What a week! Johann contemplated it all with a pint of beer and an elbow on the bar at the Leaky Cauldron, his coat folded over one of the stools in front of him, and eyes watching a game of darts. The chalkboard was adding up automatically, the chalk writing up each score for the wizards playing.

Yesterday he's helped one of his legal colleagues at the Ministry get to the bottom of an altercation in Knockturn Alley between a local and a wizard architect from the Netherlands, and on Monday he'd finally caught up with Rosier in his new job up in the Minister's domain, just two highlights to an ever busy week in International Magical Co-operation.

This time next week he'd be a whole year older. What a thought.

The wizards playing darts were winding each other up. and a tipsy friend watching was waving his wand from behind. Suddenly a dart whipped round from the direction it was thrown in and shot straight behind the bar smashing a couple of glasses and making everyone turn as it exploded into a puff of red smoke which hung in the air sparking for a moment as glass tinkled to the bar below.

"Close!" Johann shook his head, amused as the chalk began to scribe rude words instead on the board. His remark was more to those nearby who had ducked as the dart had flown just over their heads.

In his surprise of the glass shattering and the dart's interruption, he'd accidentally elbowed the person stood behind him, and turned to apologise.

"Sorry, didn't mean to elbow you there, too busy watching the interpretation of darts from those fellows," Johann explained, taking a proper look at the figure he was addressing.

Roger had been at a small muggle restaurant a hundred yards down the street eager to get his rare night off started. The national leagues were beginning to wind down while World Cup chatter grew ever louder with each passing day. During this odd time in the season Roger found himself without a game tonight or tomorrow, as well as free from practice. After finishing and paying for his meal he stepped outside and walked the familiar path toward the Leaky Cauldron without hurry.

Stepping up to door, Roger walked inside, not worried about the muggles who eyes slid from the two brightly lit shops on either side. The Leaky bustled with life beyond the door, dim light pouring warmth from the old candles lining the wall. He'd always loved it here, letting his pale blue eyes slide over the moving sepia photographs and smiled at the nostalgic charm.

A group of men huddled around the darts corner caught Roger's attention as they drunkenly goaded each other on, while some patrons watched and others went about their business. Walking up to the bar he nodded to the familiar face behind the counter and gave a smile. "The usual, then." He said, turning his attention once more to the game. Having turned only a fraction of an inch, Roger only had time to glance a dart as it sped behind the counter and collided with several glasses in a spectacular display of shattered glass and red smoke. The sudden sound surprised him, but not as much as the elbow to his side. With a slight wince, he turned his attention to the man next to him. Obviously this was the source of the accidental flying elbow, as the man was apologizing.

"Its quite fine, really." Roger waved it off, giving a smile. "You've got a good elbow on you, though."

"Sorry!" Roxanne shouted across the pub. "Levitation Charm gone wrong!" She grabbed the very rude piece of chalk and the group of guys around her went back to their drinks, holding their darts or whatever they felt like throwing at the dart board. Roxie walked over to the bar and pulled out a few galleons. "Sorry, I hope this will cover it." She turned towards the gentlemen at the bar, recognizing Storm from work and the other gent looked vaguely familiar.

Rox hopped up on a bar stool. "Hey Stormcloud, what's shakin'?" She joked, smiling as she spun around on her stool. "Sorry 'bout that, would a drink on me cover it? For you and your friend?" Roxanne looked at the other guy sitting next to Johann. She hadn't had anything to drink yet, and wasn't planning on it, but plans change. As she looked closer at the guy sitting next to Stormy, she realized who he was. "Oh my gosh, you're Roger Davies! Or are you a Davies look-alike and you're going to tell me 'yeah, I get that a lot'?"

It wasn't that Roxie was a quidditch freak, but she did love a good Pride of Portree game once in a while, next to the Harpies of course. "You didn't tell me you had a famous amigo Johann!" She tapped Storm on the shoulder playfully, then, she reached across him, holding out her hand. "Hi, I'm Roxanne Gunter"

A few disgruntled mutterings sounded from the group of men sounded as the chalk was snatched up half-way through writing the rude word but died down quickly enough as one of the men threw a dart at the cork board once more. By that point the pretty red-haired girl had made her self rather comfortable on the stool between Roger and Johann. Her offer to pay for their drinks took him aback slightly; he was used to  buying the drinks, simply for the sheer fact he felt life was too short to drink cheap alcohol without good company. Upon her query, Roger smirked coyishly.

"Ah, I'm just a decoy." Roger responded as sincerely as possible, mentally begging the corners of his lips and eyes to not twitch and give away the joke. Taking her hand with a friendly shake, the coyish grin turned into a warm smile. "I'm... erm, not Roger Davies." A defeated sort of sigh came out as he let go of Roxanne's hand. "Well, I guess I make a terrible decoy."

"Have I?" Johann replied quizzically to the other man, "Oh, right, sorry about that."

"Hey Stormcloud, what's shakin?"

"Gunter!" Johann greeted brightly.

"Sorry 'bout that, would a drink on me cover it? For you and your friend?"

"Well, I er-." He didn't get past a few words before the talkative flame-haired witch ploughed on with excitement.

"Oh my gosh, you're Roger Davies! Or are your a Davies look-alike and you're going to tell me 'yeah, I get that a lot'?"

Johann raised his eyebrows, looking from the man he'd elbowed accidentally to the Ministry's welcome witch and back again. Who was Roger Davies and why was he so important?

"You didn't tell me you had a famous amigo Johann!" Gunter tapped him affectionately,
"Hi, I'm Roxanne Gunter."

No, it was coming to him - Witch Weekly and their columns on rather good looking quidditch players - that and the build, yes, that would most probably be it.

Merlin, had he accidentally elbowed some important quidditch player and become a third wheel in Gunter's flirtations?!

"Ah, I'm just a decoy…" The stranger began but relented as he shook Gunter's hand, revealing he was.

"So glad I could introduce you." Johann replied beside them, a little sarcastically, but meaning well.
"Johann Storm, by the way, purveyor of sharp elbows. I'd take her up on a free drink, Roxanne's very persuasive, you don't want her to demonstrate." He raised his own beer.
"Oh, and if you're being so kind, I'll have another lined up." He grinned at her.

"We both work at the Ministry, I'm guessing you're more handy with a broom by the way Roxanne gushed a moment ago, and that I don't recognise you. Then again, she knows everyone, nothing gets past eagle-eyed Gunter."

Johann patted Roxanne's shoulder with an arm round her for a moment and a wink before dropping it back again and leaving her be. He didn't want to cramp her flirting after all - he'd agree that Davies was rather easy on the eye indeed…

"Well, I guess I make a terrible decoy."

"I'll admit you're very good at being you Mr. Davies." Roxie smiled.

"I'd take her up on a free drink, Roxanne's very persuasive, you don't want her to demonstrate."

"You really don't want me to." Rox put a galleon and change on the counter, "Whatever the gents want, get it to 'em quick." She spun back around on her stool to Storm. "I don't know everyone, just everyone who's important, even though I do tend to gush." Roxanne laughed, grinning back at Johann.

"So, what brings these fine, strapping men to the lovely pub of Leaky Cauldrons? Getting a bit of fun in before the weekend sets in?" She knew that tomorrow, she had to edit her story like crazy, groom her cat, and deal with her roommates, which was no small task.

The subtle hint of sarcasm in Johann's voice caught Roger's attention, nodding his head in acknowledgement to the raised beer.

"Well cheers for that, Johann, I doubt I would have ever noticed her had you not introduced me." He replied with a grin and subtle sarcasm tinting his words. Roger instantly respected those who could properly dish and receive sarcasm. His grin turned into a smile, he raised his hands in mock defeat and nodded. "Alright, I'll only agree if I buy the next; fair is fair, right?"

Roger turned to the bar and ordered a pint of a stout, feeling it would suit the heavy and damp weather outside. The bartender pulled a pint, sliding it down the scrubby plank of a bar to Roger he brushed the pint glass with the tips of his fingers and brought it to a controlled stop in one swift movement, barely moving his hand.

"Cheers!" He said, raising his glass a bit and taking a thoughtful swig before giving another nod to Johann's comment. "I have my good days on a broom, yeah. Really, I just ride around really fast chasing a ball, nothing much of note." He truly meant it, too. Taking another sip, he quickly moved past his statement and studied the two of them. "You both work for the Ministry? Fantastic! What do you do?" Roger found the office, and non-office, goings on far more interesting. His pale blue eyes swept over Roxanne and then Johann in an attempt to figure out their professions before they could speak; he liked to speculate.

"So what brings these fine, strapping men to the lovely pub of Leaky Cauldrons…?"

Johann's eyebrows shot up. H'e never been described as 'strapping' before, but he wasn't against the description. He and Roxie were friends and colleagues.

"Celebrating the end of the week." Johann explained to her, and nodded at Davies admitting his quidditch profession.
"… Really I just ride around really fast chasing a ball…"

"… You both work for the Ministry?"

"Yes, we just ride around really fast chasing balls too, you know?" Johann smiled, looking past Roxie to Roger, nursing the beer in one hand.

"I work with languages in Magical Co-operation, Roxie is my right hand woman when I've a foreign dignitary coming. Wouldn't manage without her." He grinned genuinely in his boyish way. Davies had rather lovely eyes...
"I won't spoil your guessing game."

"Celebrating the end of the week."

"Good reason, the Cauldron is a good place for a calm evening of drinking merriment." Roxanne grabbed a toothpick from a shot glass full of them on the bar and began to play around with it.

"… You both work for the Ministry?"

"I work as the Welcome Witch, greeting oblivious guests to their places full time since 2009!" Roxie spun around on her barstool once, before planting her hands flat on the wooden counter. She ordered a small glass of firewhiskey, suddenly craving the hot burn on the back of her throat that would come with the drinking of it.


"... Roxie is my right hand woman when I've a foreign dignitary coming. Wouldn't manage without her."

"That's right you wouldn't Storm, the Ministry would be in ruins if it weren't for the great Roxanne Gunter." Rox laughed, talking a small, dainty sip from her glass. "It's mostly chatting away with whoever walks by at the moment, it's fun, I like it, I get paid to talk to people, so, it works, I bet your job is probably more exciting than a glorified secretary?"

"So, what brings these fine, strapping men to the lovely pub of Leaky Cauldrons? Getting a bit of fun in before the weekend sets in?"

A rueful grin played on Roger’s face as he turned his attention to Roxanne.

“I had an evening and morning free and didn't want to spend it inside. I figured the Leaky would be my best shot, and what do you know, I was right.” Raising his glass a few inches in appreciation toward the two, Roger took yet another drink. Merlin did he ever need this pint; practice had been outright murder today. However, with an entire Saturday off, Roger decided to not dwell on practice, matches, or anything of the sort. No. Tonight he would have fun. At the moment, fun would include picking up a toothpick from the shotglass and twirling it between his fingers, subconsciously matching Roxanne's body language. After all, tonight was about fun, and fun usually involved flirting with pretty girls.

"I work as the Welcome Witch, greeting oblivious guests to their places full time since 2009!"

"Really? I'm surprised I've never seen you at the Welcome Desk; your hair is rather hard to miss." Daring to reach out and flick at a lock of her red hair, Roger instead mentally took in the fiery hue and kept his drink-free hand busy with the toothpick.

"I work with languages in Magical Co-operation, Roxie is my right hand woman when I've a foreign dignitary coming. Wouldn't manage without her."

Blue eyes widening with surprise, Roger suddenly found Johann infinitely more interesting than his pretty red-haired friend.

“Languages?” He breathed, a mixture of awe and longing in his voice. “Fantastic! I always wished I had a knack for languages. My mum is fluent in Gaelic, I can kind of understand to an extent, but otherwise I am afraid my language skills are limited to English and very bad French." He carefully left out Swedish, despite his poor execution of the language. Putting down his drink, Roger leaned against the bar, studying Johann intently.  "What all do you speak?"

"I bet your job is probably more exciting than a glorified secretary?"

With a flounce of his shoulders, Roger casually tossed aside the question; he never really understood the obsession with Quidditch and the player's lives. "Well, I am pretty sure we both wake up at the same time! However, you don't have to work outside in all weather! But, yeah, it is pretty exciting. I'm always asked how can I think when there is so much noise from the stands but to be honest you don't really hear it. Maybe I've just gotten used to it, or I'm trying to not get my head taken off!"

Long weeks seemed to be the norm now that she was working in London.  Raizel had finally managed to escape from Gringotts long after her workday should have ended; she'd fled from the marble institution with all the fervor of one escaping from a lion's den, spared from her daily all-consuming agony of errands and paperwork for another weekend.

The Leaky Cauldron was already raucus by the time she made her way through.  Judging by the size of the crowd, she wasn't the only one grateful for the end of the week.  A group of wizards were arguing nearby a dart board, and most of the tables were packed, full of pairs and small groups laughing and chatting in anticipation of a few days off.

Normally, she breezed through the magical pub on her way back to Muggle London.  It was a little early for going out, after all, and given a choice she liked to put as much space between herself and the goblins as she possibly could.  But something tonight -- the noise, the atmosphere, the thrill of knowledge that soon she'd be off on another adventure[1] -- made her pause and consider her options.  Breaking stride, she adjusted her course and made a beeline for the bar.

A group was already present there, seemingly deep in conversation.  Raizel vaguely recognized the younger witch; that bright red hair was unmistakeable, and the Cursebreaker had gone breezing by her in the Atrium once or twice during her recent visits to the Ministry. 

"...or I'm trying not to get my head taken off!"

"There are spells for that," Raizel put in helpfully, not really caring that she was interrupting their conversation.  That was the way of it, after all -- it was the weekend, and she was Not In The Office, which meant it was a good day.  She flashed the group a vague smile as she leaned her elbows on the bar, reading over the menu.  The fact that she somewhat recognized the red-haired girl made them practically friends already, at least as far as drinking was concerned, and even if she didn't know her name, she intended to treat her as such.

"What is good here?" she asked the girl, giving her a quizzical look.  "Not Firewhiskey," she added firmly.  That burned nearly as much as the liquors that Cameron Rosier usually drank, and Raizel had no intention of kicking off her weekend in anything resembling that state.  "Something else."

1.	Post this thread.

The bar was thronging, and Roxanne's laughter tickled along the top of the hubbub beside him, and amongst it he nodded to Davies describing his own interest in languages.

"… I bet your job is probably more exciting than a glorified secretary?"

"You're not a glorified secretary." Johann assured her and shook his head, but the conversation moved on, and he backed away ever so slightly to loosen his collar. Davies entertained her flirting by explaining his flying career.

Before there was much chance to reply, a blonde appeared to join them, asking Roxanne was was good to drink.

"Depends what you prefer - grape, grain or something else?"

There would be time to reply to Davies in a moment, but for now, the two women had come between them, and it was becoming crowded at the bar.

"You're not a glorified secretary."

"Thanks Storm" Roxie smiled with a nod

"What is good here?"..."Not Firewhiskey," ... "Something else."

Roxanne turned to the blonde that had interrupted her flirting session with Roger. "They don't go much in the way of cocktails, but if you want beer, wine, or liquor, here's the place to get it." Rox tilted her head back a bit to take a large swig from her glass; she remembered why they call it fire whiskey. Roxanne coughed a bit into her arm.

She turned back to the blonde, trying to figure out where she had seen the woman before. Then, it clicked. Roxie snapped her fingers. "You work at Gringotts, don't you? I knew I'd seen your face before!"

Studying Johann with interest a few moments longer, Roger turned his gaze to the pretty blond and her bold interruption, letting out an amused laugh. Then after a few seconds of musing while observing the rapidly filling pub, he shot her a glimmering glance.

"Where is the fun in that? No one would pay us any mind if there wasn't a thrill of injury to be had."

"What is good here?"..."Not Firewhiskey," ... "Something else."

Roger was just about to recommend the fantastic new dark stout on tap when Roxanne interrupted, followed by an impressive deep swig of her drink. He grinned at her slight cough. "You really do live up to your hair color, hm?" Eyeing the flaming red-locks for a fraction longer than a moment, Roger his attention back to Raizel. "Well, like she said, beer, ales and stronger liquors are your friends, here. I'm not so sure about cocktails if sugary alcohol is your flavor." Despite his love of sweet things, Roger had never really warmed up to a proper girly cocktail, half out of pride and half out of worry for his health. Then again, this worry came from someone who smoked cigarettes. "I'm buying second round, so keep it in mind."

Upon Roxanne's revelation of the woman's identity, Roger studied her a bit more. Yes, now that she mentioned it the blond's face did see a bit familiar.

There was a part of Raizel that wanted nothing more than to order the biggest, girliest mixed drink that she possibly could, complete with curly straws and tropical umbrellas and tiny but heartfelt firecrackers that exploded over the bobbing ice, and perhaps little enchanted plastic gnomes that performed synchronized pirouettes as they swam though the preferably brightly-colored liquid.  Unfortunately, it seemed as if that would not be an option tonight.  With a sigh, she regarded the menu again, and then signaled to the bartender to deliver a wheaty beer.

"There are spells for that, too," she informed the Irish-sounding man with a quick, challenging grin.  "Although the thrill should be enough even without anyone paying attention, I think.  And yeh."  She pulled a face at the red-haired girl's assessment, the expression communicating beyond words how she felt about her profession.  "I do.  Although that is not enough thrill," she added crisply, boosting herself to sit on a bar stool.  "That is why I stop working there after five on Fridays."

The bartender was quick.  He was already letting the weiss drain into a pint glass, and he slid it down the bar to her in a smooth, practiced motion.  Raizel accepted it with a quick smile, cupping her hands around the cool glass.  Even if there were no cocktails and no arak, this was still not a bad way to begin a weekend.

"So.  What brings you all here to drink grape, grain, or something else?"  She flashed another daring grin, this one at the tall, lean man with the curly hair that she'd given a go at imitating.  There was an odd note to his vowels -- perhaps not quite British, but what else it might be, she couldn't place.  Foreigners were certainly not rare in the United Kingdom's magical scene, but they were uncommon enough that she still felt a thrill when she encountered one.  "What are we celebrating, besides the end of the week?"