The fuck-up in Melbourne had left Landon and his team no choice but to flee and lay low for a couple of months. They weren't quite in any danger of being identified, but they could never take the risk to remain in Australia. Mag had decided their locations and safe-houses, and although she advised Landon to keep away from Britain for at least two more years... Well. Sugar had not much of a say with him really.

Barely a few days back in Britain, Landon had spent them all catching up on some well-deserved sleep, but now he was ready to go out and actually see what had changed since two years ago. So Landon stumbled through noisy Diagon Alley in search of the first pub.

He could've gone home... Right about now his maw maw would be waiting with beignets and cafe au lait. But he'd just been in February for Mardi Gras and, fortunately, his Nanan hadn't managed to introduce him to that nice belle from Baton Rouge. But he wasn't so sure fortune would be on his side this time... And London, tho rather butt-ugly and kind of medieval, had showed him a good time when he'd last been here.

"Bonjour, y'all" he greeted with a cool smile, lifting his sunglasses to rest on top of his head and placed his backpack on a bar stool. "No chance of a Bud, am I right?" he asked the bartender with a curious expression, hopping on the stool right next. "A'ight then" he laughed, raising his hands in apology, seeing the face the guy had made at his question. "A beer—whatever he's having" he smiled and tipped his chin at the the other guy. "And yer crapper, if ye could be kind?"

His beer was waiting for him on the bar and he let out a long, pleased smile. "Ça va" he addressed the man next to him, accent thick and a big welcoming smile on his face. Raising his bottle he inclined it towards the stranger and took a long swig. "Well, I wasn't expecting a craft brewery but this tastes like ass" he scowled and swallowed a few times. "And not the good sort, either" he added softer, snorting in the glass.

Rick barely noticed the newcomer, although he had, because hearing wasn’t something you just turned off even when you wanted to.

(Old people. Sometimes they had it so easy.)

While the day hadn’t been particularly crappy (since it was, technically, one of his days off), it had, nevertheless, sucked; although he hadn’t had to work in the shop (which was usually the main reason behind the stick up his own ass, something he readily admitted to), he did have to meet with a client. One of more irritating ones, in fact. Despite having been told over and over again why they couldn’t go with his blueprint, the man had still insisted—going so far as to become a supercilious dick about, despite having contracted Rick– a professional– in the first place.

It wasn’t even the first time. Or the second. Or, hell, even the fifth. And so Rick had gotten in his face (–so close, in fact, he could smell the cheap wine in his breath and the familiar, spicy spike of arousal), growled at him to shut the hell up, and then thrown the man out of the shop, along with his precious blueprint – and by extension, the commission – with him.

At least he could afford the loss in business. But the failure in his own temper had been enough for him to call it a day.

And so here he was now, a little ways down the bar, near the middle, the bartender, but not quite—alone with a beer, because apparently he was a cliche, but the fun thing about being one was that he never tried, and so didn’t care. Leon, of course, was better at cheering him up, but the younger man was busy today, too. At least one of them should have a good day.

The newcomer, though, seemed intent on the seat beside him, as well conversation. Rick contemplated a sigh, then decided against it; he could use some, anyway. “Sorry,” he smirked, a little mirthlessly but mostly amused. “I order the better stuff when I’ve got company.”

Throwing the man a sideglance, Landon huffed in his glass and eyed the amber liquid skeptically. "The beer or the ass?" he couldn't help comment around a snort, almot absently, raising his shoulders in a come what may gesture and taking another mouthful of the disgusting beer. Landon honestly couldn't tell why everybody seemed to sing praises to European beer, even if that was more Czech and German than British. And as if barely just realizing the lack of an accent from the other man, he turned and blinked at him, tilting his head and humming a soft huh.

"What do ye make of this European beer?" he asked, eyebrows drawn at the middle followed by a beleagured sigh. "I'm not saying I miss my uncle's moonshine—that's just asking for sweet death to come" he snorted and shook his head fondly. "But an Abita Bourbon Street Stout? Now that's true NOLA beer" he huffed, grimacing at the glass in front of him. Turning his head to give a the man a closer analyzing look, his lips pursed in thought and out of nowhere he gave a fervent nod.

"Gone native, have ye?" he asked, bright toothy grin and a little wink. "Can't say I blame you... Their women may leave somethign to be desired, but still there's some nice pieces of ass walking 'round London" he chuckled lightly and wagged his eyebrows just a bit.

Lips twitched more into a proper grin at the man’s retort – grimace included – before settling into something more amused than not. The beer would be offensive to those with finer palates. Lucky for him, then, that his own was something he could ignore. “That’s hardly fair,” he grinned regardless, brows twitching upwards in amusement. NOLA brewing played a hard game for others to compete in—but leave it to a native (who was obviously a native, if that accent was any indicator) to verbalize the sentiment.

As for ass, though… Rick had to snort then, a soft huff that nevertheless brought the grin back into a smirk, one small but knowing. Oh, did he ever. “Can’t disagree with you there,” his head dipped in acknowledgment, as pleasant– recent– memories welled to the surface. Still, he had to slant the man beside him a wry smile, facing him again with a slight shake of his head. “Dunno who you’ve been meeting though.” The smile deepened, going so far as to flash a bit of teeth– which, ever since his turning, had always been a bit longer than that of others, making the look of them a wolfish one. “The women are just fine.” Better than fine, actually.

He was on good terms with too many of them not to think so, after all. And all of them would kick his ass if he did—Amherst, Dora, Laney, all of them.

As much as he was an ass on a good day, though, kiss ‘n tell wasn’t something he did, and so Rick shook his head again, as if to shake off the thought of them before Landon could catch their names from the top of his head. But the smile lingered. “Came here for other reasons, I take it?” He made a vague, expansive gesture with his beer, to indicate the country rather than just the pub, before bringing it back to his lips.

"Nothing's quite fair in love and alcohol" he said with a bright grin and tilted his head to arch an eyebrow, as if questioning whether he was of a different opinion. "But with all these pubs around you'd think they'd at least make some decent stout" he added with a huff.

"Well then, you'll have to introduce me to some" he replied, raising his glass with a bright toothy grin to equal the other man's. "Last time I was here I was on business and didn't have much time to... sample the market" he said a bit wistfully, thinking of one particular young man that had occupied most of his little free time back then. He chuckled a little and shook his head. "I was here for a few months a couple of years back and a couple of other times, shorter, but always on business. Didn't get to meet to many people" he explained, squinting at his beer and deciding to just be done with it.

So he threw his head back and drank half a beer in a few swoops, placing it back on the bar with a grunt and a grimace. "Jack, neat, please" he then said to the bartender, still reeling in from the god awful taste. "Well, that was shit" he said with a snort and turned with an amused expression at the guy. "I'm Landon, by the way" he inclined his head and smirked at nothing in particular. "And for the first time I'm in England for pleasure. Got anything to recommend?" he grinned and wagged his eyebrows.

Oblivious of that young man’s identity on which much of Landon’s thoughts seemed to dwell, Rick laughed then, the sound startled and bright even as it shot low, before features pulled into a near grimace of sympathy. He knew all about being short on time – as well as crap drinks, although admittedly one could say he had a pretty tolerant palate despite a honed sense of taste – especially when work didn’t leave you much to begin with. He hadn’t been as hung up on the loss of sex as the fellow next to him, but it had been annoying.

Luckily for him it wasn’t much of an issue anymore—not since he had made his way back to London, finding his feet and setting down some roots. Since he had carved out a place for himself here, things had fallen into place after that, allowing him to work around his gradually filling schedule. Falling into a steady relationship? Hadn’t changed things a whit.

(If anything, it had only made things better. Thinking about how seamlessly they had fitted into each other’s lives, though, in so short a time—he’d save that for another time.)

Rick cocked the man– Landon, the guy had said –a considering look, though it hardly lasted more than a blink; the next second, Rick’s mouth tugged into a grin, practically a smirk but friendly. Normally he kept his first name close, to better ignore people, but– “Rick,” he grinned, returning the nod with one of his own, and he took a sip of his beer, thoughtful-like, before replying.

What to recommend? For all its fame and fog – not to mention his own fondness for the city – the werewolf couldn’t deny that much of its charms didn’t lie in itself so much as the people who could be found within it. Aside from a crossroad of commercial centres, a hospital, and a handful of pubs between them, there wasn’t much else going for it, wizarding-wise. Le M, of course, was a diamond in the rough (even if its theme parties were the bane of his existence), but ever since Arianne took over the werewolf wasn’t sure if the club had gone public enough to talk about it to just anyone. He’d have to ask.

“Well…” Rolling the bottle between his fingers, Rick mulled it over. “The other pubs around here are the Sword and Chant, the Leaky Cauldron, and the Moke and Merrow,” an odd little establishment known for shrinking out of sight when it was bought out for the evening. “Rover’s here is another, though I guess we both know your feelings about it now–” He shot Landon a sly, quiet grin, before clearing it away with a slight shake of his head. “But it’s still pretty popular, among the locals—all sorts like to come here. For the ambiance.” His tone lilted on a faint, almost mystified note; Rick scratched his chin, though he looked none too fussed about it and shrugged. “I come here because the owner’s a friend.

“Calaveras is another, but has a different shtick going for it—speakeasy, dance hall.” Another shrug. It wasn’t really his thing. CeeCee, though… “Spellpunk–”

A quick look of distaste flitted across sharp features, lip curling ever so slightly. “Emphasis on punk. Kiddie club. Unless, of course…”

As he took another sip, Rick raised his brows at Landon minutely—a tiny, lazy, asshole grin twitching at a corner of his lips.

The man, attractive in a tall, dark and handsome way he knew half his sisters would swoon over, didn't seem to share much of his own problems. Although, if he may say so, he appeared rather hard to approach. Must've been the eyebrows... It wasn't to say Landon didn't think himself attractive, because he sure knew he was and used it well whenever in need of company. But one needed some time to woo a person. Which he didn't have.

He received the man's own name with a grin of his own, turning seamlessly into a pleased smirk as he inclined his head in greeting. "Enchanté" he said, words rolling of the tip of his tongue with the ease of someone that had spent their life flitting in and out of the French Quarter. Rick, he wanted what is was short for... People with shortened nicknames usually had a reason for not sharing them in the first place. He frowned slightly, thinking of his baby sister and her vile repulsion towards her own name. Even if it was a beautiful creole name passed down in the family for generations. That was probably, actually the problem... Girls.

Landon waited for the man's reply with a hand on his glass, one finger tracing the bitter-sweet whiskeyed edge of it absently. "I stayed at the Cauldron until this morning, actually. Can't say I much enjoyed the... diversity" his lips pulled different directions in a disgusted sort of scowl. He'd never seen quite so many ugly people in one place at a time. And at breakfast too... Plus their pea soup was one of the most baffling experiences he'd ever had relating to food. Never again. He nodded at the other recommendations, gaze pensive as he committed them to memory. "Yes, the ambiance is lovely" he dead-panned, blinking once, because what he had seen of it so far and they're beverages on offer had left him unimpressed. His lips moulded around an o as he heard the owner was a friend, and he could only hope he wasn't around now.

His eyes brightened as the next recommendation came, an easy smile taking its place on his face. Now that seemed right up his alley, and he quirked his eyebrows in a questioning way, demanding more information, because that one he really must visit. He missed home, and he'd do anything for a bit of home, even id thousands of miles away. His eyebrows pulled down into a frown as he noticed Rick's quickly changing expression. The frown only deepened as his words connected and suddenly he was transported back to that one time in Cabo... No, good lord, no. His face was a complicated mix of revulsion and pure fear, and he swallowed thickly, grimacing as if in a jokingly passing manner as he nodded his refusal.

"Nah, I think I'll pass" he barely managed, words strained and voice hilariously high. "No kiddie establishments for me, thanks" he continued in slightly milder tone, still looking like the sky had just fallen. Rick's shit-eating grin was not lost on him and for a moment Landon felt he was back home being mercilessly teased with and messed with by Ada and the urge to stick his tongue out was almost overpowering. He pursed his lips instead and lazily arched one eyebrow, the implied comment about Rick's maturity written all across his face.

"That seems more my baby sister's thing than mine" he said instead, taking a sip of his glass and hissing as the divine amber liquid hit the back of tongue. "I'll be sure to take her there when she visits" he said almost wistfully ad maybe just a little saddened. In his  fourteen years away from home, he'd never once allowed his family to know anything about his whereabouts, never mind actually let them visit. But maybe now it would be different...

"So Rick, my friend, what bring you here in the middle of the day?" he asked conversationally, not actually intending to pry. Landon, at least, had the excuse of being on vacation, so he could drink in the middle of the day with no remorse. Rick, on the other hand...