“Howell! Trash!”

Wiping steam from his eyes, Jack looked up from the bucket of mugs and pint glasses to nod at his boss, “Right… Ah’m on it gaffa’”. Peeling off his gloves, Jack took one last look at the pile of mugs littering the counter and sighed. He’d have to work a few extra hours past close tonight to get them all clean. He had come to find that working without magic in a world that expected you to do it in a snap of your fingers (or in this case, wands) was proving to be… difficult. It seemed like he had to do ten times the amount of work just to keep his boss happy enough to keep him. Luckily, Jack was used to working hard. In fact, he kinda enjoyed it. But a break was nice and taking out the trash was about the only one he got.

There was another reason he enjoyed taking out the rubbish though. His name was, as far as Jack was concerned, Beowulf (Though he would have spelt it Bayowolf). Jack wasn’t well read enough to have read the book but he had overheard the name a few years before when he was taking shelter in a library. It had ‘wolf’ in it, so he figured it was a good name for the mutt. This Beowulf was less a great warrior and more a musty mutt of dubious origins. He was a nice dog though, with a big smile and one floppy ear, and eyes that tugged at Jack’s heartstrings (Though that was hardly a difficult task). Judging by his scars, he had a hard life yet he remained sweet natured and friendly. Though he would never compare himself to the noble creature, those who knew Jack well could easily make the comparison between the two.

With a day old pastrami sandwich in one hand, and several overfilled bags of trash in the other, Jack made his way to the back of the Sword and Chant where Beowulf was predictably waiting for his evening snack. When he saw Jack, or perhaps the pastrami sandwich, he got excited and his tail wagged so hard that his entire back end seemed to join it. Grinning, Jack dropped the trash bags and fell to his knees in front of his little friend “Com’ere ya daft mutt and eat up.”

Tossing the sandwich to Beowulf, Jack sighed happily as he chowed down, though his expression turned sad when he added “Ah wish ah could keep ye, but ah don’t think me flat allows it.”

Bethan knew you were allowed to be less discrete when apparating into or out of magical areas, but there wasn't much of anything discrete about the petite blonde firecracker even in an alleyway, so popping into the dank area behind her Tuesday night haunt didn't seem all that peculiar, even in  a magical district. It wasn't the first time she'd chosen the back alleyway over the high street when coming around the Sword and Chant, and now that she was well aware who lived in her alley of choice, it wouldn't be the last. She didn't need to kick back with a pint that badly. Her life wasn't quite that stressful, although her social life could have used a boost. The main attraction of this particular pub – and this particular alley - was the mutt. She'd come prepared with a pocket full of leftovers and she wore no gloves... in the interest of optimal petting, of course. She was on a mission. 

She'd always wanted a dog from the time she was tiny, and she'd always heard from her parents that as soon as she moved out she could hoard as many animals as she liked. If she was being honest with herself, she really thought she'd have moved out of her parents' house by now – that had been the plan, anyway, and it had fallen through as soon as she'd gotten her exam results. She didn't like dogs any less now that she was a perennial disappointment, though, and she still wanted one, so it made sense that when she met the sweetest little mutt on the street, looking sad and begging for belly rubs, well... she acquiesced. She fell in love, as a girl who loved dogs was wont to do when faced with a big old floppy pup who came when he heard her whistling, just like a real pet. Visiting the sad-eyed creature was her new Tuesday night ritual.

She was surprised to see another person back there, and she wasted no time making that quite plain. “Oh,” she remarked, standing over the scrappy looking duo, her arm akimbo to her hip, her expression generally unimpressed. “Is this your dog? I didn't think he belonged to anybody,” she remarked simply, her hand brushing against the outside of a pocket full of chicken, feeling kind of foolish. Maybe it was the wrong sort of reaction. She should have been happy that a dog she loved and had taken for homeless actually belonged to someone – but instead she found herself feeling dumb, plus a little bit sad. Nothing really went her way, did it? This was just another thing to throw on top of the pile. She couldn't even pretend to have a dog properly?!

She could only feel so dejected, though, because not a moment later the scruffy little head of her buddy popped up and the furry beast was galumphing his way toward her, tongue dribbling out of the side of his mouth. His one prone ear was now erect, and he wasted no time jumping and scampering up her body to frantically lick the crook of her neck. Beth's whole demeanor changed in an instant, her disappointed expression melting into a wide grin, her eyes going soft. “Hiya, Mutt!” she greeted him with a laugh, scratching him around his neck. “What, you missed me? Or you missed my mum's cooking? Oh, get down, you,” she grinned. Maybe she could pretend to have a dog for just a little while longer...

There was a familiar pop of disapparation but Jack didn't pay it much mind. Back alleys were a brilliant spots to disapperate, private and out of the way if you didn't mind rubbish and rats greeting you, and he wasn't going to ruin someones commute by prying. Instead, he focused on Beowulf and scratched his lopsided ears with a grin. Wulf seemed a bit preoccupied by the new presence, however, and even Jack's famous ear scratch couldn't disuade him from sniffing the air. Curious, Jack followed suit and was just barely able to make out a somewhat familiar feminine scent amongst the rubbish and left over pastrami. It wasn't particularly familiar to him, perhaps a regular patron or someone similar, but Wulf seemed quite excited to smell her. His butt begin to wiggle even more enthusiastically and Jack finally turned to see who it was just as she spoke.

“Oh, Is this your dog? I didn't think he belonged to anybody,”

"Ehm..." Jack quickly stumbled to his feet and loomed over her awkwardly. Despite the fact that she was nearly a foot shorter, something about the way the diminutive blond stood there with a hand on her hip and a brows arched, compelled Jack to stand sheepishly under her gaze. He tried to think of a good retort but it became readily apparent that she wasn't paying him much mind anyways. She seemed a lot more interested in Wulf and he reciprocated, barreling around Jack to jump on her and lick her enthusiastically.

“What, you missed me? Or you missed my mum's cooking? Oh, get down, you,”

Watching the touching tableau in front of him left Jack feeling rather dejected. He always knew that Wulf had other 'caregivers' since the dog wasn't entirely bones and a few pastrami sandwiches here and there wasn't much, but he had always kinda hoped he was the favorite one. One sniff of that delicious chicken made it clear why that couldn't possibly be the case. It smelt good enough that Jack's stomach grumbled jealously. He hadn't eaten anything since lunch.

"Ehm... Ah'll jes'... let ye two be, then..." He said slowly, scratching the back of his neck heistantly but not moving. He kinda hoped that Wulf would sense his pain, but if a pretty blond was feeding him tender chunks of chicken, he probably wouldn't either.

Beth didn't fear apparating into dark, sketchy alleyways in the evening. Her father thought she should, and he always told her off when he found out she'd apparated home at night instead of just flooing. It was probably because he knew his youngest daughter as well as anyone, and could have anticipated the scene that was coming to play. There stood Beth, tiny and unassuming, and in the darkness stood Jack looming over her, casting a mighty shadow against the brick wall beside them in the moonlight. A good handle on magic could do a lot for a person's self image, though, and Beth knew her way around a wand. Even though she stood two heads shorter than the bloke in the alley, in her mind she loomed over him. She wasn't afraid of alleyways, but she also wasn't afraid of people.

To be honest, she wasn't even thinking about the other human that was afoot while she had a dog who needed to be scratched about the ears. When the mutt finally landed back on all fours he spoke again, however, and Beth wasn't so distracted by the presence of the dog that she didn't look up. She squinted one eye at him as she set about blindly scratching the mutt, keeping her hands moving even while her eyes were trained on him. “Wait,” she spoke, “Wait a second. Is he your dog or isn't he?” she asked, not unkindly, as her hands worked at the semi-matted fur. “He's out here all the time. Well, he's out here every Tuesday, anyway. I just figured he wasn't anybody's, since he's always hungry and that. Plus, he stinks to high hell,” she remarked, smirking at the creature, whose eyes were trained on her pocket.

“What?” she asked the dog, her smile extending. “How hungry can you be? You were just eating! I saw you!” she snorted with amusement. Apparently that wasn't enough to keep her from reaching into her cloak pocket for the foil wrapped chicken breast, though. The starved creature's tail looked about ready to wag itself off of his body and fly away as soon as the treat was in view. Beth plucked a bit of the tender flesh and held it up, enjoying the temporary power she had over the creature, who was watching her like she was the only person in the world... and Beth had a grin on her face like it was true. “Sit,” she ordered firmly, but before she could even see if the animal would follow through she was looking up at the young man again. “I like to make him work for it. He's smarter than he looks,” she insisted, opening up her palm to offer the now seated mutt his treat.

“Wait, Wait a second. Is he your dog or isn't he? He's out here all the time. Well, he's out here every Tuesday, anyway. I just figured he wasn't anybody's, since he's always hungry and that. Plus, he stinks to high hell,”

"Well, 'e ain't mine exactly bu' ah feed 'im most days..." Jack said slowly, battling with the urge to say 'yes'. He wasn't Beowulf's owner, as much as he would like to be, and he didn't want to claim as much. Wulf was a dog of his own means. A dog about town, if you will. He didn't want an owner and didn't need one, not with all the, presumably, pretty young woman feeding him. It would presumptuous for Jack to suggest otherwise and ruin a perfectly good chance for the old mutt to have a homecooked meal. Merlin knows that his corner store, day old pastrami sandwiches were no where near as delicious smelling as that chicken.

In the end, it didn't matter much what he said. She was already back to the dog. He could have claimed ownership of the moon and she probably wouldn't have noted. It didn't seem intentional, though, so he took it in stride and fell silent, watching as she attempted to get Wulf to work for his dinner.

“I like to make him work for it. He's smarter than he looks,”

Jack watched as Wulf slowly sat long enough to devour the bit of chicken and felt a measure of pride of both the dog and himself, having been the one to train him in the first place. Suddenly, all his awkward feelings from before faded and Jack crouched down next to her as though they were old friends. "'e can do more then tha'. 'e's dead cleva' this un. Ah taught 'im a few others... watch..." he grinned, snatching a chunk of chicken from her hand without a second thought. Holding up a piece, he said firmly "Sit...paw... other paw..." each command was followed dutifully by Wulf. First he plopped his dusty rear back down and then pawed at Jacks outstretched palm with one, and then the other, dirt coated paw.

"Ok... and the coop de graw, BANG!" Jack made the shape of a gun with his hand and pretended to shoot Wulf, who whimpered lightly before falling over on his side and rolling to his back, his tongue even curling out of the corner of his mouth theatrically. "Look a'im... actin' all dramatic. Tha' tongue is hangin' ou' just fer 'er, innit? Daft mutt." He laughed, grinning at the dog as he flipped over and gobbled up the treat greedily.

"Ah think 'e likes workin' fer 'is dinner... Makes 'im feel useful..." He said, his voice briefly turning wistful as he sucked in his lips thoughtfully, as though he truly understood the feeling. Then, as quickly as it came, it was gone and he was giving her a friendly smile and a hand in greeting "Name's Jack Howell... I work 'ere at the pub. Ah think ye 'ave been in before, yeah? You sme... seem familiar."

Bethan watched the mutt and the man as they put on their little show, her mouth hanging open just slightly in a frozen, suspended little grin of awe, like she was looking to catch flies. For all she wanted one, Beth really didn't have too much experience with dogs. They just weren't the most abundant of creatures in the wizarding world, though they were quite popular in general. She knew dogs could sit and lay down and maybe even roll over, and even just getting them to walk on a leash made them seem far more useful than any of the many cats she'd come to know over the years. She wouldn't have even thought to train one to fall over dead on command! She produced an amused, solitary 'ha!' of a laugh as the creature's tongue lolled out of its mouth.

“Well, what do you know, like. He's more clever than I ever gave him credit for, isn't he?” she smiled, giving the dog another good scruff around the neck once he'd procured his treat. “It just goes to show, erm... well, it goes to show you shouldn't doubt mutts, no matter the stench. How'd you go about teaching him, anyway?” she asked, sounding about as genuinely interested as she could get. She figured sitting was basic, but beyond that she was stumped. She definitely, without a single doubt, planned on owning a dog of her own one day, so she figured it was good information to have. Any dog she owned would have to be just as clever as a street mutt, if not even more so, and she wanted to be able to prove it.

”Name's Jack Howell... I work 'ere at the pub. Ah think ye 'ave been in before, yeah? You sme... seem familiar.”

“Beth,” she replied, giving him a nod in greeting. “I'm here most Tuesdays, like I said. I'm working at the Broomsticks down in Hogsmeade, and it's my night off, so I like to get as far away from there as I can without forsaking civilization,” she smirked, tossing the dog another chunk of chicken while she spoke. Nobody had ever accused her of withholding information. “That's good that you're looking out for him,” she added, finally giving in and placing the whole foil wrapped package on the ground so the dog could dig into it. “Makes me feel less like complete trash for only stopping by once a week.”

Jack wasn't used to receiving compliments, especially glowing ones, so he was struck completely dumbfounded when she offered him one so effortlessly. Staring sidelong at her, he tried to figure out if she was being sarcastic or malicious. When he realized that she wasn't taking the piss, but was honestly pleased, his face split into a wide grin and his ears flushed a bright pink. Ducking his head, he murmured bashfully "It weren't much. Jus' gave 'im treats when 'e did what ah asked..."

He barely had a chance to mutter that before she unleashed a deluge of information. Her name, her job, her Tuesday night plans. Considering that most of the people in his life were incredibly secretive, her honestly was refreshing... and a bit daunting. All he could do was just crouch there and stare at her, wide-eyed and bemused. Several seconds passed before he realized she had finished, with another compliment. He quickly tore his eyes away, flushing again.

"Ehm... Ah do wha' ah can. Even mardy mutts like 'im deserve a decent nosh now an' again, right?" He gave her a humble one-shouldered shrug, as if he didn't deserve the compliment, though the corner of his mouth threatened to curl into a satisfied grin. "Yer not trash... Ah bet 'e really looks forward to ya coming. A 'omecooked meal like tha' is always a treat...Ah know it'd make me day if ah was 'im..." Jack offered, with a smile. He hoped his compliment made her feel as good as hers did for him.

"HOWELL! WHERE THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU BOY??"

"Oh... shite." He groaned. He had completely lost track of time. Giving her an apologetic smile, he sighed "Sorry, me gaffa' needs me. If ya want a pint, come in an' ah will treat ya t'one when ah'm off."

Beth didn't realize she was handing out compliments. She just figured she was talking, which is what they normally called it when her lips were moving and sound came out. She was lucky, in that way – she'd come from a family where children were never degraded, where being kind when it was deserved was par for the course, and where compliments rolled off her back because they weren't rare enough to seem all that noteworthy. Plus, she'd been the baby of her family by a very wide margin, so she was humored regularly. When she talked, someone always listened. In her mind, there wasn't anything out of the ordinary about this little covert meeting – not even the location really fazed her. She squatted down to be closer to the dog while he shoved his nose into the little silver package of meat and began devouring, looming right at his eye level, grinning.

”Yer not trash... Ah bet 'e really looks forward to ya coming. A 'omecooked meal like tha' is always a treat...Ah know it'd make me day if ah was 'im..”

“Is that a fact?” Bethan asked him, a crooked smile on her face. “Well, I won't say I made it. I just stole  it from the kitchen, but then, I do that every week, so nobody's missing it. I'll let mum know you appreciate it, like, but I won't go mentioning that you didn't actually try it yourself. I'd offer you a sample, but...” she trailed off, indicating the dog, who was currently devouring her offering, drooling all over it and gnawing on a little bone. “I mean, if you want it, go ahead,” she teased, snickering softly under her breath. “Just don't go blaming me if he tries to eat your face.”

The sudden roar from the pub didn't quite startle Beth, but it did put a grumpy twist in her lips. She hated when people had to work at work, especially when she was in the middle of a conversation! She snapped her head in the direction of the shout and her grimace grew more severe, seeming to mock the angry sounding source of the shouting. “Merlin, if anyone tried treating me like that...” she remarked with a subtle shake of her head. “It's just a bleeding pub. It's not like you're saving lives in there. And that's not a judgment. I'm a barmaid, like I said. I just don't see a reason for the screaming, is all.”

”If ya want a pint, come in an' ah will treat ya t'one when ah'm off.”

“Yeah, yeah. I'll be along,” she told him with a smile, though the way he was being treated really was rubbing her the wrong way. Sure, he was outside chatting and playing with mutts during his shift, and maybe that was wrong, but still! She stuck around outside for a while longer, messing around with the dog – she liked running up and down the alleyway while he chased after her, seeming to grin in that way that only dogs could as the chilly air blew his floppy ears back. She hadn't brought a ball, which may have added some complexity to the game, but they both seemed satisfied with wandering back and forth like a coupe of loons, and it never quite occurred to Beth that rolling around on the ground in an alley behind a pub was strange or unsanitary.

She did come inside eventually, looking quite ruffled and flushed, but happy. It wasn't everyone's idea of an evening at the pub, but her life was one long evening at the pub, so she preferred the mutt wrangling to the monotony. Removing her layers, Beth settled down at the bar and glanced around for her partner in dog feeding. She hadn't asked what he did at the pub, so she wasn't entirely sure where she should have been looking. Content to wait, she ordered herself a cocktail and had herself a little chat with the bloke behind the bar.

“Yeah, yeah. I'll be along,”

"Wicked." His lips curled into a goofy, lopsided grin as he watched her and Wulf for a moment. The sweet scene wrapped him in the same strange blanket of warmth that he felt when he had met Fauna. Hopefully he wouldn't ruin this meeting by insulting her. Bethan seemed like a nice girl, despite her habit of apparating into back alleys, and he wondered if she would like him if she knew what he was. She liked dogs, that much was clear, but that didn't always translate to liking reluctant wolf-men. In his experience, few things did.

His hand found the back of his head and he scratched at the scars absent-mindedly, lost in his thoughts. It wasn't until his boss stormed out that he was yanked back into reality, quite literally. After a quick working over, complete with sheepish looks and plenty of 'Sorry boss' and 'won't 'appen again, boss', Jack was back to scrubbing the dishes with a renewed intensity. He even surprised himself at how quickly he managed to get through them, especially since the gaffer kept adding more. By the time he pulled the drain, his arms were an ombre of red and tan and his shirtfront was damp with what he hoped was just water. He sniffed himself to be sure.

It had taken nearly an hour and a half, and Jack was worried she had gotten bored, so he couldn't help but beam when he saw she was still there, chatting with Ethan, the bartender. Ethan was being his normally smarmy self and was in the middle of the joke he always told girls when they were finally drunk enough to laugh, though there was a strange desperation in his eyes. Jack could sense some irritation and wondered why her lack of laughter bothered him so much. It wasn't like his jokes were that funny.

Without a second thought, Jack took a seat next to her and inturrupted the painfully obvious punchline "Aye up, a pint o'ale fer us, mate... and..." He glanced at Beth with a smile "Owt look gran' t'ya, Beth?"

Ethan gave Jack a scathing scowl that would have tipped off most guys to his 'mistake', but it eluded Jack completely. "'ey, Mate, we were 'aving a conver--- wait." Ethan started, a look of sudden understanding washed over his sharp features, followed by one of bemusement "You two know each other?" When Jack just nodded, Ethan glanced between them and then shook his head "Somehow that explains a lot..." He muttered, mostly to himself, before grabbing one of the freshly cleaned mugs and filling it "Ye 'ave fun with that." Jack, missing the reference to Beth, grinned "Thanks, mate."

Ethan successfully detached, Jack turned to Beth "'ope ah dint make ya wait too long... Cheers..." He raised his beer towards her before taking a long, grateful swig. For Jack, there were few things in life as good as a cold beer after a hard days work. Well except, perhaps, a cold beer with a pretty girl after a hard days work. That was definitely better.

Truth be told, Beth didn't really have anything to do tonight but bum around the pub. Her social circle was more or less limited to whoever she happened to be talking to at the time, and her social life was just as stunted -  it seemed to her like there was no place to be but sitting at the bar, candidly explaining to the bartender what was wrong with his corny jokes. She was on her third mojito and was halfway through a chicken and chips basket, which she'd mostly ordered to keep her hands busy while she kept her seat warm. The bloke with the dog said he'd be around and she believed him, though she couldn't have said why she was so sure. He had a sort of earnestness about him, she thought, and he'd been good to a dog that couldn't do a thing for him, which made her think he was likely alright – or, well, not likely to stand her up at a pub that he was already at, anyway. So she'd waited, even once she was thoroughly bored of chatting with the bartender – Ethan, or whatever he was called – and tried to make her drink last.

When Jack finally came around he was met with a grin of pure relief. As soon as his bum touched the seat she took it as her cue to lift the glass to her lips and drain the rest of it, floating mint sprig and all. She chewed a few times, but her face turned into a pucker of disgust and it was about two seconds before she was spitting the slightly chewed leaf back into the glass with the half-melted ice cubes, ejecting it from the crevices in her molars with the tip of her tongue. It was a fantastically attractive greeting, but luckily most of the men's attention seemed to be on one another for the moment, allowing her to evacuate her garnish in peace. When she finally looked up again, her mouth free of green sludge,  she'd effectively missed the whole exchange between the two blokes, but her breath was minty fresh.
“Ya know,” she said to her pal Ethan, “I'll have something with less leaves this time. How's about a cosmo?” she asked, pushing the empty glass away from her and jamming a lukewarm chip in her mouth. There was nothing like minty potatoes on a Tuesday night!

”ope ah dint make ya wait too long... Cheers...”

“Long, but not too long,” she said as her cocktail was handed over, blissfully free of leaves and other detritus. She didn't even get a lime... or a second look from Ethan. “I haven't much else to do, really. Nothing much is ever going on. You know, I think I'm bored. In my life,” she admitted, resting her elbow on the bar top. She was clearly just a little buzzed but, frankly, she'd gotten much more personal just as quickly when talking to complete strangers while sober, so if there was so much as a tenuous connection  between her slight inebriation and her openness it was hard to tell. “I never thought I'd be in a rut or anything until I was at least twenty five. I don't know why twenty five – just seems sort of old, isn't it?” She took another sip of her drink. “I don't mean to complain or nothing. I'm just noticing. I figured you might know what I mean, like, seeing as you work in a pub and that. But maybe not.”

“Long, but not too long, I haven't much else to do, really. Nothing much is ever going on. You know, I think I'm bored. In my life, I never thought I'd be in a rut or anything until I was at least twenty five. I don't know why twenty five – just seems sort of old, isn't it? I don't mean to complain or nothing. I'm just noticing. I figured you might know what I mean, like, seeing as you work in a pub and that. But maybe not.”

Brows furrowed in concentration, Jack just stared and blinked blankly at her as she spoke, nodding a little as he tried to keep up with the deluge of language that she had unleashed upon his unsuspecting village. This continued on for a few seconds after she finished and didn't stop until he realized she was silently staring right at him, eying him expectantly. "Oh... ehm..." He started and then paused, brows furrowed. Did he feel bored? With life? He turned back to his pint, took a sip and then stared at the ceiling as he gave it a moment of thought, before finally saying "... Nah... No' really."

It did occur to him, after a moment, that perhaps he should elaborate on this, so he added "Not tha' me life is gran' n'all, bu' ah've seen enuff t'know tha' sumtimes borin' is normal..." While he said this, he unconsciously reached back and touched the scars curving down the back of his head. It had become a bad habit of his, when nervous or thoughtful, and served as a reminder of what he had been through and where he had come from. It kept him humbled but determined for something better. " 'n it ken feel nice bein' normal 'n all tha, yeah?" He gave her a wistful smile as he said this.

"Why d'ya feel borin', any way?" He asked before looking back down at his beer, adding offhandledly in a softer voice, "Ya seem dead excitin' t'me..."

“I never wanted to be normal,” Beth explained once Jack had expressed that he was content with boring, old life. “Do you ever get the feeling like you want to do something... whatsits...erm, spontaneous or something? Well, that's me, but all the time, like,” she explained with a grin, taking a sip of her flora-free drink. She could already feel herself loosening up, thanks to the drinks she'd downed before Jack had come to join her. Alcohol didn't profoundly change the way Beth behaved, seeing as she was already fairly impulsive and blunt, but it definitely had the effect of making her feel jubilant for no good reason, even as she went on about the marked lack of eventfulness in her life. She wasn't whining – more like observing. “Normal doesn't have to be boring, isn't it? People just accept that it does, and they deserve to be boring, I think. People who live in a jungle or something, running from lions all day? That's normal to them, but it sure as hell isn't boring, I bet. That's what I mean, like. My normal's not good enough – and if yours is, you're lucky, mate.”

”Why d'ya feel borin', any way? Ya seem dead excitin' t'me.”

“You know why?” Beth asked. He clearly didn't, since he'd asked, but Beth took every excuse to hear her own voice. She didn't wait for an answer before she went on, answering her own question. “Because I do the same thing all the damned time, and the same thing gets old, especially when the same thing is just plain dull, you know? I always thought I'd be doing more by now. At school they make it sound like you finish school and then you get to do whatever you want, but they were lying. I know that now.” Beth smirked, looking Jack over. She paused, only briefly, to consider him, then shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You didn't go to Hogwarts, did you?” she asked, a slightly accusatory, but not entirely unkind, note to her voice. “I don't have you in my head anywhere, that's how I can tell,” she said, lifting one arm to tap her temple with an index finger. “Where'd you go, then? I know you're English. It's not up for debate, really. You talk like you've got a mouth full of marbles,” she grinned, snickering softly. She clearly meant no ill will by it, but it may have come off as more malicious than intended. “Or are you a squib or something?”

"My normal's not good enough – and if yours is, you're lucky, mate.”

The moment she said this, Jack's brows shot up and he cocked his head to the side, eyes suddenly looking at everything but her, as he mused rather cryptically "Ehm... Don' know about tha'..."  'Lucky' was not a word he had... no, that anyone had ever used to describe him. Lucky people didn't get turned into werewolves, disowned by their families, inadvertently kill their only real father figure and live rough in the woods for a year just so they didn't tear innocent people's faces off every month. But then, Jack wasn't the type to complain. He was an optimist and preferred to live for the moment, and at this moment, he was sitting in a nice, warm bar and sharing a cold ale with a cute girl who didn't think he was weird or an idiot. At least, he didn't think she did. She hadn't said so as of yet and he got the impression that she said whatever thought came to mind, the moment that it did.

She didn't seem to notice his sudden change and Jack figured it was for the best. He didn't really want to scare her off by telling her his life story. Instead, he let her continue talking as he sipped at his beer and nodded now and then to show he was listening. It actually felt quite comfortable. Jack was a man of few words and Beth seemed to be a woman of a billion, so it balanced out rather well in the end. Until she asked him about himself, that is.

“You didn't go to Hogwarts, did you? I don't have you in my head anywhere, that's how I can tell, Where'd you go, then? I know you're English. It's not up for debate, really. You talk like you've got a mouth full of marbles, Or are you a squib or something?”

That was a lot of questions.

"Ehm..." He said, scratching his scars again, this time out of nervousness. Most of those questions required some long, painful explanations that he wasn't sure he wanted to give quite yet. Maybe if he was lucky, he could distract her. "Na, ah didn' go t'ogwarts. 'omeschooled... in Derby. Tha's the accent yer 'earin'.... sorry..." He was grasping at straws on what to distract her with, so he started blabbering a bit. Not a good position for a guy like Jack, who never grasped the fine art of stealth or subtlty. "'n ah ain't a squib. Not tha' theres owt wrong with squibs. Me best mates a squib. Dead clever, me mate, 'andy in a tight spot... Don' seem to mind me bein' a werewolf at'all..."

The moment it left his mouth, Jack's voice died and he sat there, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide, as his brain tried to figure out what the hell to do now. Then he turned back to his beer and took a huge gulp of it, as though it could wash away the last few words.

When Beth was very small they used to say that she was lucky. After all, she'd lived through something that should have killed her. She'd learned very early on that luck didn't always look the way you wanted it to, and that sometimes being lucky wasn't very lucky at all. What had luck done for her? It had covered her in mottled, hideous scarring, it had impaired her growth, and it had left her with a chip on her shoulder that, at the moment, was doing her much more harm than good. Luck, she'd found, could lead to shame. Even so, if someone came around and offered her a little more luck, she'd accept it greedily. What she wanted even more than luck, however was some excitement. Little did she know that her deluge of questions would lead her right to some.

”Na, ah didn' go t'ogwarts. 'omeschooled... in Derby. Tha's the accent yer 'earin'.... sorry... “

“Don't apologize,” she insisted brusquely, “I never said it was bad. I like it,” she spoke, the grin she'd been grinning still plastered to her face. This was one of those confusing moments in which the gentleman may have assumed that the lady was flirting, when the truth was it was just Beth speaking her mind and grinning like a loon. If someone so much as suggested that she was flirting she would have called them mental and gone on with her life. She wasn't very smooth or very experienced, and she didn't think about romance much. She just talked. And talked. And talked.

”'n ah ain't a squib. Not tha' theres owt wrong with squibs. Me best mates a squib. Dead clever, me mate, 'andy in a tight spot... Don' seem to mind me bein' a werewolf at'all...”

“Ah, you're a werewolf? Is that a fact?” she asked, not bothering to lower her voice any as she expressed surprise, but not distaste, at his remark. It was only a second before that big old teasing grin she'd had on her face a moment earlier was back. Clearly she was taking this news just fine. In fact, she looked a bit excited, which, judging from Jack's face, wasn't the reaction he was expecting. “I bet you know my sister then! Brynn Ellis? She looks something like me, but she's taller, really nice...? She's not a werewolf, but she works at the whatsis... the... for the ministry, you know?” she asked hopefully, her eyes alight. Beth loved her sister, and her sister loved werewolves, so it was difficult to keep from feeling enthusiastic by proxy. “So's that why you were homeschooled, like? I was, too, for a bit, before Hogwarts. It's probably why I can't spell my own name, actually,” she snorted and took another sip of her drink, but just kept right on snickering at her own expense. Clearly she was just a little tipsier than she'd been when she arrived.

“Ah, you're a werewolf? Is that a fact?”

"Ehm... Yeah..." Jack murmured as he peeked warily at her out of the corner of his eye. He had been promptly informed of the renewed prejudice against 'his kind' soon after his return to the wizarding world and fully expected to receive abuse for such a careless revelation. Which is why she caught him completely by surprise when she did the exact opposite. In fact, she seemed almost excited to discover his curse.

“I bet you know my sister then! Brynn Ellis? She looks something like me, but she's taller, really nice...? She's not a werewolf, but she works at the whatsis... the... for the ministry, you know?”

Bewildered, he shook his head and stared in silence as she chattered on unfazed. He didn't know what her sister could do at the Ministry, unless she was a werewolf hunter. He remembered his father offhandedly mentioning the Werewolf Capture Unit once. He seemed to find the concept of hunting weres rather sporting, which had shed a less than favorable light on the group in Jack's mind. Surely Beth wouldn't speak so lovingly of a person like that.

“So's that why you were homeschooled, like? I was, too, for a bit, before Hogwarts. It's probably why I can't spell my own name, actually,”

He almost missed her question and barely managed to come out of his thoughts in enough time to catch it. "Ehm... No. Me dad didn' want me t'go t'ogwarts. Ah'm not good enough with a wand." He shrugged one of his shoulders, seemingly unconcerned with the implications of that statement. He was still thinking about her sister and curiosity finally got the best of him "... so... ehm, wot does ya sister do at the ministry? Werewolf 'unting and the like?" Jack tried to seem cavalier about it, but he was not known for his subtly. It was clear to anyone paying attention that he desperately wanted her to say no.