It had been a little over two weeks since Bethan Ellis, barmaid to the stars (or at least a few pro quidditch players and politicians), had vanquished a dark creature while on the job – which was probably a good thing, since the job description didn't actually include vanquishing dark creatures, and nobody had offered her a raise. Furthermore, the pub had been corpse-free for going on twelve consecutive work days, which was even better. As much fun as Beth had while playing auror, she did realize that murder was kind of inconvenient when all you were trying to do was pull some pints and mind your own business. Plus, dying was generally considered, erm... bad. Not everything related to the strange attack was negative, however. It had only taken two patrons off the street asking if she was the barmaid from the paper to inflate her ego until it was almost too big to fit inside the pub. She'd been a grinning fool for days, bragging on herself whenever she found an opportunity to do so. The excitement had died down a bit in the subsequent days, however. Maybe some bigger, scarier dark creature had been vanquished by a cuter, bubblier barmaid in some other antiquated burgh and all of the curious people had gone there. Whatever the case, things were as they'd always been at the old 'Broomsticks, and the once celebrated hero was back to the grind, keeping the bustling Friday evening crowd fed and watered.

On Fridays, Beth had come to expect a happy hour crowd, a dinner crowd, and a late evening crowd – there was a little overlap between the three groups, of course, but there did tend to be a slight lull in between when things were just quiet enough to be manageable. Most of the time Bethan appreciated keeping busy. She liked having her hands and her mouth occupied – it kept the work day moving and usually kept her out of trouble. There was something to be said for a little downtime in the midst of chaos, however, and after a non-stop deluge of nine to five employees popping into the pub to greet the weekend, she was glad to have a moment to breathe. She'd poured herself a glass of water and was busy wetting her whistle, her back to the dining room.

When she turned around, after what had only felt like a few seconds of leisurely sipping, there was already a new patron at the bar, and Beth seemed to balk in surprise, grinning at her own obliviousness. She set down her glass and sauntered right over, crossing her arms and leaning forward on the bar. “Hiya,” she greeted the customer, “didn't leave you sitting here too long, did I? It's just sometimes I start thinking and forget to stop, like. Anyway, what are you drinking?” she asked pleasantly, running her mouth, as always. She couldn't shake the feeling that this particular patron looked somehow familiar, but she kept her mouth shut for now – she needed a few more seconds to properly (and tactlessly) inspect her face before she decided if the woman at the bar was really someone she knew or if she was just losing her mind.

Fridays. They weren't quite the break they had been, with the new job that was slowly starting to feel less like the new job and more like just her important, demanding, sleep-draining job.

At least she wasn't dead yet. Which meant she could go out for a few drinks before she went back to her flat, fed the birds, and get paint on every available surface. Or, just get a few drinks. She'd see about the rest of it.

Admete looked up at the barmaid's flurry of words, and shook her head at the the first of them. "Just got here. Haven't been waiting long at all. And I, hmm." A look over the barmaid's shoulder to try to evaluate the stock, then back to her face. Admete hadn't been to the Broomsticks for a while. And she was feeling, well, it didn't count as adventurous in comparison to work, but up for trying something new. "What's good?"

“What's good?” Bethan parroted, still leaning on her forearms, impulsively throwing a quick glance behind her as though she'd forgotten what was there. Her head snapped back around just as quickly, however. She'd looked, but she'd not really seen – if she knew anything in the world, it was what was kept behind the bar at the Three Broomsticks.“Well, I reckon that depends what you like. Everything's good to somebody. I should know. I've likely seen it all by now, isn't it?” she boasted with a smile and a faint snort of amusement. She'd learned more about human anthropology as it related to liquor after six months of tending bar than she could have picked up in a PhD program. There were a dozen names for the same drink, depending on where a person came from, and a drink that one person remembered for giving them a good buzz, another person ordered because they knew it as non-alcoholic. People who seemed pretentious liked simple drinks, people who seemed simple made the best conversationalists, and everybody came to the Broomsticks eventually. She'd write a thesis on it, but she was too busy living it.

“Well, do you want something fruity or do you want something that burns?” she asked, launching into her lazy barmaid spiel. If she really wanted her to, Beth could have listed every drink she could make or pour, but she didn't think anyone really wanted to hear that and, to tell the truth, she didn't feel particularly moved to run through it all. “Something on tap, maybe? We got...all your regular ales, your lager, cider... erm, we've got wine, too, but I've known you five seconds and you don't seem like the type. Let's see... I can make you a hot toddy, a hard butterbeer, hot or cold - but I recommend hot this time of year – and, well, we've got surprisingly good hot chocolate here, if you want to know the truth,” she informed the woman, her tone the slightest bit conspiratorial, as though she was sharing a secret. “People don't know what they're missing out on, and I can hide a shot in there, no problem.” She stood up properly, pushing up from her leaning position, and folded her arms across her chest. “But it's whatever you like, like I said. No accounting for taste and that.”

Admete tugged her jacket off as she listened, a smile creeping onto her face. Oh, what the hell, it was just a drink, not a case or a discussion or a spat with another department. She did sigh a little at the sight of her bare arms, though. Been missing her exercise some with all the new work, and Luthas would be teasing her about it once he picked up on it.

Worse things than that to be teased about, though. "Take the hot chocolate, then. And a shot in it, less an owl from the Ministry shows up to drag me away before you're done. I'll trust you on that choice, so long as it burns." The barmaid seemed solid enough, and Admete had to admit that she had no idea what'd go good in hot chocolate.

She took a moment to glare at the jacket beside her before leaning back on the counter. Could use one night without owls or murders or whatever else someone decided that she needed to handle. Had a busy job, but didn't need to be a soul consuming one. Propped her chin up on one hand as she looked back at the barmaid. "You been here long? Been a while since I stopped by."

“Good choice, though don't mind me staring at you all jealous until it's gone,” she teased, producing a pleasant chuckle as she skipped back toward the kitchen to have them whip up the hot chocolate itself. She was back in a flash, however, emerging from the door to the kitchen with the dying embers of a belly laugh on her lips. Clearly, her affection for the pub's cocoa wasn't a secret, and even putting in an order for a cup had come with a round of teasing. Her easy smile was still on her face as she returned to face the patron. “So that'll be up any moment now, I expect. They're quick back there. Even if they took all year I reckon it'd still be worth it – and if it's not, I'll drink it myself,” she promised, no doubt silently wishing for such an outcome. If she were making it for herself she probably would have put something milder in it, but the lady had asked for a burn, and Beth planned to deliver. She'd still drink it if she had to, though.

”You been here long? Been a while since I stopped by.” 

“Ages,” Bethan lied, biting the flesh on the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling and betraying her fib. It was fairly obvious that she was on the verge of giving herself away, however, so she gave up on the charade fairly quickly, snorting. “Nah, only joking. I've been here nearly six months now, since around the beginning of August,” she explained. “Still a bit long to go without a drink, though. Bad week?” she asked, leaving the question open. It was a good sort of question for a stranger, seeing as it could be answered with a shake of the head or an hour long sob story, depending on who they were. It was yet another tool Beth used in her unintentional study of pub anthropology.

“Though I just gotta ask,” Beth went on, “If you haven't been around in months, then why do you look so familiar?” She studied the woman's face again, not making any attempt to hide her blatant staring. “You work for the ministry, you said? Not over in the whatsit, erm... Werewolf department, are you?” she asked, her forehead creasing. It was the only possibility that came to mind that even remotely made sense. “That's where my sister's at. Level four. It's the only thing I can think of.” 

Admete's eyes wandered towards the door to the kitchen, then back to the barmaid once she'd returned."You'd better go order one for yourself then, I'll cover it. Always better to have whoever's behind the bar happy, least in my opinion." No use spiting someone serving you drinks. Least, if you didn't want them tasting like piss.

"This week's been alright. Had some rough ones not long back, but mostly just busy. Level Two though, never worked for Four."  A shrug and she leaned in a bit more, almost enough to rest her head on the counter. "Not sure where you saw me, though. Read the Prophet at all?" Couldn't remember if there'd been a picture in the article about her new job. But she just wanted a drink, no matter what her office door said on it.

"There was an article there not long back. Can't remember what it said, hope it wasn't too harsh." Her eyes darted back to that door again. "Guess I've got plenty of drinks to make up for."

Bethan grinned, producing a single 'Ha!” of amusement at the witch's offer to buy her a cup of cocoa. “You know,” she started, “when they say 'and one for yourself,' they don't usually mean hot chocolate, like, but who am I to refuse?” It didn't take much to convince Beth to like you, but she had already developed a fondness for this particular patron. There were a lot of great regulars, and even a few pleasant tourists who came through the village looking for a bite, but for every decent human who sat down at the bar there was always someone who seemed to take pleasure in making her life miserable. If she had to choose between this sort of interaction and being accused of using shrinking charms on the glasses by belligerent cheapskates, she'd take this every time.

“Level two, huh?” Beth asked when the woman divulged where she worked. “Is that a fact?” Though uncharacteristic, the barmaid took a moment to pause. There was a snarky remark on the very tip of her tongue – something about how it was thanks to level two that she was lining up the shots tonight – but the lady had already proven to her that she was decent which, ultimately, pushed her to keep her mouth shut. It took a whole lot of self restraint to keep her ire tucked behind a sardonic smirk, but she managed. It only took a few seconds for her knee-jerk feeling of resentment to circle back around to curiosity. It always did eventually.

”There was an article there not long back. Can't remember what it said, hope it wasn't too harsh.”

“Seems like anyone can make the paper these days,” she spoke, her smirk going soft, “Even I was in there not a few weeks back. That's my life's achievement, you know,” she admitted, proud as punch. Before she could go on a tangent  about how wonderful and heroic she'd been, however, a bloke had come out from the kitchen and set the mug behind the bar. “I reckon that's for you,” she remarked, thoroughly distracted by the diversion. Collecting the mug, she set about preparing the drink, measuring out a shot of decent brandy, which she thought would provide enough of a burn to satisfy without compromising the integrity of the drink itself. It was a subtle science, tending bar – and if she'd had half as much luck mixing up potions, she wouldn't be tending bar at all. After adding a touch of cinnamon she delivered the steaming drink to its intended recipient, looking pleased with herself. “Let me know if it's strong enough for you, but don't burn yourself. I reckon that would ruin it.” 

"Mmm, been at Two pretty much forever, or at least that's what it feels like." Admete shrugged. Her work wasn't boring,  per se, but between meetings, headaches, and nasty public incidents, it wasn't feeling too fun either. "And hot chocolate's tasty. Not like I'm drinking with anyone who'd needle me about it."

She was just about to quip back regarding the Prophet when her drink showed up, and decided to try that instead. And it was good. Warm, sweet but not too sweet, the flavor not overwhelmed by the brandy. "Mmm. That's good. Could see a reporter or two putting you in the Prophet just for that." She crossed her legs and leaned back, looking up at the barmaid. "So, what'd you do to get in there? Mine was just work." A bit of a curious smile.

"And I'm not drunk enough to bore you bout work. Going to need a few more for that." She winked, then took a swig of the hot chocolate. Might have been a little warm for that.

Bethan was pleased with the woman's assessment of the drink, and prepared to take full credit for having suggested it in the first place. She watched as the other witch sung its praises, a self satisfied smile on her face all the while. “See that? You asked the right person what was good. I'm no genius, but I can talk drinks, and I can definitely talk food,” the barmaid boasted as she set the cinnamon shaker back where it belonged. On days when there was lentil soup, Beth pushed that stuff so hard that, by the end of the day, she sold often sold more soup than drinks. Her tastes were far from epicurean, but she wore her passion on her sleeve, and that tended to appeal to people.

”So, what'd you do to get in there? Mine was just work.”

“It was work for me, too, in a way,” she began, “Or, well, I was at work, anyway, isn't it? Someone set loose this dark creature in the pub, right, and, you know, I'm not only good at suggesting drinks, so I took care of it,” she explained casually, as if it hadn't been the most thrilling thing to happen to her in months. “One casualty, but the bloke was older than Merlin, and they said it's likely he died before the thing ever got out. I'm just glad it was me who was working that day, like. Don't know what might've happened if it was one of the other girls,” she went on, following the script that the humble heroine was supposed to follow. It was rare that Bethan had a real opportunity to brag on herself lately. At school there had been dueling matches to win, exams to unexpectedly ace, situations to weasel oneself out of – but when you worked at a pub there really wasn't much to feel proud of. What was she supposed to boast about? How many glasses she'd cleaned in a night? So, maybe she was milking the situation a bit... but could you blame her?

”And I'm not drunk enough to bore you bout work. Going to need a few more for that.”

“Whose to say I'll find it boring?” she asked cheekily. She was already beyond curious. If she had to get this lady plastered to find out, though, well... that could certainly be arranged! “Can't be boring if you're up on level two. I've been trying to get up there myself, to tell the truth,” Beth admitted, unable to keep that little fact to herself knowing full well that she had a captive audience who could speak to the goings on in the department with authority.

"Everyone needs food. And drinks. Think I'll stick with the drinks for tonight." Admete leaned forward, resting one arm on the counter and nodding a bit at the story as it was told. Always good to humor the barmaid, which was easy enough when the story was one she wanted to hear.

Good not to be the one telling tales of foul creatures and dark wizards, for once. "Think I heard a little bout that. Bailey showed up afterwards for it, if I'm remembering right." Aaah, Bailey, whom she wouldn't be working with much any more with the new job and all that. "Think I'll have to find that Prophet article on it sometime. Need to read that paper more." Or else face the prospect of missing something important that'd get the Minister or such justifiably chastising her. "Bet you tell it better than they do. Was the old bloke a regular?"

“Can't be boring if you're up on level two. I've been trying to get up there myself, to tell the truth,”

Huh. Admete's gaze turned a little piercing at that, considering the girl-young woman-in front of her. Basic hiring wasn't really her job, with all the supervisory duties she had now. "I've had a few bar fights in my time, but none like that." Another swig of her drink, and the cup made a thunk noise as she set it down. "What job you looking at there?"

“Yeah, he was a regular alright,” Beth responded, not even having to think about it – she knew this story as well as she knew the old family stories her parents liked to tell about when she was small, which were repeated over and over until guests and relatives could repeat them word for word as they were being told. This one was nearly ready to be added to the cannon of Bethan stories. “Every Wednesday, like clockwork. He liked to sit there,” she explained, pointing to an occupied stool a short distance down the bar. The patchy wizard who was sitting there bristled self consciously and turned his head to look behind him, clueless as to why she was gesturing at him. She didn't even spare the fellow a glance. “That's why it's suspicious. I realized that later, like. Someone's in the same place all the time, it's easier to come and take care of them, right? And I guess that just made me realize I'd be easy to take out if someone was looking to get me good, since I'm here all of the time, isn't it?” While that may have been a scary thought for some people, Beth seemed excited by the prospect – though it didn't hurt that she didn't currently have any enemies who'd want her dead. “I reckon I could take care of myself,” she announced, only sounding a little bit cocky.

”What job you looking at there?”

“Well, I want to be an auror,” she said breezily, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. In her own mind it was the most obvious thing in the world. Why wouldn't you want to be one of the UK's best and brightest, fighting off darkness and enforcing the law? She knew there were other jobs, but she couldn't see why anybody would want one of those. She'd talked to people before – at the pub, mostly – who said they couldn't imagine doing that in a million years, that they were happy in their position at the owl post office or the Department of Boring Paperwork – and to those people she just said 'suit yourself.' The fewer people who applied to the department, the more likely they'd be to take her on as a trainee... right?

“I'm resitting the NEWTs as soon as they're given, and I really think I've got a shot at getting my marks up,” she explained optimistically, though she really had no reason to be so certain. “I'll be on the right track soon. I got my cauldron repaired and everything, just the other week! Just wish potions wasn't just a pain in my arse,” she grumbled with a saucy smile. At this point, after a month without so much as glancing toward anything potions related, it would be a miracle if she scored half of what she did the last time she'd taken the exam. Maybe, if she was lucky, she'd get points for enthusiasm.

Admete listened intently to the story, nodding to the comments about schedules and habit. Such could make one vulnerable, true, but it had other merits. She even managed not to smirk at the barmaid's cocky assertions, something helped by sips of hot chocolate and the mug masking her expressions. Wasn't her place to bruise egos here, and it wasn't a job she cared for even with people who got on her nerves.

Leave that for someone else, if it needed to happen. "Good luck with the tests! Still remember stressing over my NEWTs. Long time ago, that." Just the sort of thing to make her feel old, as if the new job wasn't solid enough on that account.

"What made you decide on Auror, if you don't mind my asking?" Admete propped her elbows up on the counter and rested her chin on her hands. "It's good work, but no shortage of that in MLE." Didn't need a red uniform to handle criminals or get in spats with Three, after all.

“I'm not so stressed,” Bethan insisted, referring to the NEWTs, which seemed way too far away to get worked up over. “They're just exams. You can only do as well as you can do – which is why I hate them, to tell the truth. Say I'm having a bad day, like. So now I have to spend the next year of my life at the pub, because – because why? Because I botched my antidote or something? A year's no joke!” she exclaimed quite passionately, looking a fair bit miffed over what she felt was an injustice. She shook her head a few times, her lips pursed into a disgruntled pucker. “That's why we've got people who can vanquish a dark creature like it's nothing working behind counters. I'm just not any kind of exam person is all.” Taking the exams over one additional time didn't seem too terrible, but if she came up short a second time then, well... she didn't know what she'd do. It wasn't anything she was willing to think about. She wasn't fond of admitting defeat.

”What made you decide on Auror, if you don't mind my asking? It's good work, but no shortage of that in MLE.”

“Well, Aurors are the best, isn't it?” she asked, as earnest as anything, “The best.  I never wanted to be a secretary or nothing. I'm quick with a wand, and I'm not afraid of people the way some people are, you know? And it's dangerous work, right? If someone wants to do that work, and they really want to do it well, you should let them. And I want to.” She nodded a few times for emphasis. “I don't know about any other jobs up there. There can't be anything as good.” That last statement hung in the air almost like a question, an implied 'could there?' tacked on the end. She sucked on her teeth for a moment, looking thoughtful, though she wasn't really thinking anything. “What'd you say you do again?”

Barmaid wasn't any sort of humble type either. Not that Aurors were immune to egos, but this sort of it seemed likely to get someone killed. No one owed you that badge. So she took a long drink before saying anything, gave her time to think. "Think they want the test to see how you handle stress. But was never something I ran, so couldn't say for sure."

She sort of shrugged. "Aurors are the best at some things, sure. But I've got a Hitwizard watching my back now, wouldn't trade anyone for him." Didn't hurt that he was a hotwizard, but she'd never go off admitting that. Luthas'd never let her hear the end of it. Well, he'd never let her hear the end of anything that was good for teasing. That's what families were for.

"And I was an Auror. Up until oh, month back?" Seemed lot longer than that half the time. "Running the whole level now, still getting used to that." Her expression remained pretty nonchalant for such a promotion. Maybe the shock just hadn't worn off yet.

Stress? Bethan balked, her eyebrows jumping skyward as she tried to process just what she might have meant by that. “Huh. NEWTs are supposed to measure that?” she asked, propelling her face forward as her eyebrows dropped right back into place, looking unabashedly skeptical. “I'll tell you what's stressful – waiting on the results, like,” she laughed, her face lighting right back up. “Might be fun if you know you've done well and all, but for me, opening that envelope was like russian roulette or something, you know? And guess who got it right in the face? I'll give you a hint – it's me,” she admitted, shaking her head a bit sadly, a tiny smile still clinging to her lips. It wasn't worth getting worked up over it now. “I'm just not that kind of smart,” she sighed. When she said she was the best, she didn't mean she felt so highly of herself that she thought herself above others – it meant she aspired to be the best, and learn from the best, and start at the top, doing the things that were important to her. She could be cocky, but she knew she wasn't any kind of a scholar, which meant she was less dumb than the dumb people who thought they were brilliant. At least she was slightly self aware.

It definitely piqued Bethan's interest when her interesting patron mentioned that she required a hitwizard watching out for her. What did that mean, that she had a bodyguard? She was so important that someone was getting a salary to make sure she didn't get attacked while earning hers? The barmaid was about ready to burst from curiosity. Luckily, Admete seemed to be fairly forthcoming with the information, so Beth wouldn't have to go as far as to explode.

”And I was an Auror. Up until oh, month back?”

“That's the truth?” Beth asked, suddenly even more interested in this mysterious patron, if that were even possible. She leaned on the bar, resting her weight on her folded arms as she pitched forward eagerly, her face brightening with the presence of a big and enthusiastic grin. She was sort of hoping she'd get to hear some thrilling tale about how she'd been terminated after doing something awesome and bad ass and great. She definitely wasn't expecting what came next.

”Running the whole level now, still getting used to that.”

It was enough to wipe that goofy grin right off of her face. It was quickly replaced with a look of mild astonishment. She blinked. “So you're the boss?” Bethan asked, as if to confirm, her eyes narrowing. “You're in charge of all the aurors, and everybody?” Beth's eyes widened again, but she seemed unsure whether or not this was great news or terrible news. She floundered for a moment, but ultimately her grin returned. That information was just too cool to justify reacting any other way. She released an enlightened “Ha!” as she stood up straight again, resting her hands on the lip of the bar. “Is it the best? What do you get to do? Its got to be great, right?” she asked, digging for whatever gold she could get. Other people's stories were her window to the world outside of the Broomsticks – she ate them up.