23 April 2010
Friday
8:15pm

The weather was nicer these days, but there weren't as many people out as he might have expected.  The rash of Dementor sightings in the north had darkened every doorway and frozen fearful smiles onto everyone's faces.  An already tattering poster from the Ministry of Magic was tacked to the door to say farewell to those leaving: Smile!, it read.

Nate was at a table by a window looking out onto High Street.  He had a dry cider, Daily Prophet, and a cigarette.  Very bad for you, but he was presently fine with the notion of darkening his lungs.  It was a rough thing to go to Azkaban, and a rough thing to return home.

It'd had been just about a week now.  He'd thought that when he got out, he'd spend every moment with his wife, but he was finding that he kept seeking out solitude.  But when he did, he was restless for company.

Which is what pubs were for.  A place you could be alone while with a crowd of people. 

A burst of laughter went up at a nearby table of twenty-something blokes.  They banged on the table with a mirth that would keep any Dementors away. 

But then, as Nate uncrossed his ankle from his knee, he felt something under the table.

Another workweek had come to a close. Normally this didn't matter much for Claire -- she pretty much lived at Zonkos -- but for once, she had a little time off. She skipped out of work early and actually put on some clothes that weren't stained, burned, or destroyed in anyway. It wasn't an easy task, but she managed to throw something presentable (at least by Claire's standards). She topped it off with her little bodyguard necklace, a gold T-Rex skeleton charm that grew up to 50 times its size if Claire were to be threatened. It was one of her own inventions and she always wore one when she was going out. It was particularly helpful when she drank too much, which she had every intention of doing tonight.

She sauntered into the Three Broomsticks and ordered the Four Horseman, sending him to sea to ensure that Claire too would be sent off into drunkland. She downed the drink quickly, smacking her lips together when she was done. As a true Irish lass, she was a big fan of whiskey. That certainly had done the trick, too -- as a bunch of shots would. It was one of those kinds of nights.

That is, until a guy she'd been totally trying to avoid walked in. Claire quickly ordered a beer and slipped to a table she thought would be out of the way... but the Three Broomsticks wasn't the biggest place and so she found herself sliding underneath the table. She sipped on her beer and figured she'd wait until the weirdo who'd been trying to make her pay her rent disappeared. He was her "landlord," she supposed, but it wasn't as if she spent that much time in her own apartment! And despite producing dozens of products for Zonko's, the pay still wasn't great.

Her hiding spot had been great until someone sat at the table she was hiding under. They must have not seen her, which was fine, but now she was awkwardly stuck underneath the table.

Whatever he bumped felt alive.  It wasn't a table-leg or a beer bottle.  It was something with a bit of sturdiness and give.  He leaned back and and angled his head to have a casual look.  Yes. It was a person.  He looked back up to gaze past his cider and take a deep breath before looking down again.  Yes.  A person.  A witch.  With spotted shoes. 

This time he leaned down to look full on under the table.  He didn't recognize her, nor did he expect to.  "Hello," he said without cheer.  "Do you know something I don't?"

A girl hiding under his table at the pub - this hadn't ever happened to him before and so he thought he should give her the benefit of the doubt.  Perhaps she had more experience than he did in the matter.  Perhaps she'd hidden under many tables and it was he who was the novice.  That being the likely case, and not wanting to perhaps upset a fine tradition of hunkering beneath furniture, he thought he might take it as a learning opportunity.

Or a moment to allow himself a paragraph of private sarcasm. Either or.

And just as Claire had been getting cozy despite the invasion, she was discovered. Well, it was just a matter of time. She yanked whoever-it-was' shirt quickly and forcefully, pulling the stranger to the ground while whispering "SHHHH!" Claire had a bit of unexpected strength- she didn't look like much but she spent a lot of time wrestling with overgrown gummy bears.

"That's my landlord over there and -" should she disclose her financial information? Well, what she was about to say would probably deter them from stealing from her anyway. "I haven't paid my rent in like two months, but it's mostly because I keep forgetting." That was the honest truth, too. Keeping track of which day of the month it was? That seemed like a lot of effort for little payoff.

"Sorry I pulled you down here, but," Claire took another long gulp from her beer. "Ye kind of blew my cover." Another sip. Slowly but surely, as Claire's blood alcohol level rose, her Irish accent would come rushing back. With Claire, you see what you get - and when you get her drunk enough, ye hear it too.

He hadn't expected that!  She got the slip on him and with a good grip on his shirt tail, she pulled him under!  Once his butt was off the chair, it slid back and he didn't have a chance.  So he adjusted his bum on the cold stone floor and resigned himself to his new life under the table.  With a debtor. 

Nate had to smile, though.  He had a soft spot for anyone who'd hide from authority.  He himself enjoyed dodging his landlord on a sunny weekend.  "My name is Nate and - " he interrupted himself.  "Hold on."  He snaked his arm up and on top of the table and it came back into view with his half-glass of cider.  He took a drink and continued.

"Nate.  I like hiding from landlords too.  I've got a few tips, if you like."

"My name is Nate and- Hold on.""

He took this pause to grab his drink from the table, which was a good move. A table with just a drink at it might attract some suspicion from barkeeps and other patrons. During the lull, Claire took a sip of her drink and waited for Nate to finish what he had been saying. She didn't recognize him, and she lived in Hogsmeade, so she recognized the regulars. It was a Friday night, though, so it wasn't too surprising. Maybe he was new in the area. He hadn't mugged her yet, so that was a good sign.

"Nate. I like hiding from landlords too. I've got a few tips, if you like."

Claire drank a bit more, but was attempting to conserve her drink so that she wouldn't have to cross paths with her landlord. "I could use some tips," she responded. "Anything on how to get a drink when your landlord is standing at the bar?" His advice would be valuable in this situation, whoever he was and wherever he had come from. "I'm Claire," she remembered to add. If he liked landlords, what did she like? "I like embarrassing landlords." That could be interesting...

Claire, it seemed, was bold and not as wary of strangers as Nate had learned to be.  So ready she was to bunker down with a who-knows and engage in a discussion of minor crimes.  Wasn't he supposed to be steering away from that? A shade passed over his face for a moment, remembering again where he'd been these last months, but it faded quickly.

He followed her indication to see a wizard at the bar.  Right in the middle.  He was certainly in the way. 

"Beards," he whispered.  "You need a good beard charm.  People are made uncomfortable by overgrown beards.  No one has them by choice, you see.  This, " he indicated his fashionable stubble, "is fashion.  But that," there was a stooped old wizard visible just beyond the fireplace with a ghastly thicket on his chin, "is frightening.  Get yourself one of those and people will do everything they can to avoid eye contact."

"Might as well be invisible."

"Beards,"

Claire listened closely to Nate's advice, considering what he said very carefully. This advice was unique, which was certainly a bonus. If she had been speaking with her sister, the advice would have been entirely different- something more along the lines of "just pay your bloody rent, Claire." A beard was much easier, though not everyone may have realized why. Claire began rummaging through her small purse, which she had charmed to store all of her inventions. It was a handy charm, since it was always good to have her tricks around with her in case she needed them. A situation like this called for the He/Shehorse.

Without explanation, Claire began quickly rubbing the small, smooth seahorse figurine between her fingers and then threw it up in the air, where it began to spin above Claire's head, disappearing and producing a very realistic image of a man. Thankfully the charm also produced appropriate clothes, which had been the trickiest part in the invention process. This man still had many of Claire's features, and if a few more biological traits of her were changed, this would very well be her. "Be back in a minute," she said gruffly, standing up and walking as mannishly as she could to the bar. She ordered two double whiskeys, and then took a long route around the bar back to the table they'd been at. She discretely slid to the floor once again and plucked the He/Shehorse  out of the air above her head, returning to her natural state.

"More whiskey for later?" she offered her new friend the second glass while taking a sip of her own.

Nate has seen plenty of women with beards.  There'd been a popular charm at school when he was there and students were flinging it around in the halls, causing the innocent passerby to sprout whiskers.  But it was another thing to see the young witch next to him shift shape into a pretty fellow.

Her man-swagger did need a little work though.  She looked like a bow-legged sailor learning to walk on dry land.  And as her disguise allowed she paraded in front of the landlord, ordered them some drinks and came back.

"Welcome. Well done.  And cheers."  He raised his glass a few inches and took a drink with her.  "Not to be an ungracious guest, though, it might be time for me to sit on a chair.  Wild, I know, but it does have its advantages."  His arse was cramping.

"Welcome. Well done. And cheers."

"Slainte," Claire said, tapping her glass with his. She downed a bit more, realizing that it probably wouldn't be too long before she'd have to return to the bar. Perhaps she could somehow manipulate this new pal into going. It really would be best if she avoided her landlord altogether, especially if they were both drinking.

"Not to be an ungracious guest, though, it might be time for me to sit on a chair. Wild, I know, but it does have its advantages."

"That's fine, but if he catches me, you're paying my rent," Claire joked. Reluctantly, Claire agreed and followed Nate to the table, cautiously looking around. She carefully (and quietly) moved her chair so that her back was to the bar. That would have to do for now. "So, what brings ye to Hogsmeade?" As she had previously observed, Nate wasn't a familiar face in these parts, not that it was a bad thing.

Ah, she asked about him.  Settled back above ground, Nate gave himself a second to think about how much he wanted to say by taking a big pull from his glass. 

"Avoiding Knockturn Alley," he said leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table.  He hadn't yet figured out how to handle his new legal status as an ex-con.  A bungled burglar, a former prisoner of Azkaban.  Was he ashamed? Embarassed? Bored? Above it? Badged with honor for being hard as nails and a law-flouter?  He had a hard time imagining that this funny lass would be all too impressed with it.  But then again, maybe she wouldn't be phased, what with her landlord troubles...

"I live there, but not quite sure that's the company I'd like to keep any more.  I think I'm a bit too clever and pretty for that.  What do you reckon?"

An irreverent quip to punctuate a real truth.

Claire knew a lot about Knockturn Alley, mainly that they had the best spices, herbs, and whatnot to put in her potions and brews for the different inventions she created. The ones in the other areas of Wizarding London just didn't seem to be nearly as pungent. She also knew, however, that a number of sketchy characters liked to hang around there. It wasn't a place that Claire preferred to spend her time, but she certainly wouldn't judge someone for where they lived. Perhaps it was something she ought to look in; rent was probably cheaper if you lived next door to a scary one-toothed old hag.

The company he didn't like to keep any more lived there too, though now he was apparently too 'clever and pretty' for such people. "Well, I've always felt the same," Claire responded cheerfully. She had a few friends who lived in the area and for some reason she tended to avoid too much danger when visiting, but her bright clothes and wacky personality didn't quite fit in with the Knockturn Look. "I'd say you're pretty enough, but I'm not sure about clever," Claire joked. She took another sip of her drink. "Though I think you're a bit more clever than some of the folks I've seen down there."

Nate raised an eyebrow at her in a twinge like upper-class offense.  Didn't she now?  She didn't think he was clever?  That was the best way to set Nate off, stir up his ego, and prompt him to do things he'd otherwise have the better judgement not to.  It was the Ravenclaw drop-out's only hook to hang his hat on. 

"Aw, you've done it, Claire McByrne," he said as he lifted in his seat to see the bar.  The landlord was still there and Nate decided that the look of him was one who'd be there for the rest of the night.  Nate downed the rest of his cider and slid out of this seat.

"Let's go, then.  Let's sort you out."

It was a suggestion, and it would be more fun.  And maybe it would actually be worth it.

She'd done... what? Claire blinked at him for a moment, confused, and realized that her drink was now empty. Though she'd had a bunch of whiskey and a beer, she was seemingly unaffected by the alcohol -- Claire was pretty oblivious in general, and she didn't quite know this guy's MO yet. When it came to drinking, she was certainly a champ, and thusly assumed that Nate was offering to get more drinks.

She fetched the he/she-horse back from her bag and held it out to him. "Get them for free!" Claire offered. The invention was a pretty handy one, at least when it came to dodging landlords. It wasn't that Claire didn't make enough to pay her rent -- it was just that money burned a hole in her pocket, and she was easily distracted by interesting products she could use to create more items. She was working on a hanger that made your clothes dissolve, which was another invention inspired by her sister, who became most hilariously infuriated when one of Claire's toys somehow stained new clothes.

Nate took the squishy little seahorses offered, had a look, and pocketed them.  He shrugged his jacket further up on his shoulders and proceeded towards the door.  He looked back hoping she was following.  The landlord was distracted, but she'd need to be quick if she didn't want to get noticed.

Outside, he turned up his collar and leaned against a lamppost.  "I've got two very clever ideas. Entertain them."

Smug bastard.  He stuck his hands under his arms.  "First, we could put your little treasures to work down in Diagon and get your landlord his money in no time.  Or second, and far better.  Disappear to Knockturn.  The Sodding Arms always has vacancies."

Nate had been a longtime guest of the hotel/apartments, a ramshackled old building that still had hints of its former glory before Knockturn absorbed it.  Nate lived on the top floor in the corner apartment.  Occasionally his wife Dazmond Wiedman lived there too.  It was cheap, dirty, and rent was...flexible.