---

Sunday, 11am



Working on Sundays should be illegal when necessary, Gabrielle Murray had mused inside her head as she exited out from the Ministry, intending to enjoy a caffeinated beverage along side a brunch. Rover's didn't sound all too good today even as she enjoyed the traditional Irish breakfasts that Rufus[1]  offered on Sundays. Sword and Chant wasn't going to cut it nor the the mystique of Calaveras. That narrowed the selection process quite considerably and so, Gabrielle stood looking about until the scent of cinnamon filled her nostrils. A hungry, longing sigh escaped her lips - where was that delectable smell coming from exactly?! Following it down the street, the scent landed her eventually at Alohomocha's doorstep. The witch had overheard once, maybe twice on the lifts at the Minstry about this place and well, this long lasting fragrance was going to get Alohomocha business.

Entering the establishment, Gabrielle took in the sights, scents and sounds inside. It was bustling with various patrons while the distinct textures of coffee, tea, pastries, sandwiches filled up the room. Mmn, was all Gabrielle could think up inside her brain. Moving towards the counter, her eyes gazed at the various food items before taking a nod, approaching the register. "I would like a ham and swiss croissant, a cinnamon bun and cafe latte, easy on the foam," she dictated before pulling out the necessary coins to pay for the meal and handed it over to the cashier. "Do keep the change, please." The cashier nodded their head, pleased with the tip for the establishment, then instructed for Gabrielle to take a seat and they'd bring her the meal once it was finished. Another thanks given, she headed to a two person table, sitting down and began to read from the Prophet that had been left behind by the last patron.

1.	Delacroix, that is~

Flynn had just finished a twelve hour shift at St. Mungos, and was in dire need of a caffeine boost, especially if he had any hope of taking dear little Henry for a walk or working on his research. Clad in his green healer robes, his shaggy hair, dark  circles under his eyes,  and stubbly face gave the appearance of someone who had been awake for far too long. And to be honest, he had been. While Flynn had always been someone who could function on as little as three hours of sleep in a night, this was a little much. His sisters and his mother were the same way, so considered it to be a family trait from the good ol’ Novák/ Nováková side of the family.

He entered his favorite coffee shop. Their coffee was far superior to the stuff that his uncle served at his bakery, though their specialty was pastries and the like, not caffeine. Flynn ordered a croissant and a cup of black coffee and looked around for a place to sit. There were plenty of seats open, but his eyes rested upon a familiar face—one that had never seen here before!

Flynn slid down in the seat across from Gabrielle, grinning widely. “Well, well!” He exclaimed, “If it isn’t my dear cousin’s lady love!” He was, very genuinely, pleased to see her. And he also held the controversial opinion that Francis was doing the right thing by seeing her.

“If it isn’t my dear cousin’s lady love!”

Gabrielle was in mid-sentence, now frozen in place from the voice proclaiming her relationship status. Pulling the Prophet down slowly with a rose coloured blush to her cheeks, Gabrielle looked onward in slight horror until she realised it was only Flynn and not some other relative she had to meet just yet. The horror melted away into a raised eyebrow, her glance almost harkening to McGonagall disapproving stare. "Now, now, if you intend to call me that, good sir, expect me then to call you Mr. Hughes, hm?" she quipped, the stare holding for a good few minutes before becoming a slowly relaxing smile. "It's good to see you, Flynn. Please. Feel free to sit across; wasn't expecting much company as it were."

She didn't know that Flynn, like his cousin Theta, approved of this relationship until now and well, the witch was grateful to have another individual backing their corner.

"How are you, anyhow, save the long, exhausting hours? The green looks excellent on you - it was always did on Grandfather[1]. Speaking of which, has he been behaving himself? One of the last times I inquired about his painting at St. Mungo's, he was being rather.... mischievous. It comes as no surprise if he's still being that way - he flirted with an intern once or twice when he was alive. Grandmother Mary made sure it stopped when she sat his robes on fire the last time she caught him. That all said, as I've said, are you doing well?"

1.	Alan Murray - Former Head for St. Mungo's

Flynn set his coffee on the table and crossed one leg over the other. It seemed that Gabrielle had no idea that Flynn was supportive of her relationship with Francis. Oops. No wonder she looked like she was ready to go to her death, even if it was for a few seconds. Flynn had plenty of experience in the Janus Thickley ward. He saw, firsthand, how difficult it was to have a loved one sent there. Those cases were grim; and it was draining on the family. He knew that Claire had no hope of recovering anytime soon, if ever. He felt like Francis did his duty to her, but the Claire that he married was gone.

“I’m doing well!” Flynn responded genially, looking down at the lime green of his robes. “It suits me, really? I always thought this shade washed me out but, hn. I’m proud to wear it.”  He laughed heartily when she mentioned her mischievous grandfather.

“Oh yes, ol’ Alan Murray. He flirted with me once, when he saw me from behind.” Flynn’s hair length varied—and there were times when it was down past his shoulders! “He stopped right then when he realized I was a man. I’ve never seen a painting so embarrassed before.”  He took a sip of his coffee, "Just got off work. It was a long night. Without this mana of the gods--" he held up his coffee cup, "Who knows how I'd survive?"

"Mana of the coffee gods, you mean. However, I appease them, the tea and coffee ones, both very well. I imagine they don't enjoy the feud that I cause between them both," Gabrielle responded towards Flynn's remark about the caffeinated beverage. Speak of, her own drink and her meal arrived shortly after - giving thanks, Gabrielle smiled at the coffee. A heart shaped foam, cute. Raising the cup, she drank from it and took a few bites from the crossisant.

A happy, pleased sigh left her soon enough - in addition to the cinnamon wafting upwards at her, food euphoria was occurring. The ham, Gruyere and dijon was married very well together. Kudos to the food team.

Gabrielle must have looked particularly amusing, short of a happy dance inside her seat. Realising this, a faint blush brushed against her cheeks. "My apologies, Flynn. It's been a few hours since I ate and by ate, I mean a cup of tea and ginger snaps."

Drinking another round, Gabrielle sighed, relaxing further in her seat. Licking her lips, she removed the stray foam that was interested in keeping itself there. "Also since you mentioned it somewhat, I take it you're a part of the small team who approves the relationship between Francis and I?"

He grinned at Gabrielle’s excitement over getting a proper meal, and her embarrassment immediately afterwards.  He understood all too well the joy of food, especially after a period of… Improper meals. Flynn, being the bachelor he was, very rarely actually cooked. When he did, it wasn’t exactly what one would call a delicious meal. No, he subsisted on fresh fruits and veggies, bread, pre-packaged meals, and take-out. Usually, he was so busy that he often left the flat with nothing but coffee in his system.

“Tea and ginger snaps, the breakfast of champions.” Flynn commented, raising his mug at her in approval.
He raised his eyebrows, a few wrinkles crunching on his forehead.

“Er, yes. I do. Approve of yours and Francis’ relationship, I mean.” Flynn sighed, “I only wish the rest of us did.” To be fair, it was a controversial topic. “I work on Claire’s floor, I see her every day. I see cases like her’s all the time. Francis has done his part. He deserves to move on and be happy. And if you can help him with that, then who am I to disapprove?”

He gave Gabie a squinty look, "Who's been giving you a hard time?"

Gabrielle listened in earnest to Flynn's words, smirking at his crinkly brow, grinning with his confirmation of terrible breakfast choices, and ultimately nodding somberly when the discussion of Claire came about.

And that dreaded question of who was giving them trouble.

Gabrielle wasn't too keen on where to begin with that inquiry. After all, their relationship was more often than not a double edged sword, wasn't it? Sighing softly, she took another drink before speaking.

"A few family members on his side, since the Prophet has yet to reveal our illustrious scheme. It doesn't bother me all too badly anymore, to be completely honest. Mind you, the sting often remains behind long after." She smiled weakly. "I'm grateful for your support, for Theta's as well. I know Grandfather wasn't too pleased in the beginning, but he recognises now what you have and has accepted it.

What I find the most remarkable in all of this, is my great-grandmother's words that she told me when I rejected Francis' proposal many yeats ago. She told me I would have to wait, that I couldn't return him so soon. That I would have to wait.

I waited, watching their family unfold, happy in the expansions of when Ambrose and Timothy were born. Yet, I felt alone, sad that it wasn't me. But now, this second chance admist the tragedies that have befallen them, maybe there's a chance for family, hm?"

A few family members on Francis’ side, giving trouble? Flynn suspected Monty. And probably his sister, Audrey. To be fair, his dear, sweet, beloved, pain of an older sister enjoyed confrontation, and was quick to berate anyone who she felt deserved it, regardless of whether or not they had actually done anything. Flynn chalked her disapproval to plain ol’ typical Audrey, who was resistant to change in the most inconsistent of ways.

If she was causing trouble (and Flynn wasn’t sure if Gabie or Francis would admit that), then he would have a firm talk with her. Maybe. If he could work up the courage to. Contrary to popular belief, Flynn wasn’t quite as reckless as he seemed. He was daring, yes—but not usually reckless. Confronting Audrey was leaning into reckless territory, and she would guard her opinion like a Hebridean Black mother guards her eggs.

“I sense some irony here.” Flynn shook his head, “I… I can see a chance for family, but.” He leaned forward, “But you’re never going to replace Claire.” He cupped his hands around his coffee, “You have your own place, next to Francis. But it’s different. It’s still family, but different.” While Flynn didn’t take offense to her bittersweet words, he could see others viewing it as her trying to.. Insert herself where she didn’t belong.

He felt that his shoulders had been tensing up, and he let out a sigh before flashing Gabrielle one of his winning smiles. "You're getting your chance now, a bit late. Might as well make the most of it."

"But you're never going to replace Claire."

Gabrielle matched Flynn's smile, pleased to hear another voice acknowledging her intentions to not replace Claire out of spite. Extending her hand, she patted Flynn's hand, nodding. "Thank you. Thank you so much for recognising that, Flynn. You have no idea how happy this makes me. As for family opinions, I've expected them all along the way, but for you to affirm your approval in the midst of troubled times, it makes it much, much better."

Reaching back and taking hold of her enormous cinnamon roll, Gabie cut it in half with her fork and slid the plate over towards Flynn. "Celebratory cinnamon roll?" she quipped, her smile now a beaming grin. "We can properly congratulate with it, hm?? After all, you may be seeing a bit more because of this relationship, eh?" Tugging a piece of her side off, the witch plopped it into her mouth, snickering moments after.

Flynn squeezed her hand congenially and then released it. He wasn’t surprised that Gabrielle was… Happy for his support. She and Francis had received plenty of negative feedback and backlash for their relationship, and there was no sense in adding to it. Something told him, that Claire would’ve wanted Francis to be happy, even if it meant not being with her. Flynn didn’t know for sure, but it was something he liked to think. If something happened to him, he wouldn’t want Fauna to stay. He would’ve wanted her to move on.

Granted their relationship was fairly new, and they were taking it slow. She wasn’t married to him, and they had made no agreements to be with each other in the long term. They were taking things as they came, slowly.

If Fauna wanted to move on now, Flynn wouldn’t have blamed her. They were both so focused on work that they hardly ever got to see each other.

“Thank you!” He exclaimed, gladly accepting half of the giant cinnamon roll. How generous of her! The cinnamon roll was no blackberry cobbler, but he enjoyed it all the same. Flynn doubted the pastries here were as good as his Uncle Tobias’ at his bakery. Flynn grabbed some flatware and began to eat the cinnamon roll with a fork and knife—either like a proper gentleman or an uncivilized beast, depending on what your cinnamon roll table manners were.

Snickering at Flynn's equal excitement, Gabrielle shook her head, her own munching moving along with the delightful textures of cinnamon, nutmeg, brown sugar in sync with one another.

"I take it....." she quipped moments later after taking another gulp of coffee, "you too are finding delights in the roll?" Gabrielle's smile was plastered ear to ear, a small, completely un-Ministry Department Head dance in her chair occurring from it. "We should do this more often and bring the great curly one with us, hm?"