The fox’s paws smacked dully against the cobbled ground, as its slim body limped around a corner. Night was the perfect cover for the animal’s intentions, a blanket that hid the creature from preying eyes. The slap of flapping winds piercing through particles of oxygen, and the soft symphony of rain splattering against the ground beneath it were all that disturbed Adam Turner’s hearing, as he bent around yet another corner in his animagus form. With a delicate clacking of teeth, the fox snapped at a wandering rodent, at the exact same time as he noted his query further ahead: a tall figure stood shrouded in shadows, dark enough to join the spectral world of the unrecognizable. Hugging the threshold of an apparently empty shop, Adam transformed back into his human self, quickly tucking the neck of his leather jacket high around his cheekbones. The air was bitter and cold, biting at his jaw line as rain forced itself along his flesh. The Cursebreaker bent one shoulder in front of himself, bracing the rest of his body from the torment, as he stepped forwards.

The exchange was handled in a matter of guttural grunts and half-hidden sneers, as Adam handed over the money and the package was, in change, deposited in his hands. Pulling the brown paper back slightly, his stormy eyes fell to inspect that everything was right, before jerking his head in a poor attempt at a nod. Without a single syllable spoken, the Cursebreaker turned on his heels and stalked away, shoulders straight and neck perked up, manipulating his body in every way he was aware of to appear taller than he truly was. As he walked, his strides long and hurried, his right thigh burning at the violent speed, he carefully placed the file he’d just been handed inside his jacket, intent on reading it as soon as he got home, over a glass of wine. He was eager to speed through its contents and perhaps gather a further understanding of the stranger who’d contacted him just a few nights before, with a job as peculiar as it was unexplained. They needed him to find an object –that was all they said, and he’d been informed further instructions would come if he accepted the job. First, however, he wished to know his employer’s identity.

But he had other matters to attend to this evening.

With a snap, and after an awfully uncomfortable sensation, Adam was in Hogsmeade –with enough time to spare before his meeting to enjoy a warm drink. Sleet was falling in this sector of the world, brutal and unkind in its embrace. Again shielding himself with an upraised shoulder, the Cursebreaker hurried into the Three Broomsticks, before letting the collar of his jacket fall and the warmth of the pub embrace him. The clattering of cups and metal against plates met his ears, but Adam ignored the tables, instead approaching the bar. The animagus slid himself onto one of the tall stools, laying his wrists against the splintered wooden counter carefully. “A vodka. Straight.” He ordered. No please, no thank you, no pleasantries.  And as he waited for his drink to be served, he turned and let his grey eyes inspect the people that populated the establishment.

Waiting on an order, Anna had found herself alone at the bar for a moment.  It didn't happen terribly often, but it did happen.  Her tables were all fine for the moment and she had started to go through the checks while she waited for the food order that would likely be up any minute.  She hadn't noticed the man slide on to one of the stools, and her head shot up at the order.  There was no please, no thank you.  She eyes him for a moment, noting that he really paid her no mind as her turned to survey those around him.  He was either meeting someone or up to something.

She poured the vodka into one of the glasses, placing it before him on a cocktail size napkin.  The bar wasn't her domain, but she was capable of pouring a simple drink if no one else could wait on a patron at that moment.  She would likely be keeping a bit of an eye on him as she went about her business to make sure he wasn't there to cause trouble.

"Here you go," she said.  "Can I get you anything else?"

To untrained eyes, the customers in The Three Broomsticks might seem odd, this evening: a witch with a missing eye was arguing with a man so hairy he might be confused as a werewolf; two leprechauns in deep discussion, and so on. But Adam had long ago grown used to the oddities of the wizarding world, and so nothing stood out to him as his grey eyes swerved around the lot. Not a single one of them caught his interest, nor did anyone seem interested in staring at him –which was one bloody hell of a relief. Letting a low whistle pour past his lips, Adam made himself more comfortable on the stool, as he heard the dull sound of a glass being placed on a paper napkin, and a female voice announce his order behind him. With a roll of his eyes, he turned his attention from the customers to the workers, his shoulders hunching just the slightest bit as he turned back towards the bar.

“If I did,” He stated simply, as his gaze fell to the ordinary glass that held his vodka, though of complaining about presentation –if only to rise a little hell-, then shrugged the thought away and picked it up. “I would have just ordered everything together, now wouldn’t I have?” Pressing the cold glass to his lips, the alcohol burnt a fierce path down his throat, setting the pit of his stomach to flames but not quite quenching his thirst. With a pleased sigh, he set the tall glass back down on the counter, and only then let his eyes inspect that woman he’d given it to him: blondes might be a bit of a cliché, but there was no denying that this girl was attractive. Perhaps he could entertain himself while he waited for his meeting.

“I’m sorry –hasn’t been a good day,” He made himself sound a bit more pleasant, though the fact that he was actually apologizing to this girl he didn’t even know irked him in such a way that his nerve endings seemed to twist painfully. “A bit of distraction might just help,” With a lopsided smile, Adam lent forward, wrists coming to rest on the edge of the bar, as his fingers linked together and his shoulders pulled inwards, eyes glinting playfully. “What’s your name, doll?” He held back vomit at the term of endearment.

Anna had learned very quickly not to let the moods of patrons effect her.  As a counselor she had spent a lot of time discovering all the shades of gray within people.  Humans weren't all good or bad.  It didn't mean she didn't find his response a bit rude, after all she had served him to be helpful since the barkeep was currently unavailable.

“I’m sorry –hasn’t been a good day."

She had started to turn towards a pile of clean silverware that needed to be sorted and put in the appropriate spot.  The apology caught her a bit of guard though and she stopped to look at him again.  Generally when a patron took out their frustration of the day on her they didn't usually try to make up for it.  She reminded herself again, shades of gray.

“A bit of distraction might just help.  What’s your name, doll?”

A half smile, almost a smirk played at the corner of her mouth at the term of endearment.  She could play the game, but it would take more then a few insincere pretty words to get her true interest.  She wasn't a girl any more, and life had caused her to be more then a little weary of attractive men who changed their tune once they realized she was a pretty face.

"Arianna," she said.  "Or just Anna if you like.  And yours?"

There was a shadow of a smile upon her lips, though wither it was mocking or teasing or simply pleased at the attention, he couldn’t quite tell. He felt like he was looking at a painting in the darkness: he could see some details, but he needed more light to really gather in the entire picture. Still, he managed to keep his own mischievous grin in place as she answered, and he found himself raising a hand to the top of his used glass and dragging a finger around the brim. He looked at her as seductively as he could –which was a rather damned seductive look, by hell. Then, he tipped the drinking recipient on the side and slid it towards her.

“What’s your poison?” He asked, as he let it stand again closer to her, hopefully a clear indication that he wanted another. “My treat,” Adam winked at her, then shrugged. “It’s always better to drink with a pretty lady than alone,” Merlin, he felt like vomiting at the sweet way in which he was flirting, but somehow managed to stay upright and pleasant. “I’m Adam, and it’s my pleasure to meet you.” Somebody hex him. Now.