Dallas tapped his fingers on the wooden table. He was nervous, and he didn't like it. He was supposed to meet Althea at seven fifteen so they could discuss the field trip in a few weeks. He had left his hat at home and he felt a little anxious without it. His finger tapping picked up. He'd pulled a plain blue and white button down out of his closet, thinking it'd be a refreshing change to his aggressive red flannel shirts. He wouldn't sacrifice his jeans for anything, no matter how pretty a woman was.

He hadn't ordered yet, but all he'd be consuming was butterbeer. His leg started bouncing under the table, everything in him wanting to get out before Althea walked through the door. He tried to busy himself with grading papers. But he was too nervous to read straight, and didn't want to jeopardize a student's grades for his lack of control.

He swallowed as the door opened and short curly-topped Althea strolled in. He waved, hoping she would see him. "Althea!" He said loudly, just for good measure.

Althea walked into the small pub with a smile, and a notebook under one arm. She kept up the bubbly attitude and the smiles, knowing that behind them hid a small and nervous woman, who was really regretting doing any of this. Why did she prepose the idea? She had the trip planned out already. She didn't need help. But they both knew that was just a cover for a date.

No. None of this date talk. This was a discussion. Between two teachers. About things. And if they decided to order a drink, then so be it. This wasn't a big deal. This wasn't something to freak everyone out. This was two coworkers. Who mingled. That's all. She saw Dallas waving nervously, and she could tell by his body language  he was just as freaked out as she. That was good.

"How are you, Mr. Locksley?" She asked, sitting down across from him. She didn't know what student ears were listening, and didn't care to make rumors around the school. That was Gale's job. To tell everyone.

Oh gosh. Dallas tried not to piss his pants when Althea sat down across from him at the table. He gulped, trying to swallow his irrational fear. “I’m well Ms. Santucci, and you?” he said ‘Ms.’ Respectfully, he didn’t want to blatantly remind her of her single-ness, which would then remind her of his single-ness, and there was just a lot of single-ness he didn’t want brought up, so he said ‘Ms.’. He didn’t wish to have an awkward silence either, that would give his cheeks a chance to turn from a hot red to bright crimson.

“Would you like to order something before we get started?” He offered, raising a hand for the barmaid to shuffle her way towards them. He didn’t want to embarrass himself again by eating like a pig again. He decided he wouldn’t be eating while he was nervous, nope, not tonight. He’d order one drink, maybe two if he needed a little extra warmth later in the evening. He slid his elbows off the table and realized the massive height difference between the two of them, even when sitting down.

He slowly slid down in his chair a bit, trying to close the height gap, subtlety, without drawing attention to his intention. Realizing his knees would have to hit the floor to even out the difference; Dallas tossed the idea and straightened his back, planting his boots firmly on the floor. He silently cursed Kesali for setting him up with such a petite woman and adding to his worry. The waitress eventually wound up next to their table. “What can I get you two this evening?” She said, quill in hand.

“I’ll just have a butterbeer please.” Dallas said after a suitable time interim had passed. The barmaid scratched the order down and looked to Althea. “And for you Ma’m?”

Althea looked up at the barmaid with a smile. "I'll have a tea with one cream and two sugars. Please." She said, trying to avoid the awkwardness. The woman nodded, as she went off to put the order in. Althea started to ruffle around her papers, and then. when she found the rosters that she was looking, lost in her disorganization, she addressed Dallas. "I'm well." She smiled, looking back at her papers.

"So, I have some outlines, here," She said, sliding them to him. "And, well, I can't seem to find the other rosters." She said, rifling through the documents. She was too disorganized. That was why she kept multiple copies of each document. So that if she lost one of them, she'd have plenty of others. "It's gotta be somewhere."

Dallas was glad Althea had gone right to business; he felt the awkwardness of the situation slowly melting away and allowed himself to relax a little. He looked at the outline Althea had slid over to him on the table. He adjusted his neck and twisted the paper so he could get a good look at it. The trip seemed pretty basic. He’d need a map; he didn’t know London as well as some others might. He thoroughly read through the document while Althea searched for her class roster. “So each chaperone gets a group, do we pair up with another chaperone and their group? Or will every group independently tour the city?” He asked without hesitation.

Maybe he wasn’t as terrible at talking to women as he thought, or maybe it was because he was actually confused. “And what should to students be observing? Clothing and mannerisms? Speech patterns and different cuisines? That sort of thing?” Dal asked, wanting to make sure he had everything under his belt before the trip.

Althea settled on never finding the suggested paper, and as her tea arrived, started on his questions. It was nice of him to volunteer to help. She needed all that she could get. "Each group kind of does their own thing. Really, we're just portkey traveling with our group, and then letting the students loose. The students get to walk in a few blocks of area. We'll have chaperones posted at end of each of the streets. If your students want to leave the designated area, they have to come to you. You'd  then take them to where they want to go."

"They are really allowed to walk and feel like a muggle. I want them to fully experience everything about London on their own. They'll observe, and shop, and do all they want to do for a few hours, and then, we all take another portkey back to Hogwarts, once your group is all accounted for." She said, looking up from her search once again. She blushed, looking away. "You know, you don't have to sit here with me. I, I know I was stupid asking you out like that. I, I'm not good at this kind of stuff."

She took a sip of tea. Maybe Gale was wrong. Maybe Dallas wasn't the one for her. Did she even have a One? Did they even exist? Life would have been a whole lot easier if she didnt have a One. Though it would be more sad. Definitely more sad.

Dallas nodded and continued to ask questions when their drinks arrived. Other pieces of paper made their way out of her bag and onto the table, bring more questions from Dallas. He sipped his butterbeer lightly and scratched a few notes into the small notepad he always carried around with him; with each answer another line of messy script found its way onto the lined paper. “This is a really good field trip idea” Dallas finally said, when the majority of his questions were answered. “I think it’s great for kids to get a hands-on experience like this” He added, closing his notebook and taking another sip of his butterbeer.

Dal’s ears perked and a small frown crossed his stubbly face. “Why wouldn’t I want to sit here with you? This is nice.” Dallas leaned back in his chair. “I normally get really ridiculous and silly in these kinds of settings, I’m still kind of nervous now, to tell you the truth. And if we’re being truthful, I’m terrible at this too.” Locksley admitted, scratching the back of his neck with his fingerpads. "The only woman I've ever been able to sit down and have a conversation with is my mother, I think I know what you're feeling." He laughed lightly, not sure if he had admitted his fear of women, or insulted Althea to the point where she would slap him across the face and storm away from the pub.

Althea smiled, as he admitted his own nervousness. That made her feel a little better. Maybe she wasn't completely alone in this feeling. But could two awkward people make it work? Was that even remotely possible? She had to remind herself to ask Gale about it later. He'd know. He was good at this relationship stuff. While Althea was completely clueless.

"Well, I think we both know what Gale is expecting out of this. Maybe, maybe we should give this a try." She said, not really even knowing what 'This' was. She had to take the risk. She had to try this out. Adventure was out there, and she wasn't going to find it by sitting back and complaining. She wasn't getting any younger, and if she wanted this to actually work, she'd have to just move on. But moving on was hard, and scary, and she didn't even know she wanted to.

"I mean, uh, if you want to give this a try, I mean, I just," She started to blush once more, sighing, and placing her head in her hands. "This is a new experience to me. My last relationship did not end well." She explained, looking up and tidying her papers to put them back in the bag.

Dallas about say that this was his first and only date in his life, but then decided to stuff that thought away. He was noticing that Althea was rather adorable when she was worried about little things. He wasn’t quite sure what This was either, but he was willing to find out what road This took him down. It could go on for a long time, or it could stop at a dead end, there would be potholes and bumps, and intersections where they’d have to make a decision, but Dallas was tired of wandering the same road he’d been down several times before. Maybe a relationship with someone would shake his routine and get him to loosen up.

She was blushing, his damn Scottish cheeks were blushing, “I’d be happy to try This, and if it doesn’t work out, no harm done.” He said as she put her head in her hands. “We can take it slow, if that’s what works. We can jump off that bridge when we get there.” He shrugged his long black coat onto his broad shoulders. He grabbed a few coins out of his pocket and clicked two galleons onto the table. That should pay both the drinks and the tip. To karate chop the awkward out of the Three Broomsticks, Dal began to attempt something he was never really good at, small talk. Chatter, a bit of the gab, as they called it back home.

“So I heard you like clocks. Do you have a favorite?” One of Darrel’s neighbors growing up was a carpenter and a clock maker, when Dal was a boy he’d sit and wait with his friends at noon in front of the carpenter’s shop and listen for the massive din of noice from all of the clocks going off, all the cuckoos jumping from their nests and bells tolling twelve.