Mackenzie didn't like the amount of people in the Leaky Cauldron.  It wasn't busy like it usually was, providing cover for him.  Despite the fact that he despised huge amounts of people around him, he didn't enjoy it when anybody could listen in on his conversation with moderate ease, especially when wizards and witches came alone to the bar with nothing to do but sit and drink.  Well, that was what he got when he was polite like a law-abiding citizen.  Nothing but trouble in his way, like a tree fallen in front of a snowplow in the aftermath of a blizzard. 

He looked at his wrist for his watch, but realized he didn't have one for the umpteenth time that day.  He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small clock encased in bronze, checking the time.  It was 8:58, two minutes before Charlie was supposed to make his appearance.  With luck on his side, Mack could escape after having just one beer and finally be free of the man.  He had nothing to do but take off his coat and hat-- and although he didn't want to reveal his face, his sunglasses, hanging them on a coat rack and storing his glasses in his pocket, remembering to do the same with his clock.  He pulled it from his jacket and shoved it in his pants, not trusting anyone with it but himself.

He sat back down at the table farthest from all of the other costumers, expecting him to be there soon, so he could get this overwith.

Charlie walked into the Leaky Cauldron and looked around eagerly. He had pulled himself together quite considerably since the last time the two had met, and he was eager to rectify the man’s opinion of him. It wasn’t hard to spot Mackenzie in the sparse crowd of the pub, and Charlie made his way over to the table where the other man sat waiting.

He had gone home to spruce himself up and came back wearing his Three Owl Standard tee shirt with his favorite pair of skinny jeans. He had styled his blonde hair and he was looking rather dashing, at least he thought he did. “Well hello again,” Charlie said, taking a seat and giving the man a wink. “I’m surprised you actually showed,” He said with a grin, looking around for the waiter.

When the man came, Charlie asked for a butterbeer, he wasn’t huge on drinking in the middle of the day… hell… he wasn’t huge on drinking ever. Unless it was a special occasion, the graduated Hufflepuff usually steered clear of intoxicating beverages.

He saw the door swing open and Charlie stepped into the pub with an eager look on his face, searching for Mackenzie.  He nearly jumped behind the table to hide from the boy but decided against it, smiling as he aproached the table, despite the fact that he wasn't exactly happy to see him.  

The crazy part of his brain thought Charlie would bail, and he had tried to convince himself that he would, but no such luck.  

It appeared as if he was trying to look appealing and it was obvious because he had changed his clothes and hair for the occasion.  Mack had to admit he had done his previous opinion of Charlie some justice, although he wasn't sure why he had bothered to dress differently.  

Ugh.  He winked at me… Charlie greeted him, acknowledging Mack's appearance at the Cauldron.  "Hello," he said.  He hadn't wasted any time sitting down and ordering a butterbeer from the waiter.  "A glass of Van Gogh," he requested his vodka without saying please, silently hoping that Charlie's view of him was degraded if he was less stuck-up and polite.  

Attempting to strike up small talk and learn a bit about the stranger he'd be sitting with for the next half hour, he asked, "How's the family?" Whoops.  He wanted to smash a dent in his forehead with his palm, momentarily forgetting Charlie's tears in Knockturn Alley with no time to fix his error.  There would be no talk about Mackenzie's family, he had none, but he didn't fancy sharing that information.

Charlie’s eyes started to tear up with the criminal’s mention of his family. It was hard not to when the feelings were still so raw. Then Charlie realized that the man was probably just being a gentleman, maybe he was curious about the rest of his family. “Well, mum’s alright. She won’t stop buggering me to ‘get a life’, but that’s what mums are for, I suppose.” He said with a bit of a grin. Weren’t all mothers supposed to meddle in everything and embarrass you for no reason?

“And yours?” Charlie asked, not caring overly much, but it was the polite thing to ask. Maybe Mackenzie had a curse breaker for a sister or a professional Quidditch player for an uncle, that would make their conversation much livelier.

When the wait staff brought the two their drinks, Charlie gave the man a hearty smile. He’d be sure to give the guy a big tip. Mackenzie obviously didn’t go out much, or he’d have been friendlier to their server. The service was extremely speedy, probably because there weren’t very many people in the pub. Charlie grabbed the handle of the mug and lifted the chilled beverage to his lips, drinking daintily. It wouldn’t do for Charlie to make a mess… or worse, to look like a slob… in front of such a nice guy.

It was a bit strange hearing about Charlie's mother nagging him.  Mackenzie's died when he was young, too young to get a job or a "life", for that matter.  He still acted under a thin sheet of despair for what happened to his parents, so he was almost always in a bad mood, like he was a singular dark cloud on a bright sunny day.  He hardly even remembered his mother, so he had almost forgotten why he did what he did.  He understood why Charlie was sad about his father, but Mack didn't even have a family.

"Ah…"  He wasn't sure how to say it.  "Well, it's a bit complicated, yeah?"  He didn't want to throw it right at him, but he would.  "I don't have a mum, or a dad.  Or any relatives in the same country.  Just me."   He had put it quite bluntly, no sob story or anything of the sort.  He didn't want Charlie to have pity because of it, so he kept it simple.

Charlie looked thoughtfully at the man sitting across from him for a full minute, not exactly sure what to say. Sure, he’d lost his papa, but his man had NO family… that must suck. “Uhm… well… at least you don’t have to worry about a nagging mum,” He said, trying without much success to find a silver lining in the situation. Then he started thinking about all the things him mum did for him and the smile slid from his face like boiling acid. He couldn’t even think about losing his mother too without tears coming to his eyes.

“Uh… so… tell me about you,” He said, trying desperately to steer the conversation to safer waters. He didn’t want to turn into a blubbering idiot in a semi-crowded pub and he certainly didn’t want the attractive man sitting with him to see him sob… again. He crossed his legs and started to pick at his cuticles, a sure sign of his being uncomfortable.

Mackenzie could tell without much effort that Charlie was uncomfortable.  His body language was screaming it; his smile disappearing like Emelia Earhart on her final flight, and his nervous fiddling with his nails.  Mackenzie would've volunteered to change the subject if Charlie hadn't already picked one.  He nearly cringed as the other man asked about him, his own personal life.  He would have to recall his cover story he had last used so long ago; improvise and hope for the best. 

 Mackenzie was probably feeling more awkwardthan Charlie at that point, and although the room was cold and his coat was off, he was sweating.  His face revealed nothing, he hoped.  "I've had a job as a dragon keeper since I graduated from Hogwarts, it's an interesting job, really," he lied.  Luck is on your side.  Charlie won't ask a single question.  He'll just move on.  Please don't ask.  His thoughts dropped off from his positive outlook to uncertainty.  He was a criminal with far more pressing matters than a perfect cover job, he had no idea what else he could say.  Come up with a dragon breed and say he named it something?  He had used it before, and maybe it would work again.  He continued on, ignoring the dragon keeper bit for later. "I'm in a flat alone, but I have a friend nearby, so I guess it's alright." At least he wasn't lying.

Finally, a topic Charlie could talk for days on. Dragons. He had studied the fine creatures since he was a little boy and he had thought about becoming a dragon tamer himself, though the good sense of his family and friends spared him that fate. He simply wasn't cut out for such a dangerous and tough job. His love for magical creatures was one of the main reasons he had taken up a job within Level 4 at the Ministry. The creatures department, as many playfully nicknamed it. "Oooh," He said, his face lighting up, completely ignoring Mackenzie's awkward sweating. "What breeds? I used to want to breed dragons, kind of a passion of mine, but I gave it up... still... I work for the Department for the Restriction and Control of Magical Creatures, how come I haven't seen you in the offices? Most of the dragon tamers come in to turn in reports and stuff." Perhaps Charlie had just missed him, he was a rather busy man.

"I just work in the werewolf wing as the registry clerk. I wish I had a more exciting job, but I'll deal with what I have for now," He said, the smile returning to his face. His emotions seemed to be working like a faulty faucet today, hot one moment and chilled the next.

He asked questions.  Wonderful.  Now Mackenzie had to conjure up a bunch of dragon breeds or Charlie would expect something was off.  Not to mention a reason why he never saw him in the Department for the Restriction and Control of Magical Creatures.  "Well, our most recent addition is a Norweigen Ridgeback, and she is huge." He paused, trying to read Charlie and see if he believed him.  "I'm not exactly sure why I haven't seen you, I tend to dress in bland colors so I'm pretty hard to recognize," he lied.  With luck, Charlie would start talking about his job and Mack wouldn't have to make something else up. 

Charlie almost couldn’t contain his excitement, and he hung on the man’s every word. He didn’t take in the man’s frame and find a lack of severe scaring, nor did he think too deeply into his story. If he had, he would have seen right through the man’s bullshit and left right then. As it was, Charlie was infatuated. He placed his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands, letting his chin rest on his fists. A twinkle filled the boy’s gleeful face and he let out a short bark of laughter.

“You’ll have to take me to see her one day. I love dragons! I’ve always wanted to go and find them in the wild, y’know, outside of dragon reserves and such. I hear there are a few wild groups of Chinese Fireball’s in the Asian countryside. We don’t have many reports of rogue dragons coming through the office these days, seems like all the wild ones know better than to come within our borders.” Charlie took a quick swig of his butterbeer to stop his rambling.

 “It’s possible I just missed you,” Charlie said with a shrug, “I mean, I work for the Werewolf Wing anyway, and dragons are under a completely separate subsection. So what do you do when you’re not wrangling vicious fire breathing beasts?”

Mack ignored Charlie's obvious excitement, more worried about what else he did for a living.  He pondered for a moment, then said, "Well… I'm an… author, of sorts.  I have written a few drafts for a nonfiction book I've been preparing," he finished, satisfied with his lie.  That was hardly his profession, in fact, nearly the opposite.  He was a vandal, not a writer, and dragons and words on pages were quite different from eachother, constrasts hitting anyone who thought about it for a split second like a slugger smashing a homerun. 

Mackenzie wanted desperately to change the subject.  But, to his disapointment, no small topics came to mind.  An air of awkwardness came over him.  "So… Ah, how did you like Hogwarts?  I'm assuming it's your Alma Mater?" he asked,  in a slightly nervous, high-pitched voice.