she was interrupted by a loud, welcoming voice, her eyes immediately following her ears to the direction of such a greeting. 

She couldn’t help but smile at the tall, dark haired man and giggled as he took her hand.  So this was the Gil that Dreogan had told her of.  He certainly did have a much louder personality than Dreogan did.  Of course, she didn’t see either man worse than the other.  She could only glance at Dree momentarily as he introduced her and her sunny smile faded into a blush and slightly embarrassed smile.  He was teasing Dreogan already, and she could see what he meant when he said he might not have liked him if not for the fact they grew up together.

He seemed charming though and Akiva continued to smile, “It is a pleasure to meet you too, Gil.”  She glanced at Dree to see how he was holding up, he seemed to be doing well.  She took his side, though tried not to be too forceful, just in case, plus she did not want to take the lead – just in case Dree had a particular place to sit in mind, or Gil.  She watched him take the menus and followed the line of his arm, stepping forward and following along.  She was certain this was going to be interesting, and smiled between the two men, unsure as to whether she should go forward or not. She inwardly decided Dreogan would lead.

Well, Gil seemed to be taking to Kiva nicely. And Kiva to Gil. Good. Dreogan smiled at both of them, nodded, and headed in the direction Gil had motioned, assuming they would be placed in the corner, against a window so they could look out and watch night sweep over the city. He was not expecting, however, for a smack on the back of the head -- or so he thought it was -- until he felt the soft heaviness upon his crown and sighed. Something rested there and he knew exactly what it was. "Gil," he said, pulling a yamika from atop his head and now knowing what had been pulled out with the menus, "I can't wear this; work. Remember?" As a representative of the Ministry in a volatile Middle East, Dreogan had promised he would do all he could to not draw attention to his own religious affiliation, a potentially divisive grounds.

Gil pretended not to notice Dreogan's protestations, leaving him with yamika in hand as he stopped in front of a table indeed by a window, but not far from a small, tiled bar had been converted to a buffet. Several of the staff hung around the area, waiting until they were needed and talking amongst themselves, some even sitting upon the bar stools as the spoke. Gil pulled out Akiva's seat as he stopped at a table. Dreogan tried not to care, but could not help but feel a twinge of agitation; he had planned to do that.

He smiled as best he could, placing the yamika on the next table over before seating himself. Gil hovered about indefinitely, giving a silly little bow. "Everything good? All situated?"

"Yes," Dreogan said with a light, forced laugh, and looked across to Akiva. Gil moved to another table, where a middle-aged couple ate. He spoke to them jovially and animatedly.

"Gil," Dree said, glancing over his shoulder to watch him as he talked. "As I said, he doesn't truly need an introduction; he does a good enough job of it himself, don't you think?" Now, the laugh was genuine. He looked about, slightly self-conscious of his choice of restaurant. Maybe somewhere a little more refined, a little less . . . silly.

Dreogan tried to think of a topic of conversation, finding he had to generate a new discussion . . . and having already asked how her day went, he fished around. "This is a Muggle part of town; I bet there are a lot of places like this all around Muggle London. Do you think?"