Just human.

There was nothing about the human condition that Peter could precede with the word 'just' but he accepted her kindness with a polite, still somewhat sedated expression. And then the fork dropped.

"Onetime![1] That's perfectly right," he touched Kohaku's shoulder in thanks of the reminder - the trek to Edgware seemed like weeks ago. "Have you frequented the patissiere in Edgware? Rather, closer to Marble Arch, I mean. He's a marvel. Originally from Damascus you know. Now." He clasped his hands together alertly. "Coffee and baklava. Or is it tea, nè?"

Peter was up in a listless, graceful motion.The gap between his consciousness and action came to a close; a bitter yet gratifying sensation resembling the feeling one recovers on escaping a daydream.

"Shan't we enjoy it in your parlour, with music?" this was meant for Maiko. "If you'll give me the run of making coffee and tea, you can set up. I'll show you precisely how the sharpshooters did it in Istanbul. Dancing, that is, they didn't take their baklava in any special way."

1.	South African slang, meaning "of course" or as a positive response.

Kohaku gave Peter a rather vexed look, shifting under Peter’s hand uncomfortable. He was so touchy, and Kohaku was not someone who was accustomed to that when it came to strangers. Touch was reserved for family, friends, and lovers—not for strange men who looked like they belonged in an Indiana Jones movie. Kohaku couldn’t even a comment about that, because the joke would be totally lost on this guy—to Kohaku, he seemed like the usual wizard—weird, alienating, and oblivious to anything muggle related.

Mai, however, watched in amusement as her brother cringed under Peter’s touch. Kohaku had always been so testy. At least he wasn’t berating Peter for it. Her little brother was growing up!

“I don’t see why we can’t have coffeeand tea.” Mai responded. She preferred teas, but her brother liked both and they generally had coffee around. She stood up swiftly, gracefully. “Kohaku, what shall we introduce our new friend to? Hn?”

“Green Day.” Kohaku said dully, “American Idiot.”

Mai paused in the doorway and raised her eyebrows, looking over her shoulder at her brother.

“Fine. Basket Case.”

“…… Kohaku.”

“You know. Am I just paranoid? Am I just stoned?” He shrugged passively, though his smile was a bit wry.
“I don’t even…” She didn’t dislike Green Day, but it hardly felt appropriate. “No.”

“Fine then, don’t ask for my opinion.” Kohaku turned to Peter. “You’d love Green Day. It's great for moshing. It's like beating each other up to music.”

"I can't argue that it's good for moshing." She muttered, looking through her shelves trying to figure out which record to put on. It was only then that she realized how little wizarding music she actually had. Part of it was for Kohaku's sake, but part of it was also because, quite frankly, she was partial to muggle music. There were very few wizarding musicians who had caught her attention.

"What kind of music are you in the mood for, Peter?" Mai called out, a small crease forming between her eyebrows as she was stuck with one of life's difficult choices. "I have... Too many choices." Queen, Billy Joel, Ella Fitzgerald, various instrumentals... A mixture of Maiko's varied tastes and Kohaku's rather punk-poppy ones.

Green Day!

Were they Irish, he wondered? Peter smiled broadly to himself as he listened to the playful exchange - how he imagined it would be if his parents had dared to grant him siblings - and was swift with his hands as kitchen cupboards swung open at an alarming rate. Cups, saucers, spices... ah. Yes.

"It sounds like a donnering violent form of dance," the wizard commented to the younger man. "This moshing. I've never been a fighter, you know. Never went gunning for a pehrer."[1] Several boxes came down: teas and ground coffee. A cafétiere revealed itself from one of the lower cupboards.

He had that unusual ability of being able to make his way around the homes of strangers without much fuss.

Maiko called from the other room and Peter glanced over his shoulder, looking past Kohaku at the witch. His head buzzed with the names of teas but he managed to pinpoint a specific mood. "1980s, I believe!" he called back, cheerful. "Damned lot of things happened then. What tea would you like? Herbal, black? Rooibos?"

1.	South African slang - looking for a fight.

“Violent? No, the most noble.” Kohaku insisted. Because obviously, all the noblest forms of dance included bruised ribs, black eyes, and bloody nose. Either Maiko didn’t hear him or she was so focused on finding the right album, that she honestly didn’t care.

She did, however, respond to Peter. So chances were, she was simply ignoring Kohaku. That was probably the best choice.

By the sounds of things, her guest was finding everything perfectly fine. “There should be some jasmine in there, if you don’t mind. Rooibos if the jasmine has fled again.” Maiko was fairly certain that one of her tins of jasmine tea was an enchanted one from Puddifoot’s, and it had a tendency to show up in the oddest of places. Places that she would never place tea. Like in a laundry basket or the freezer.

“1980s you say?” Maiko’s expression lit up, and Kohaku made an exasperated sighing noise-- he knew what was coming. Anyone who actually knew Mai well knew what was coming. “Fun fact: This song was written as a tribute to Elvis Presley.” She pulled out a record and got it set up on the gramophone. “Queen is my favourite, please let me know what you think!” And if he enjoyed it, she would send him home with some vinyl to listen to later.

In no time at all, the familiar sound of the rhythm guitar started playing,[1] and Maiko practically wiggled in excitement-- ready to dance to the song’s unusual groove. The whole thing, to her, was permeated with a sense of fun.

1.	Crazy Little Thing Called Love; Queen

Jasmine, Jasmine, Jasmine...

Peter smiled to himself as his fingers ran along the tops of labelled tins, amused by the dynamic between his host and the young man. Divisive taste in music. He stopped at a bright blue can and drew it from the cupboard, which closed as a pot floated from a kitchen shelf down to the counter.

"I knew a Jasmine, once," the wizard commented in a conversational tone just as much to Kohaku as to himself, while the water came to boil. He liked electric kettles.  Even so: nothing quite tasted like the soft waters of Cape Town or Anatolia - heated on a base fire in the outdoor air. "Or a Yasmin, rather, as she preferred."

You couldn't bring them back, the soft waters or Jasmines.

Both cafétiere as well as pot were filled and left to brew. Peter was just about to carry the tray into the other room when the music began. His blonde brow rose in some surprise and he ambled to the parlour entrance, leaning against the frame to listen with folded arms. "I say," he remarked with a growing smile. "That's a bricky tune."

Maiko didn't seem like she could stand still with the song playing.



And how could anyone choose otherwise? Peter laughed in delight, giving in far too easily for a grown man as he joined Maiko proper in the room and took one of her hands. "Don't mind this Sad Sal," he took her other hand. "I'm a little rusty with swing." But not rusty enough not to be able to pull the witch into a marvelous jive.

Her hips swayed back and forth to the beat, and she shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, ready to dance. She couldn't hold back anymore, the song was practically begging to be danced to, and who would be so cruel and heartless to deny themselves such unadulterated fun? She bounced on the tips of her toes, ready to leap into action. She looked at Kohaku as he peeked his head out of the kitchen, but once they made eye contact, he retreated.

But apparently she didn’t even have to ask. Apparently, her newest friend could not sit still either. And so, their tea and coffee were forgotten for the next couple minutes.

Maiko wasn’t going to lie—Peter was a little rusty with swing. But rusty with swing is better than nothing, and his enthusiasm made up for any mis-steps or mild fumbling. He recovered quickly, and better yet—he was able to keep up with Maiko’s bouncy, vivacious, animated self.

She now had no doubt in her mind that Peter would be the first person she asked to… Anything that involved music. She probably wouldn’t even have to guilt trip or coerce him in any way! That was always a plus!

When the song ended, she let out a mirthful laugh and squooshed Peter's cheeks. "You, mon ami, have made" Squoosh "My." Squoosh squoosh "Night."