Brett didn't get to spend nearly as much time a the Hopping Pot as she used to. She had grown up around the little pub, surrounded by ministry workers. Brett could remember being a little kid, perched on the edge of the bar, listening intently as aurors described capturing criminals. She'd always been fascinated by their stories, and it had only increased her desire to be one herself some day. And here she was, in auror training, wearing scarlet robes as she strolled through the front door of the small bar after a long day at work.

She settled herself on a stool in front of her big brother, and tossed him a winning smile. "Good to see you, Zeke," she said. "Don't suppose you love me enough to get me a pint?" Brett asked, pulling a bowl of pretzels over in front of her. She munched on a few, then stretched a little from her stool, stifling a yawn.

"Don't see Da around, guess he left you in charge for the evening? Wouldn't surprise me. Mum always did want him to come home earlier. Guess with you running the show now he can do that. How's the tattoo business?" She took the pint her brother offered, and took a few long drinks from it. Merlin, there was no beer in the world quite like that at the Hopping Pot. But maybe that was nostalgia talking. She could remember her dad sneaking her drinks since she was a teenager.

She shrugged off her coat and handed it over the bar to Zeke. "Wanna stash that back there for me? Don't need it in here. Don't suppose I could get something to eat? Some bar food would probably be the most delicious thing ever right now. Chips and cheese, maybe?"

Zeke was in his natural habitat, doing the thing he did best (polishing up glassware). For a Friday night they were not yet hopping so to speak and the sight of his baby sister coming through the door in her scarlet robes was a welcome one. He smiled as she plopped herself down and started going a mile a minute, that was just Brett. She was a talker, like their father. Zeke was more of a watcher, though he did lean across the bar and drop brotherly affectionate kiss on her forehead, "Good t'see you Janie," his voice was a deep baritone, rumbling from the center of his chest - the same way it had since he was all of fourteen years old.

Sliding the pint toward Brett, he poked his head through the kitchen door, "Chips extra cheesy, Merida. We've got one of the trainee program's finest out here starvin"! From the depth of the kitchen came the sound of a clanging ship bell, signalling the wobbly old cook had gotten the order and it'd be right up. Merida Flicksizzle was one of the select few of the Hopping Pot's employees who was not a direct part of the Abraham bloodline. She was a stooped over old witch with bright blue eyes and one good tooth, sweet as the cakes she cooked up and sold on the side. She had a particular soft spot for the baby of the clan.

Pouring himself a shot of firewhiskey Zeke finally got about to answering Brett's other questions as he stowed her coat safely behind the bar, "Aye, Pops did inventory this morning, now Mams got him off to the Dooley's for their weekly bridge game. Not sure, but I thought I spied the old man trying to tamper with the kegs just so he wouldn't have to go," there was a bit of laughter tacked onto the statement as Zeke shook his head. "Ol' Man never did care much for dinner with the Dooleys. Business s'alright. Lala's sent some people over my way. I figure I'll get flooded right around Easter Hols. It's when all the wee ones want to sneak some ink to hack off daddy".

He downed his shot quickly and slammed the glass against the bar (as tradition dictated) before he went back to wiping down the glassware, listening for the old woman to call up Brett's order, "What about you Janie, Luv? I get to go after Fayette yet, or you saving that up for a birthday present? Radley hasn't mentioned catching you in any closets lately. Suppose I should take it as good news," he paused in the middle of his teasing as an aged hand - nearly crippled with arthritis poked itself out the swinging doors clutching a tray with the most gloriously cheesy slices of potatoes you could ever hop to see, which Ezekiel promptly took and offered to his sister, "I really hope you're eating better than this Squeaks. That stuff'll kill you".

outft

Emmylou pushed through the pub’s door, migrating to the bar with the unhurried pace of someone who didn’t need to be anywhere in particular. Trading in coffee for pints sounded like a good idea, though. She had made a habit of popping in once in a while since graduation to greet the Abrahams, whose brood she’d been in school with (including one of the bartenders). Her father had been a regular, first as an auror, and then as a Wizengamot member. Though his daughter had certainly not followed in his footsteps, and had, for at least a while, been rather angry with the Ministry, there was a kind of nostalgia in knowing that he’d sat right there in his red robes.

 “Look at you, a vision red.” She smiled, coming up behind the unmistakable form of Brett. She gave the girl a one-armed hug from the side as she slipped onto the stool beside her. “You actually make those look good.” Something of a task since Emmylou had decided that law enforcement was incompetent. But so many of her friends had joined the auror training program that it was hard not to be a little less judgmental, more enthusiastic about the force’s future.

“And Zeke,” she said, turning to look at the young man behind the bar, grinning. “A vision with chips and pints.” She’d missed everything but the tail end of their conversation, but gave her opinion, anyway. “She has to spend all day with Pratt. I think she’s earned those." Emmylou didn’t have to, but chips still sounded good. And alcohol... "I'll take a pint of what she's having. Please." Her grin redoubled with glittery politeness (and a little bit of bring on the pints). "How are things in Abrahamland?" She asked the pair of them, looking from one to the other.

Brett scrunched up her nose. Zeke had been calling her Janie since she was a kid, and it still annoyed her every time he did it. But she had long since stopped trying to get him just to call her Brett. Her big brother refused to change, and apparently liked reminding Brett that she was supposed to be a lady. At least the other brothers hadn't picked up the habit, too. Instead she took a long drink from the pint he slid across the bar. "Who could blame him, though? The Dooleys are boring people and I've never seen a more henpecked husband in my life. Da's probably afraid it will give Mum ideas. She always gets a little more bossy after their bridge games."

She laughed when he said people would want to sneak ink to annoy their fathers. "Lucky you, Zeke. But business is business, I guess. From what I've seen you're getting loads better. Maybe one day I'll let you ink me up." Just nothing as lame as her current tattoo- the lightning bolt inspired from one too many drinks. At least it had quit making thundering sounds.

"Now I've told you a million times to keep your hands to yourself. You don't have any reason to go after Dax. He's not done anything wrong. If you want to go after anyone, you can find Iggy and give him a good pounding for me. He was fun while he lasted, but kept making jokes about having sex with my roommates and it started to get annoying. I thought dating a wrock star would be a blast... Novelty wore off, I guess." Brett shrugged a little, and picked up one of her cheesey chips between her fingers, tilted her head back, and lowered it into her mouth. She missed Iggy regularly, he had been fun, but it seemed her jealousy got the better of her. Which was surprising, Brett had never really thought of herself as a jealous person.

"Besides, Radley hasn't got any business telling you about my personal life. And if I wasn't minding my Ps and Qs, I'd tell him as much. But I'm trying to be on my best behavior." But she didn't need to go into details. She knew that Zeke had probably heard about her minor melt down from their older brother Jacob, if not from the other aurors who frequented The Hopping Pot.  "And Dax isn't all bad, Zeke. He's been my best friend for years. He's a good person. I don't hate every girl you've ever snogged, you could do the same for me."

Brett was glad for the distraction that came in the form of Emmylou. She beamed when her old dorm mate gave her half a hug. "Thanks, Emmy! I like to think I look pretty good in them." She struck a pose from her bar stool, then slid the basket of chips and cheese over to share them with her friend. "And yes, what she said. I've earned them. I was a regular hero earlier in the week, you know. Helped nab this guy who nearly killed a little kid. I'm allowed some bar food."

"Things are good. Just focusing on my training. You should come by the house some time, Emmy. I bet Fauna, Grace, Dax, and Dion would like to see you. We're always having company when we have the free time. I should talk them into having some kind of a party soon. We could all use the chance to relax and have some fun."