2009 had not been good to Aberdeen Spencer. And she hadn't thought much could top 2008, when she had, under the influence of the Imperius Curse, been made to murder then-Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Gawain Robards. But no, that was just the start of it. Her son Robin, kidnapped. Her and her husband Luke's memories of the little boy, erased. That had been almost a full year ago, and because the Memory Charm was imperfect, bits and pieces of memory had been floating back over time. But Robin remained out of their reach, despite the best efforts of the Auror Office and the outside efforts of Aberdeen and some select allies.

Yesterday had been their first Christmas without him. It hadn't been very merry.

Today, with Aberdeen's blessing, Luke was visiting his extended family. She had needed some time alone. But she hadn't been able to stay in that empty house for very long. So now it was the tail end of Boxing Day, and here she was, propped up at the bar with a glass in her hand.

Ordinarily, Aberdeen wasn't much of a drinker. In fact, she hadn't touched the stuff in almost a year. But with all that was going on with the Eleor family, with her own family, with the rock solid foundation of her marriage finally starting to show the strain of their situation... It was either a sleeping potion or a firewhiskey.

Except, well, the first firewhiskey hadn't had much of an effect. Neither had the second. (Damn Scottish stomach.) Now she was on the fifth, and had forgotten that she had meant to stop after one. She hadn't forgotten the tune to 'Piano Man' by Billy Joel, however.

'Sing us a song, yer th' piano man
Sing us a song tonight
Well we're all in the mood f'r a melody
And you've gottus feelin' all right'

She was getting louder, and her Aberdonian accent was getting more pronounced, the farther she got along. Any requests to keep it down were summarily ignored, even the really intimidating ones.

'A'right now, e'rybody!'

Tired of singing to herself, Aberdeen stood and turned to face her less-than-appreciative audience, waving her arms like a severely lopsided conductor who happened to be using a tumbler sloshing with amber liquid instead of a baton.

'La-la-la da-di-da-ah
La-la da-di-da da--'

Too enthusiastic in her conducting, Aberdeen had made to step backwards and instead caught her ankle on the leg of her bar stool. This would have presented no obstacle to a sober Aberdeen. In her current state, however, she was promptly downed like a sack of potatoes.

'...Bugger.' At least her glass was intact. If empty.

Another year was quickly coming to an end, and a fresh start for another trip on life's roller coaster was about to begin.  There had been a few things left undone at the office before taking off for the holiday, and Isaac found himself ducking into the Leaky Cauldron for a quick drink and bite to eat.  It would make Monday morning easier, or so he hoped.

Nursing a beer and waiting on an order of fish and chips, his attention was drawn towards bar by the sound of rather loud singing.  He recognized the Muggle song quickly, and it only took a moment more to realize it was being sung by a rather intoxicated coworker from the Muggle Affairs Office.  The only thing he truly knew about Aberdeen Spencer was that she was also a product of Scotland...of course now, based on her performance, he was relatively certain they also shared a love for Muggle music.

He was still debating what to do when she suddenly got caught up in a stool and hit the ground.  It only took a moment for the gentlemanly instincts to kick in and he rose from his table to help her up.  It wasn't lost on him that she appeared to be alone at the bar during the holiday season, which told him there was likely more to the story.  There was part of him that hoped that if she remembered anything once she sobered up it wouldn't make things awkward around the office.

"Are you alright?" he asked offering her a hand to help her up.

Aberdeen looked placidly around for the source of the familiar voice, before remembering that she was, in fact, on the floor, and would need to look up in order to see anyone who had enough sense not to fall over.

'Fraiser! Fraiser Fraiser Fraiser. Hello.' She grabbed the proffered hand and let her colleague help to lever her back into an upright position. Aberdeen wasn't the type to get easily embarrassed, even when sober, so she wasn't at all phased by being caught out of sorts by someone from the office. However, no matter what her alcohol level, she was also fully aware that Isaac Fraiser was a decent bloke who was currently in danger of being too nice for his own good.

'Thankyouverymuch. 'M afraid I'm rather full o' Christmas cheer at th' moment.' She set her glass back down on the counter with a clunk, and actively had to fight the impulse to ask the bartender for another. Now was not a good time to get more drunk. Well. Probably. 'An' by Christmas cheer, I may or may not in fact mean firewhiskey.' As if to offer proof, a small but involuntary cough escaped her. Strong stuff, that firewhiskey.

'Does that count as all right? 'M gonnae count that as all right. I mean, nae bones broken. 'S gotta count for somethin'.' Leaning against the counter for support while simultaneously trying not to look like she was leaning against the counter for support, Aberdeen cocked her head to one side and looked at Fraiser properly. 'And what 'bout you? Finding one of your coworkers doing karaoke wi'out the karaoke machine left any mental scars?'

Firewhiskey always seemed like a good idea while drinking it...however, in Isaac's experience, it usually led to all sort of trouble later on.  He was quite certain Aberdeen would have quite the hangover in the morning, and he didn't envy her that.  At least she seemed to be fighting the desire for more, which after a certain point had always managed to be his downfall when partaking of  Ogden's Old.

'And what 'bout you? Finding one of your coworkers doing karaoke wi'out the karaoke machine left any mental scars?'

He chuckled a bit at her question and he attempt to appear like she had everything under control physically and with a good-natured smile said, "Takes more then singing Billy Joel to shock me."

Ever the nice guy and the gentleman he couldn't help by motion back towards the table where he was sitting and added, "Perhaps you'd care to join me?  Maybe a bite to eat might be in order to help with the Christmas cheer?"

He certainly wasn't about to pressure her to talk to him about whatever had her alone in a bar getting blasted.  He also didn't particularly believe in overstepping boundaries when someone had been drinking in excess.  However, the longer she was on her feet the higher the chance that she might find herself on her bum on the floor once again.

Aberdeen swayed a little and held on to the counter for support. 'Yer being awfully nice to me,' she remarked. It wasn't really a positive or negative statement so much as an observation. 'If I di'n't know better, I'd say you'd had practice dealing with sloshed coworkers.' She looked contemplatively at her barstool for a moment, then the counter she was clinging to, then the floor. Was it just her, or had the stool grown several inches since she'd started drinking? It looked terribly high up now.

'Mush as I hate to admit it,' she sighed, giving Fraiser a weary sort of smile, 'I think I prolly should get some food in me. I di'n't plan to drink much when I came out, so, I've not got much of a...' She waved her hand as if trying to conjure up the right word, but this just resulted in her pitching dangerously forward. Righting herself, she continued, '...sponge. Not mush of a food sponge built up. To absorb the liquor. Does that make sense? I cannae tell if 'm makin' sense right now.'

She blew out a long, Ogden's-laced breath, puffing back the hair that had fallen in front of her face. 'Can I really join you fer a wee bit?' she asked her colleague sheepishly. 'It won't totally ruin your evening?' It wasn't easy for Aberdeen to admit when she was out of her depth, but apparently she was drunk enough to be honest about how capable she was feeling.

'If I di'n't know better, I'd say you'd had practice dealing with sloshed coworkers.'

"One could say that," he offered.  "When you spend months at a time doing research in rather remote parts of the world personal and professional lives tend to overlap a bit...which usually means that on occasion coworkers get sloshed in front of each other."

She started trying to explain about eating when he thought she might just topple forward.  Reaching out on instinct in case he had to suddenly catch her, he placed a steadying hand on her arm until she had righted herself again.  A bite to eat was sounding more and more like a perfect idea and he gave a small nod that he understood the point she was trying to make.  The last thing he wanted was for Aberdeen to leave in her state and end up splinching due to intoxication.

'Can I really join you fer a wee bit?  It won't totally ruin your evening?'

"Not at all," he assured her, motioning towards his table.  "Besides, I enjoy company...especially when the company enjoys Muggle music.  What might you like to eat?"

'Oh, that is a good question,' Aberdeen mumbled, realising that she hadn't given the least bit of thought to what kind of food she wanted to soak up the copious amounts of whiskey in her belly. 'Hum. Something... bready. Yes. With bread. Hey,' she called, turning to the wizard working behind the bar (and once again tightening her grip on the edge of the counter top), 'hey, d'you guys still do sammiches? Like, like a ham an' cheese kinda sammich? With bread?'

Having been assured that yes, they made sandwiches, and yes, they were made with bread, and yes, it would be brought to the table, Aberdeen gave the chap who took her order a giddy kind of smile and slapped the appropriate coinage on the counter. 'Thanks, yer a pal.' Swiveling back to face her colleague again, she added, 'Yer a real pal too, Fraiser. Dinna worry, I'll no fall over again.' She took a step towards the table he had indicated, and immediately stumbled. She caught hold of one of the bar stools to steady herself, and gave Fraiser another sheepish look. 'Okay. So I'll try affie hard not ta fall over again.'

When Aberdeen took a bit more care with where she was going, she fortunately managed to be more steady on her feet. The topic, she decided, needed to steer away from her current propensity for tripping over. 'So, yer a muggle music fan, aye? You like Billy Joel? I do a mean Goodnight Saigon if I do say so m'self.'