The sun had set an hour ago, bringing the start of the weekend to Violet Islington’s doorstep. Most Londoners rejoiced at the signs of spring, the vaguely warmer weather, greener parks, longer days. But it was that last one, the sun setting later and later each evening, that made it a pesky time of year for the editor. It was not quite so bad as summer, not yet— the height of June was dismal— but already she had had to adjust her work schedule twice, and employees were finding themselves heaped with more desk work, having to correspond with their boss by Floo before their much-dreamed-about holidays. Fashion would shut down for a few weeks in the summer, but resort collections and the gala season were only just beginning. It was a small favor that the biggest issues of the year were published in March and September.

While work never really confined itself to eight hours a night, five days a week, Violet had had decades to learn the importance of enjoying one’s time off. Of spending it wisely, and on one’s self. Weekends especially. It was not worth the hassle of crying assistants and confused interns, to spring a Saturday meeting on anyone just for the fun of it. (There were, of course, Saturday meetings, as humans were not in the habit of being superhuman and fashion designers were least dependable humans in existence.)

Now the vampire strolled unhurriedly through Diagon Alley, eyes consuming mildly the goings-on of her wizarding counterparts. Most of them had tumbled out of bed a little bit closer to sunset, too. The perks of Saturday. They poured into restaurants, bars, shops, the occasional theater or venue crammed into the vibrant wizarding thoroughfare. They ate food that she could not, and some might end up lingering until sunrise, but Violet would be lying if she did not readily admit that there were perks to what muggles called eternal damnation.

And she didn't shy away from them. Within the structure of the law, of course.

She paused in front of a street artist’s stall, taking in rather abstract, enchanted paintings that he boasted were not made entirely with paint. As she exchanged words with the colorful wizard, she ignored the loud whispers of a pair of fresh graduates in trendy clothing.

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Title reference

Felix had limited time before his daughter was home again. That meant that he had to enjoy himself while he could before the moody teenager was roaring under his roof. Maybe they needed a trip to the Mediterranean... somewhere they could try and relax with each other but not have to speak to one another.

That sounded fantastic. The issue, however, was not a lack of desire, but a lack of helpers while they were away. Work was life and everything else merely waited for it to be done to be enjoyed. Like tonight.

A young thing had been bugging him for the past couple of weeks to go on an actual date. She was mid twenties, cute as a bug, had the most amazing pair of - well. Felix couldn’t keep disappointing her, and so he’d invited her to dinner. It was a decent conduit, for fleshing out the other important parts of a person over food and drink. If it was an early evening date, that just meant to convey how much of a gentleman he really could be.

If only she hadn’t been as interesting as a two-by-four. Even Felix got tired of staring after a while. At least the food was amazing and the martinis hit the spot. After being a good sport, Felix paid the bill and helped the girl up. Maybe, at the very least, he could get a little fun out of the evening. He worked the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows on both sides before wrapping an arm around her, hand resting on her hip.

They walked slowly down the Alley while Felix pretended to listen, glancing amongst the crowd as they wandered.

Violet continued to discuss painting materials with the artist— who cheerfully went on about the deals he was willing to give the lady— while also watching the horde that filtered slowly through the streets. Increasingly she grew unamused with the wizard’s sales pitch, and her cold fingers trailed past his booth as her eyes followed people. While it was very easy not to notice the dull ones in such large crowds, the interesting ones stood out all the more against a bland background. Violet’s eyes had long ago adjusted to the night, to the moon, the lack of stars of over the city, to the artificial lights and the magicked ones. She had an eye for this game.

She moved on to the next stall, a showcase of easily-dismissed carvings, but did not linger. It seemed that each vendor would become more tedious than the next. Just as she was peeling her gaze away from a charmed knickknack and thinking of heading toward a bar that made a habit of catering to the blood-thirsty members of society, a pair in the middle of the street caught her gaze. Violet observed placidly (not with the same gawking expression savvy teenage girls). The man was very good looking, well-dressed, and it was a sickle-flip whether he was actually listening to his date. The woman was beautiful in a cute way, but it was the man with his sleeves pushed back like that who really kept her attention.

Violet turned back to the stalls, deciding the night was young and that she had plenty of time to make it to her favorite haunt. Most of the people in her office eschewed street vendors (and she could not blame them entirely), but sometimes there were gems among that rubbish. The next one showcased antique books, mostly spells and history, and Violet gingerly flipped open the the cover a dusty emerald hardback before glancing over her shoulder, eyes falling on the man again.

In some stroke of comical luck, the tall wizard suddenly steered his buxom date toward the vendors… and toward Violet. It seemed his interest had been piqued by the loud artwork in the next stall over. The date looked more confused than interested. Violet turned back to the book, eyes perusing the title page, but her ears were on the couple. She was genuinely interested in the book, but also made room for an inner eye-roll (the kind that bordered on sharp laughter) at the girl’s proclamation that she though they were going to a club. The vampire's finger trailed down the old text, fingernail painted the dark color of blood when it bloomed under dim lighting. She tilted her head toward the couple, eyes fixing candidly upon the girl. She looked back to the book. “I’m sure your date could fit it in his pocket before he pays the cover charge.” She caught the girl’s eyes in a very brief look before gesturing with a sharp nod toward a large canvas that had to be nearly half the girl’s height. Then her eyes fell on the wizard, and she offered a hint of a smile. She looked back to the vendor of her own stall. "How much for this one?" Her hand was still on the emerald book.

Inside Felix’s head, he was groaning and holding his head in his hands. Outwardly, he was looking over the crowd as the girl pulled him steadily towards a club. There were nights where he went to them; that was where they had met, after all. She was still in that age range that enjoyed loud music, dark rooms with strobe lights, and busy hands and bodies that moved with the dropped beat.

To be honest, it gave him a headache after a while. Combined with alcohol, and it was a nasty hangover waiting to happen. Still... he glanced back to her, eyes taking in the top of her dress, and he smirked. It was worth it. He’d just take a potion and a greasy breakfast to make it all better tomorrow.

Eyes continued to wander, taking in the street vendors. Then Felix saw something rather bold and colorful, and it drew him to it. His hand drifted across her back before taking her hand, pulling her towards him as he stepped away from one crowd towards another. When she protested, he glanced back and pursed his lips slightly. He nearly reprimanded her before thinking better of it, instead letting her pout as he stepped up to the art booth.

Felix wasn’t yet ready to get crushed in the club. He cleared his throat and frowned as he looked over the art, not even sparing his date a look. “We will. They haven’t even started the music yet.” Probably. He could almost feel the pout.

Another woman’s voice had Felix turning his attention to her. He was about to tell her to mind her own business when he saw her face. Eyebrow rose while he took her in, appreciating, before smirking and looking back up in time to catch her eye. The vendor of the stall he stood in front of started to list a bunch of reasons why his work was the best. At the same time, the girl tugged on his hand and nearly whined about wanting to go to the club.

He was done. He let go of her hand and held both of his up, showing them palm first to the girl. “Then go.” And then Felix turned his back to her and stared at the artwork, motioning to one of them. “What is it made out of?” He had dismissed the girl; it wasn’t his fault if she had no patience.

Violet couldn’t decide for a moment whether the argument unraveling was primarily because they were both young (at least emotionally in spirit, despite the obvious age difference) or because the man’s wearisome adult side was showing. Both, probably. A man with eyes bigger than his stomach… or hands with more patience and optimism than his mind. It was amazing, what good lingerie could do to the world.

She whined with all of the appeal of a puppy (who had been poured into her dress), but the man seemed to be having none of it. Violet couldn’t blame him for not wanting to give up the cool evening air. Especially with his sleeves rolled up like that…

When they caught each other’s eye, she seemed not to mind the appraisal. She had initiated it. Some people could get away with far more than others. It did not take someone over a hundred years old to figure out that this man was one of them. Even if the pouting creature behind him begged to differ. The club was apparently the end game for her life goals. He had bagged a winner. Violet’s smile widened a little as her indignation became louder.

The man had had enough. He let her go and was met with a huff that earned more than just the vendor’s and vampire’s attention… though Violet’s eyes were still firmly on the book. She laughed silently to herself as he ignored his (now former) date and asked after the art; her own attention was seemingly on the price of her intended purchase. As she pulled out money, she listened to the salesman boast of a rare paint tinged with dragon’s blood. “The artist must have been in a jubilant mood.” She glanced at the painting, and then her eyes shifted to the side, vaguely toward the offended ex-date in her peripheral. There was a private delight in the descriptor in that particular moment, a hint of it in the sarcasm that left her tongue.

She had not missed the burns on his arms. Nor the tattoo— which fit him nicely. It seemed Violet had a penchant for conversing with dragon handlers lately. “Maybe you have an eye for it?” She asked, handing over galleons for her own find, and still calmly ignoring the young woman behind them. “Their blood.” The vendor of her stall began to wrap the book carefully, and Violet turned more properly toward the man. “Certainly not reasonable dates."

Felix winced slightly when the salesman mentioned adding dragon’s blood to the paint. He pursed his lips and shifted on his feet, arms crossing over his chest as he considered. Hearing the words from the woman next to him (over the disbelief from the woman behind him) caused him to look at her with a slightly different light. He still appreciated her form, of course. Felix smirked and raised an eyebrow.

Her playful stab at his choices made him laugh; it was always a coin toss as to whether he would take offense to criticism or not. “I prefer not dealing in dragon’s blood. Or other illegal parts of dragons.” He gave the man behind the stall a look, happy inside to see the man cringe and fidget a little, before turning his attention back to the fair skinned (and haired) woman. “I do have an eye for beauty.” The girl scoffed and huffed behind him before she reached out and tapped him on the shoulder.

Felix glanced over his shoulder and frowned at the girl. “I’m done speaking with you, go on.” Honestly... sometimes, he didn’t understand women. The girl let out a shrill, short lived scream before turning on her heels and nearly stomping off. He glanced at the spot he could’ve had a watch and raised his eyebrows. “Look at the time. You look like you could use a drink.” He grinned and looked at the woman who had just made a purchase.

“Unless you’re interested in dragon blood paintings. It’s very flammable, though, so I’d be careful.” A hand rested at his side as the other snuck into his trouser pocket. Felix adopted an easy stance as he waited, a cocky smile on his face as he eyed the woman.

“Law-abiding,” she observed, her tone subtly curious.

She wasn’t sure whether she was surprised by his answer, and that interested her. But if his dragon practices were clean, his fragile way of rejecting dates was its own plateau. Violet’s stare became almost lazy as the wizard explained his talented eye, her own eyes remaining fixed on him even as he turned to deal with the presently-much-more-attention-commanding mess he’d just made. While Violet could not claim to have seen this exact scene fold out before (the man was gusty, or stupid), she knew what young angry people looked like.

“I’m done speaking with you, go on.”

The vampire engaged herself with putting away the book (she hadn’t a wand, but charmed bags still did the trick). She appeared bored or unaware for a moment, but she was neither. The shriek of young, would-be love, now broken and banshee-esque, dissolved acidly in the air and the girl stomped off to find someone better suited to her interests. Not that the man looked like he had never set foot into a club.

If Violet looked down to find his invisible watch, it was less than eye’s blink of time. Her gaze remained mostly trained on his face.

He was not just gutsy, he had a set.

The younger woman was hardly out of earshot before the man began the process of replacing her for a new drinking companion. Violet did not seem to show too much surprise, but it was not an everyday occurrence. There was certainly something in the lift of her brow. “It’s a little early for me.” It was true at that exact moment, but Violet did not abstain from… drinks... simply because it was so close to sunset. She had had a glass before she’d left her house, while waiting for said sun to dip in the sky. “But I would prefer it to being arrested for purchasing illegal art.” Her voice seemed to raise a fraction, for the benefit of the salesman, who, in her peripheral, seemed to swallow hard. Whether his bold claims were true, he seemed to be thinking twice about his sales pitch, murmuring to himself. In truth, Violet Islington really did not need to be arrested.

She stepped away, closer to the wizard. “Flammable isn’t my taste.” There was another hint of a smile— still close-lipped, as she was not in the habit of being charitable with her true grins, canine teeth and all— and something agreeable, if unsaid. “There’s a place up the road that makes a drink I like.”

Then she looked into the crowd, straight ahead as she began to walk. She moved slowly, enough so that they could amble and talk, carving out her path without really looking at the people who needed to move out of the way. “With luck it won’t be the same place your date stomped off to.” She was sure they both knew that it wouldn’t be. It was not a club, but Violet wasn’t sure either of them were the worrying sort. She did not particularly care what his past with the huffy woman had been. And yet, his shamelessness interested her.

The crowd became a bit more manageable as they moved past the bulk of the booths. The sign of the bar was visible, but Violet neither rushed nor stalled. “So, what exactly do you do with dragons if you aren’t bleeding them in the name of art or medicine? You don’t work for the Ministry…” It was a guess as much as a question. But then they could be a surprisingly diverse bunch. At times.

When it came to his livelihood, Felix was by the letter. He had his ranch to keep up; if he fell to the dark sides of dragon taming, offering up parts of those he said he protected, then his business would falter. It was more about pride than a desire to abide by the law... he had his own history to show what he thought about the law. He merely smirked at the woman’s comment, a half shrug answering her.

Felix liked people to talk about his ranch and dragons he cared for with an air of awe. He bought his dragon hide from well-reputed sources, and tried to keep as organic a lifestyle as possible. What he did in his free time (what little free time he had) was his to squander about. Dates and hook ups with all ages and walks of life, it felt like his way to let go a little. Perhaps it also was why he put dragons above most women he dated.

Sometimes work went above his own daughter, truth be told.

A little early for her. Felix merely smirked and shrugged; it was no skin off his back. It just meant he’d have to go somewhere and put in the effort elsewhere. “It’s five o’clock somewhere, love.” There was something about her... when she seemed to reprimand the artist without acknowledging him, that only made Felix more interested in her. There weren’t many people who could make others squirm with so few words.

When she came closer, Felix once again glanced over her; it wasn’t often that a woman neared his height. With her frame, however, it fit. “So it’s not so early for you, then.” Sometimes it was easier to just state the obvious and get it out of the way. He smirked and turned with her, leaving the artist behind to stutter his way through selling his art to the next person who happened upon it.

“I suppose we’ll see what the evening has in store.” If the girl showed up at a bar, Felix would be shocked. It wasn’t often he let himself be shocked. Felix laughed easily and moved unhurriedly next to her; she knew where they were going, after all. One hand remained in his pocket while the other wove through the air. “I’m a private dragon keeper; I have a place in the Alps. I occasionally work with the Ministry, but they have a lot of red tape that can frustrate such a law-abiding Keeper.”

He glanced to his side, smirking at her. “And besides creeping on other, what does the beautiful book enthusiast do?”

The old adage was true. She would give him that. But Violet’s humored look had also to do with the fact that five o’clock anywhere was almost assuredly too bright for her.

“Oh, no, it is early,” she reiterated, with minimal emphasis, even as she began to move. “But it’s also my day off.” Her voice seemed to say, between the lines, that this meant she could do what she pleased.

“I suppose we’ll see what the evening has in store.”

Wouldn’t they. Even if his date was not to be seen again, Violet would soon learn how dark a drink he could stomach. To look at. Someone who worked with dragons could hardly afford to be squeamish, though. “That sounds lucrative." Whatever self-assured expressions he wore (and wore well), his eyes were an uncommon shade, charming. She looked ahead again, could see light flooding warmly from lamps outside of the bar. “But since the pay can’t possibly outweigh the risks, you do it for another reason.”

Violet agreed with him about the Ministry. Red tape was sometimes putting it mildly. But she had done her best to carve out her place, and was luckier than many.

Creeping? She looked to him, eyes locking relaxedly on his again, meeting his glance. “I’m the editrix-in-chief of Runwitch Magazine,” she said, as they approached the door. “A different sort of dragon.”

Violet pulled the bar door open and glided inside. It was dark, but not damp or dodgy. The floor and bar were made of handsome woods that befit its old age. Patrons, regulars and those just out for a night in wizarding London, dotted tables and barstools, conversing amongst themselves to create a warm buzz of sound. She led the way to two empty seats at the bar, and then began to remove her cloak to reveal a simple dark, sleeveless dress beneath. The bartender offered a friendly nod to let them as he topped off drinks for another pair of customers, and then approached.

‘Your usual, Madam?’

“Yes.” She sat down and looked to her knew drinking companion, waiting for him to place his order.

Days off... Felix smirked a little, assessing her once again as he considered what she might do. He had worked earlier that day, but it hadn’t been an overworked day of labor. The hired help he had been able to implement in the last year had drastically reduced how much he had to do. It let him focus on the bills and actual running of the business. That didn’t negate the responsibilities of making sure the stalls were clean and the dragons fed, of course, but at least if it wasn’t done, he could yell at someone about it.

With work, he was a bit of a perfectionist. He liked everything a certain way. His personal life, on the other hand, was all sorts of a mess. Felix was already forgetting the girls name from earlier. Trisha? Alyssa? It didn’t matter anymore, to be honest.

“You do have to enjoy those when they come.”

He merely smirked; lucrative was not necessarily the word he would’ve used. After years, it was finally starting to give back a lot more than it had at first. Bankruptcy had been a real threat in the beginning. What good was life, though, without a bit of uncertainty in it? He’d thrown everything into the place, built it nearly from the ground up, and now... now he was comfortable. He could afford a nice suit now and again. He wasn’t swimming in cash, however, no matter what his daughter might think.

“There’s adventure in dragon keeping, love.” She hadn’t stopped him for calling her that before, and so he was going to keep on with it. It was particularly helpful to use intimate nicknames when actual names escaped him. “Plus, dragons can’t talk back to you.” Not in the sense that a wounded teenager might, or a disgruntled employee. Felix did much better when he wasn’t forced to play nice with people for most of his day.

Editrix... that was a mouthful, wasn’t it? Made him think of a dominatrix... He wet his lips and chuckled. “That sounds like a lot of people pleasing. Runwitch... what sort of magazine is that?” Felix knew of very few magazines.

He followed behind her, glancing past her to take in the bar. Felix couldn’t recall if he’d been in here... but surely he had. He made enough jaunts around these sort of scenes that he would have had to, right? Then again... it was harder to pick up younger women in such establishments. It was too refined.

Felix assisted her with her cloak; the gentleman card could still work. He hung it up on a peg before taking the seat next to her, admiring the dress (and the woman in it) as he settled into it. Her usual? Felix was amused, now. He raised an eyebrow and considered his options, eyes glancing over the options on tap. He almost asked for the same, but he paused long enough to see one of his favorite bourbons on display.

A finger waggled at it. “Whiskey on the rocks.” That definitely seemed appropriate. Felix settled back and rested an arm on the back of her stool, leaning closer to her for conversation. “Madam. This place must be good enough to be a regular at.”

“There’s adventure in dragon keeping, love. […] Plus, dragons can’t talk back to you.”

“Do you encounter that problem often? People talking back to you.” Violet almost never encountered it at work— her employees knew better. But when she was getting her foot in the door of some Ministry business or being frank with society types at some midnight luncheon, things could get a bit wordier. Given this man’s way of handling dates… “It seems almost as if you must like it.”

She could take his words at face value, on the subject of adventure. Dragons were one way to fulfill that fantasy. Not Violet’s preferred choice, but she found the creatures beautiful, regal, and sometimes wise in ways people were not. They really seemed to illuminate the night, too, which the vampire could… appreciate.

“A fashion magazine.” The fashion magazine. But explaining it to people who did not follow fashion so religiously could be… tedious. And given that she found this one rather interesting at the moment, it was probably best not to linger. “You’re not our target audience, but I do recommend it.” He was well dressed. That counted. Keeping work and play separate for now was wisest. Too many people did not.

They settled in at the bar, and for a moment she was sure he was going to follow her lead… which would have been quite the surprise to him. She would have stopped it. Violet Islington was the hardly the spill-your-heart type, but she was also practical. She was not intentionally hiding the truth from the man... simply letting him figure it out himself. If he happened to ask, she would tell him, unabashedly. Violet was accustomed to this dance: normalizing her identity as much as she could (because she was a human, in a manner of speaking), but addressing it thoroughly before it could become too much of a problem. It was the best way to handle the media.

As far as dates went, some sought out her type. Distinguishing the interested from the dodgy fetishists could be surprisingly difficult, but she had not stuck with anyone long enough— not in decades— for it to be much of a problem.

His order was a solid choice, and said more about him than he probably could in one sentence. Violet had not found alcohol appealing in years (a century, almost, and given when she’d grown up, she had never had much more than the occasional glass of wine), but there was a certain correlation between one’s taste in alcohol and one’s taste overall.

“Violet,” she corrected him. She waited for him to return the favor. She was accustomed to people throwing around ‘Madam’ and ‘Miss,’ but the wizard buying her drinks was not the wizard pouring them. As for her drink: "I’m particular about what I like.” She raised a brow at him as her head tilted in his direction; it might have been a smirk. Her eyes did not wonder toward where his hand had settled.

Her drink arrived first, a dark, thick, but smooth brew, a fancied up version of the primary ingredient. Sometimes it tricked people, it was more ambiguous than one would have imagined. But most wizards who spent enough time in bars knew what it was. Violet’s hand curved gingerly around the glass, but she did not raise it for a sip. Instead she looked at him again, calmly. She was allowed a bit of fun, in her off time. “What of this week’s adventure with dragons? No red tape, I hope."

Felix thought of her question and chuckled, biting on his lower lip briefly. Gabriella aside... not often, he supposed. A more heartfelt laugh escaped and he watched her eyes for a moment. “Isn’t it fun to put people in their places?” Sometimes, anyway. It had been a long time since a woman had actually interested him beyond a short conversation and the bedroom. Even dinner with... whoever the girl was, that had been torture. She had no idea about the going on of politics in the Ministry, nor had she been interested.

He probably knew the names of wrockstars better than he knew the names of the girls who sprouted off about them.

Fashion magazine. Definitely not something Felix found interesting. A half smirk found its way to his lips. “Perhaps I’ll check it out.” He didn’t plan on it. But it was somewhat impressive, finding such a successful young woman while out and about Diagon Alley. Lucky Felix.

“Felix.” It seemed an appropriate return of favor. Violet... Hopefully he remembered it as the drinks wore on. Felix wasn’t always the best with names; faces, sure, for the most part, but names... they completely escaped him. Or they did if he didn’t try hard to remember them. There were so many other things to remember in life, why remember every girls name he encountered? That was like remembering every acquaintance he had ever met.

He felt good, and it was reflected in his smirk and relaxed manner. “It’s always nice to meet a woman who knows what she likes.” Sometimes. Sometimes it was a pain in the arse, especially if they were set in their ways and nag-y. Women were fickle creatures and had to be dealt with very delicately.

Felix looked over her drink for a moment, something nagging at him (hah) in the back of his head. He blinked as his drink was produced a moment later. He thanked the bartender absentmindedly as he picked his drink up, offering a friendly, quiet toast, before taking a sip. Her question almost made him roll his eyes, but he held it in and let the bourbon run over his tongue while he smirked.

“Are you really interested in talking about work?” He shifted a little, his arm staying behind her on her chair before he met her eyes. “Adventures with dragons... one of my hired help almost became a barbecued mess. I tell them the important thing is to run when you see them angry. Either he’ll learn or he won’t. I had a fairly new hatchling back at the start of fall, and now it’s wanting to play, so that can be exhausting.” His hand left the glass and scratched at the back of his neck.

“What about your week, love?" His hand found its way to her mid back, fingertips lightly caressing through the dress material, testing out boundaries. "And what sort of port are you drinking?”

“Isn’t it fun to put people in their places?”

“There’s a satisfaction in it.” But Violet felt it was well-earned. . Anyone who thought it was not a task, to be in charge of large of numbers of people, to be the person who approved things or was asked questions, constantly, would never last in such a role. This man, however, had all of the confidence of someone who settled quite nicely into letting people know exactly where they stood. Violet’s eyes roamed over him again. He had certainly had no qualms breaking things off with his… companion… in public. “It can get shockingly old sometimes… but only for a moment.” She smiled a little, again. Old. Unlike his date, who had been an abundance an youth.

“Perhaps I’ll check it out.”

“Of course you will.” Just like she would go gallivanting with dragons. In the daylight. She looked over his smirk briefly before ushering them both inside.

Felix. It suited him. And, likewise, it was nice to meet a man who made his intentions plain. She inclined her head in agreement. “I have had time to learn what I like.” Her expressions suggested that, though he seemed obvious and comfortable enough, he might not know what was good for him. But the even vampire could not claim to know that, one hundred percent of the time.

Violet met the toast with a very small, ginger bump of her glass— whose contents were not full to the brim, thankfully. She watched him sip his own drink, and if he had had any reservations about hers, it didn’t stop him from going on to answer her question. He still did not know.

“Work tells me more about someone than they probably would otherwise.” She held her glass at bay, in almost another gesture. "And occasionally, nothing at all.” But the interesting tales of dragons could not beat what an interesting night this one could be. “And I do find dragons interesting, yes. If also to be treated... cautiously.” Violet was more accustomed to wearing their hide than dodging their flames, and she planned to keep it that way. The vampire admiring from a far was the wisest option for all parties. “Your hired help have wands,” she pointed out, reasonably. “Do they not use them?”

The idea of dragons going through an attention-seeking puppy phase was both comical and unsurprising. Regulation had a way of stripping nature from things, of further dehumanizing the non-human. But dragons were like any other creature, hardly monsters of their own volition.“You sound like a tired father. I’m sure you’ll manage.” They could not be more exhausting than the human breed of hatchling. But she could see the man, with his rolled back sleeves, playing with one. A dragon, that was.

The hand on her back was met with calm poise, though inwardly there was some… defrosting in it. It had been a while since anyone’s fingers had warmed the cold pale skin just beyond the clothing. The blood would help, too.

But he sweet-and-vague moniker that proceeded it was something else. He had no doubt used it earlier in the evening, for another such love. Violet did not correct him again, but let the prolonged silence— only a second— speak for her. Then she answered his questions. “My week was packed with people who have no idea what they’re doing, and some who do but still haven’t mastered how to function as adults.” It was less detailed than his answer, and yet there seemed to be similarities in their positions. Managing people was laborious in its own way. “Last night a shipment of priceless prototypes was lost in the Floo Network, which I prefer not to use for samples, and the intern who had to track it down... I’m sure never wants to see a bowl of green powder again. But we did find the dresses before dawn and everyone managed to go home and sleep. No barbecues, either.”

And then, she raised a brow, and her smile became a bit less guarded than it had been, a modest flash of teeth (though not enough to serve as an elaboration). “Blood. So, not a port.” She paused long enough to let him consider this, and then added, more bluntly, “Vampires don't see the appeal in alcohol as much as you might."

For looking like she’d barely seen her twenties, the woman had a surprisingly old soul about her. Felix smirked and nodded his head, briefly, a quiet admission of agreement. It could get old to always be the top dog. But he also rather enjoyed it. It was a constant catch twenty-two. He wasn’t sure if he would accept a lifetime of not being bossy if his daughter just listened to everything he said. That was his biggest issue, after all. Troublesome teenagers.

Surely he hadn’t been that bad.

Fingers rubbed together on one hand as he considered the cryptic message of her words, eyes narrowing momentarily before eyebrows bounced. “Time is a patient teacher.” And at times, life was the never-ending demon, wrecking havoc with what time you had. Perhaps that was one reason he preferred to move through women; it didn’t do to let time play with your emotions while life dangled dangerous obstacles in your path.

“You are wiser than most interns who put an application in, then.” Dragons were not just some magical and beautiful beast with the classification system of five too many X’s. Often times it was difficult to explain that to an eager young man (or occasional woman) who just wanted to play with fire. Felix, at one time, had been such an eager young spirit.

An appreciative chuckle escaped before he shrugged. “It’s sometimes difficult to remember what you can and cannot use when under fire.” Pardon the pun. “Most spells are fairly useless against dragons.” Charms help contain, yes, and boundaries spells were essential. But they had to be constantly mended and recast, as the dragons were hard to keep under lock and key. Felix had no desire to have one bust out of a cage while muggles roamed near his ranch.

He shifted just slightly at the mention of being a tired father. With Gabby at Hogwarts, he actually had slept better than usual, which meant upwards to 5 or 6 hours of sleep on his off days. If the sleeping potion worked. “I always do.”

Felix missed the quiet, subtle dislike for his moniker. It was just as well; he was not the greatest with names, after all. He did focus on her story, however, eyes following along as he laughed when he should and shaking his head in feigned understanding. “Sounds like late hours.”

Blood.

His lips twitched; they threatened to slip into a disbelieving smile. Eyes darted to the glass, staring at it for a moment, finally coming back up to her face. If it was blood (and why would she lie?), then it was a good thing he had ordered something not so copper flavored. His tongue wet his lips as he let more of her words settle into his brain.

Vampire. That was more descriptive.

His arm stayed where it was, though his hand stopped caressing her back as he considered. The glass of whiskey was tilted one way and then another before Felix finally took another small sip. That was definitely a new one for him. “There is a great appeal for me. For alcohol.” He smirked and set the glass down, staring at it briefly before meeting her gaze. “If you don’t mind me asking such a rude question...” Because he really cared. “How old are you?” His hand came up, palm out to her, defensively. “Because you look amazing.”

“I’m also older than most interns who put an application in,” she guessed, acknowledging the truth in his comment about time. She wondered, though, how much time it had taken to teach this man that it was easiest to cut his losses and move on to the next eligible date. Assuming Violet was available (a safe bet, for those who knew her), or that the wizard still had intentions when he learned the truth. But casual encounters between adults could bring out all sorts of hidden interests.

She could understand. Even if she had not had magic in years… not the sort of magic she craved, from time to time, she knew exactly what he meant. The human elements of fear, the instinct to flee and survive… those were things that still resonated with her, though perhaps not as strongly as they once had. If Violet had thought to use magic to ward off the curious thing outside of the observatory the night she’d been bitten, perhaps she… wouldn’t be sitting here now. There was an upside to those stupid instincts. (For men, maybe it did mean not getting burned.) A small smile returned to her lips. He did look as if he managed, in whatever way fit, tattooed dragon handlers in nice shirts did.

“I find nights more accommodating. Do you work from dawn to dusk?” The drawback of good-looking men in bars.

Violet did not know what to expect. She wasn’t a Seer. Time and experience had given her a general idea of what most people thought of vampires (as if newspapers and local government meetings were not enough). Telling someone on a more personal level always drew… varied responses. For which she was grateful, but it also contributed to her tendency to enjoy alone time. Survival meant discretion.

She was acutely aware of his hand stopping, the look of consideration, his mouth, the minute details of his movements. She had luckily developed a thick skin, even as her appearance remained exactly the same. But Violet could not deny that his sudden smirk and the question that followed pleased her. Her own stare, which had swept back and forth over his face slowly, seemed to take on something lighter. “I’m 122,” she answered calmly, bringing her own glass closer, letting it slide slowly against the smooth wood now that her new… friend… knew her preferred drink. "I was bitten at 26,” she added, assuming he might want a more specific answer there. She raised the glass to her lips, pausing only to gesture toward him. “I take it you’ve never bought a drink for someone older than thirty.” She took a modest sip. As she drew the glass away, there was no blood on her lips or the corners of her mouth, but her smile was a little more revealing now, the pointy edges of fangs visible beneath her top lip. Would he challenge her there? Maybe the cute, clubbing witch had been a fluke. Violet did not think so. “It’s all in the diet, really.”