The rain was beating a steady rhythm on the cobblestones outside, and the foul weather seemed to have driven everyone off the streets.  Raizel had fled from Gringotts nearly as soon as the bank's clock had struck five, but the thought of having to trudge out of Diagon Alley by foot when she was certain to get drenched by near-freezing sleet was not what she would ever consider appealing.

Fortunately, her favorite coffee shop was still open, and it was far closer than hurrying all the way to the Leaky Cauldron.  With any luck, she could duck inside there for a short while and enjoy a cup of coffee while she waited for the rain to pass.  After all, London's weather was mutable as often as it was miserable; for all she knew, it might only take twenty minutes before the skies would clear up once more and she could head home without fear of having to use an Impervius charm through the Muggle streets.

At this time of day during the week, Alohomocha was usually starting to wind down; but whether it was due to the weather, or because the coffee shop's popularity was quickly growing, today the trendy cafe was packed.  It took nearly ten minutes for Raizel to fight her way to the counter and then get her order.  Once she finally turned with a cappuccino in hand, she let out a dismayed sigh; from the look of it, every single table inside the coffee shop was already occupied.

Oh well; it was no matter.  If she couldn't have an entire table to herself, then at least Raizel could find a chair.

It took a moment for her to locate one, but finally she spotted a wizard who was sitting by himself, seemingly reading over a thick stack of papers.  Without waiting, Raizel immediately headed over, both of her hands wrapped tightly around the warm ceramic mug that held her drink.

"Good evening," she said, flashing the wizard a friendly grin.  Freeing one hand from her drink, Raizel put it firmly on the empty chair opposite him, as if she had already been given permission to take possession of it.  "Do you mind if I sit here?  All of the other tables are full," she said earnestly, giving a nod to the rest of the room.  "There's barely any room to breath, I think."

Elliot had come from work but managed to free himself from his tie.  He could finally relax a little today.  One boring, stuffy meeting after the next throughout the entire workday was enough to make him wonder why he'd chosen to become a partner.  There had been significantly fewer of them when he'd just been tottering off after Dolly, keeping her occupied and in line.  Mostly there had been occasional progress checks sent by owl.  His bosses had been too grateful for his competence to hover.

But now that the meetings were finished, he could actually get some work done.  He had a few manuscripts at home he wanted to read, personal projects he felt the world could truly benefit from.  If only he could convince his partners to publish them.  In order for him to be able to publish the books he wanted, he had to produce popular novels along the same vein as Dolly's books.  Something that was guaranteed to attract a large and dedicated fan-base.  So far, this author had shown a great deal of promise.  The plot was complex, the prose rich, and it dealt with romantic entanglements he wouldn't be embarrassed to attach his name to when he brought it up for approval.  It needed some work, of course, but it was good enough that the sounds of the extremely busy coffee shop faded away.

He had to blink a few time in confusion when a blonde woman asked him for a seat.  Once it processed.  He smiled and said, "Of course."  He put down the red quill he'd been using to make notes and took a sip of his tea, which had gone disappointing cold.  A wave of the wand fixed the temperature but it never tasted as good the second time.  "I don't know about you, but I usually prefer a shop with a little more room to breathe but I suppose it's just the cold rain driving everyone inside for a nice warm drink."

He held out his hand, fingers smeared with a little bit of red ink.  "My name is Elliot Griffin.  And you are?"

There had been a time when she had hesitated before shaking hands, when the two missing fingers had been an embarrassment, something she'd felt she had to hide or explain away.  But years and distance had made the wounds less sensitive.  Raizel laughed, flashing the man a bright smile as she reached to take his hand.

"Raizel Cohen," she said, putting the proper roll on the R.  He had a warm, firm grip; she decided that she liked him, smears of ink and all.  Most people in London did not seem as quick to engage in conversation as those that she preferred.  Anyone who responded in such a friendly manner to an unexpected interruption was clearly worth interrupting.

She swept into the seat, eager to be off her feet despite the fact that she'd spent only a short time outdoors.  Belatedly, she realized that she should have taken off her coat before sitting.  The inside of Alohomocha was much warmer and drier than the stormy streets outside had been, and if she was to spend any time in here at all, she'd need to be free of it.

"Yes.  It is very busy," she agreed, setting her mug down on the table.  She attempted to eye the crowd and slip off her coat at the same time, an awkward proposition at its best.  "I can't blame them though, in such miserable weather.  Do you come here often?" she asked, suddenly curious about her host.  "I've never seen it so full before."

Elliot closed the manuscript and pushed it aside.  He needed to get through it in a timely manner but it would be impolite to continue reading when she was clearly interested in striking up a conversation.  He  closed up is portable inkwell with a wave of his wand and sent it into his bag.  He took another sip of his disappointing tea.

"I'm afraid I don't come here all that often.  In fact, I haven't been in town for more than a few months."  He shrugged and looked around the crowded shop.  There were witches and wizards crowded around the bar waiting anxiously for their orders.  More still were finding seats.  It looked like some had even conjured their own chairs.  At least, he assumed they had because he couldn't imagine this place had lumpy pink armchairs with mothbitten holes in the back.  He raised his eyebrows in mild amusement.

"I can't imagine they have to deal with quite this many people on a regular basis.  At least... I hope not, or I'm going to have to find a new place to  read."

Raizel eyed her new company sidelong.  She hadn't expected the revelation that he was new to the city.  In her mind, even though she knew that the United Kingdom was very big, and that men and women could go their entire lives without traveling very far from the town where they were born, London seemed to be at the ever-changing, ephemeral heart of it.  She was used to treating every witch or wizard that she met as if they'd been a part of it for their entire lives.  It hadn't occurred to her that she might have been living in the city for longer now than a British wizard -- even this one, with the tinges of somewhere Northern in his speech -- though she rather liked the sense of it.

Even so, whether this Elliot Griffin was a regular or not, she would have readily agreed with him that the small cafe couldn't always be this busy -- but before she could join him in concordance, he mentioned why he found the crowd so unfortunate.

"You read?" Raizel's abrupt surprise had quickly solidified into delight.  She flashed the wizard an appreciative smile, regarding him with renewed interest.  She peered again at the papers that had been holding his interest before she had interrupted, but it looked to be work and nothing more.

"What sort of books do you read?  I find that many of the ones in English are quite good," she said seriously, as if she were an expert.  Unless -- "You don't just read for work, do you?" she asked with a quickly growing frown.  "If that's all that it is, you could always use an office."

Elliot smiled politely, trying not to feel vaguely insulted by the incredulous tone of her voice.  You read? A caveman like you?  Really?  He was fairly certain that wasn't how she'd meant it and gave her the benefit of the doubt on this rainy day.  "I do," he confirmed sagely. 

"I read all kinds of things: from biographies to muggle science-fiction.  It was always one of my passions growing up which is why I went into publishing, I suppose.  I want to bring the written word to people but I was never particularly skilled at writing myself."

He blinked a little in refined insult.  "I happen to be reading for work at the moment."  He waved an idle hand at the stack of papers he'd been going through.  "I can always go back to my office if I've somehow offended you though."  He quirked a refined eyebrow in a silent challenge.

Biographies, science fiction...it was as if she were drifting through a dream.  Raizel couldn't say that she'd ever read Muggle science fiction -- she didn't mind movies in the genre, which often consisted of extraterrestrial explosions that put even the best army exercises to shame, but the books that she'd suspiciously picked up once or twice had had far more robots than romance -- but even that couldn't stop her eagerness at finding a fellow reader.  This Elliot Griffin had immediately shifted from a vague curiosity to a person of immediate interest.

"No, no, no!"  She waved a hand, as if the idea of him departing was not even worth considering.  Why were the British so quick to assume that someone had been offended?  She hadn't even shouted this time.  Not to mention that he'd be lugging papers through the rain. Raizel had no intention of giving up this conversation so quickly. 

"Don't be silly.  You're reading something that you want to publish?"  She shifted in her seat, craning her neck to try and see the manuscript over his shoulder.  He'd said that was his job, after all; it was easy enough to put two and two together.  "What kind of book is it?  It isn't science fiction, is it?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.  Even on a boring rainy day, that wasn't necessarily something she wanted to plow through.  "If it is, I think that maybe you should find something better to publish."

Elliot wasn't entirely certain if this woman knew how she came across.  Increasingly judgemental about topics she really didn't have enough information on.  He decided he'd give her the benefit of the doubt.  Perhaps she didn't realize what she was doing or how off-putting the social ineptitude could be.  He smiled at her regardless. 

"It's not science-fiction," he reassured her gently.  When she craned to read it, however, he recombined the stack of papers to cover the words and then put the whole thing into his case.  "It's actually a romantic fiction.  I'm a publisher with   Trollhouse, these are some of our bestsellers and we get a lot of submissions to work through."

He took another sip of his acrid coffee and resisted the temptation to tell her that his next project was going to be science-fiction just to spite her and see what she would say.  Instead he just smiled politely and folded his hands in his lap.