It wasn't difficult to catch Frederick in the middle of a yawn, and today he had been doing it incessantly. It seemed that he was chronically tired these days, perhaps due to the influx in visitors now that the summer was ...... happening. The only change in the weather Freddie had noticed was that it was markedly less cloudy.

Stretching as he walked through the rooms of his house/place of business, Freddie nodded hello at a few customers and made his way towards the kitchen. He looked through what Lu had made, but unfortunately she'd been on a health kick lately and Freddie wasn't into it. With a groan he flung himself onto the counter, laying down across the surface.

He folded his hands on top of his stomach and closed his eyes. "Maybe if I dream of some fish and chips..." Freddie wondered aloud. He hard someone grumbling about the health inspector. Freddie opened one eye and peered across the room, targeting a particularly ugly man in the corner. Freddie perched himself up on an elbow.

"Oy, if you don't like the way I run me house, ye can feel free to piss off," Freddie retorted. He raised an eyebrow at the fellow and tilted his head in mock-stupidity. The man in question muttered an apology and Freddie gave an apt nod. "That's what I thought, mate." Freddie laid back down and closed his eyes, dreaming of greasy food.

"Aw..." she cooed, standing over him, a stein of dark lager already in her hand. "Freddie-baby...All tuckered out..."  Teasingly, she gave a little tug on his bandana about his neck.

She peered casually over the counter, spying a spread of celery.  Taking a stick for herself, Ahmes munched with great, resonant bites. "And grumpy as hell," she observed, glancing over at the displeased patron. 

Not that it took much for Freddie to shift into 50 shades of indignation.  It was probably his favorite flavor.  She nudged him slightly, indicating to make space before she clamored atop the counter, seating herself on the edge. Ahmed was a notorious counter-sitter. She didn't even own a dining table.  Why should she, with so many counters around.

If she came by Freddie's and Alfie's enough, she might not even need a kitchen.  With her wand, she summoned some pita chips and hummus over.  Carrots could go in the hummus--oh, God--she was never leaving this kitchen.

She cringed inwardly at the combination.  Setting down the stein, Ahmes decided to commit to the veggies--she was responsible, now, anyhow--and began to scoop up an assortment of carrots and broccoli heads.  "So," she said between bites, "you still needing to shoo the underage younglings out of here, with Hogwarts out of session?"

Ahmes wondered if the wizarding folk from London often made the trek.  To be perfectly honest, Ahmes might not have--had her parents not already lived so close. 

"S'Alfie here?" she asked between chews.  Not that she had come particularly for her ex.  She was equally close to both brothers by now.  "I can tell Lu's been here. She's the only one that's got any sense when it comes to food."

Meaning that it was fresh and clean.  Ahmes really didn't have many standards beyond that.  She was as guilty as anyone of eating greasy left-over pizza from the counter the next day.  She thought of her lunch today: leftover pizza from two nights before, and an apple she'd discovered in the bottom of her purse from who knew when.

...Well, then, guiltier than most, then.

When Ahmes tugged on his bandana, Freddie pouted and crossed his arms petulantly. She was probably right in saying that he was grumpy, but the more likely cause of his angst was a hangover. Freddie, however, was convinced that it was withdrawal from junk food.

He moved over to let Ahmes onto the counter reluctantly. She was eating the rubbish that Lu had come up with and was serving to his guests, which apparently was not poisonous because Ahmes continued munching on it. It had to be the loudest combination of foods he had ever come across in his lifetime, along with the most pungent of dips.

"So.. you still needing to shoo the underage younglings out of here, with Hogwarts out of session?"

Freddie covered his eyes with his arm. He really was only half-listening to what Ahmes was saying. "I'll let in a firstie if they can make a batch of chips," Freddie deadpanned. Age was about wisdom, not numbers. In fish n chips-cooking wisdom, Freddie was still an infant. In fish n chips-eating, however, he was infinitely wise.

He opened an eye at Ahmes. "You don't cook, do you?" he asked skeptically. He'd known Ahmes for years and she didn't seem the type to enjoy the slave labor that was food preparation.

"S'Alfie here?... I can tell Lu's been here. She's the only one that's got any sense when it comes to food."

Ahmes was one of Alfie's best exes, in the sense that she was actually quite cool and not horrifically crazy. Or, in the case of the femme fatale of a waitress they had, impossibly mysterious almost to the point of anonymity. "Somewhere," Freddie said vaguely, waving his hand around to imply that he might be in the house somewhere. "But he said somethin' about Spain..." Freddie's voice trailed off. He thought for a moment and tried to remember, then gave up and shrugged.

"You mean--cook chips? No.  It can't be that hard. Don't you just drop some chopped potatoes into boiling oil?"

That sounded easier than Potions classes.  Which she'd done somewhat well in. 

Freddie was somewhat of an irascible toddler at times.  Which meant his moaning and dramatics had a sort of cuddly charm about them.  She rolled her eyes with a smirk at Alfie's apparent disappearance.  "I forget how tight of a ship you run, Freddie," she quipped, drily.  "You have any potatoes on hand anyway?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Freddie was hellbent on something, and she personally wouldn't be satisfied until she got the man fussing over a boiling pot of oil--or they burned the kitchen down.

In all reality, both options were still fully plausible.

The temptation to blank Ahmes entirely grew in size after she admitted she didn't cook chips. Her theory on chips-making sounded reasonable, and her logic was the only thing keeping her in Freddie's realm of focus. "Exactly, doll. Now get to." Freddie deliberately ignored the comment about his tight ship. He knew that if he addressed it, anything he said would result in a profoundly sad lack of chips. That wasn't a place he was looking to be in.

"You have any potatoes on hand anyway?"

A valid question, that was. Freddie did his best not to react. They had to have potatoes, right? They were healthy... some type of fruit, or something? Lu would've ordered those. "Accio... potatoes?" Freddie said skeptically. He hoped for the best, and slowly a few gnarly-looking taters wobbled towards them.

Though he'd operated the Artful Dodger for years now, Freddie still didn't know much about food. He had his dishes, sure, but Alfie was really the cook out of them and Lu was absolutely in charge. "You can still use em right?" Freddie asked, hoping the tentacles growing out of the spuds meant nothing.

"Oh, feck no." Ahmes said, folding her arms.  "My question was an assessment.  Not an offer. You can still use them, Mr Foodman."  Ostensibly not the best jab, but then again, he wasn't the most discerning of her friends, where linguistics was involved.

Curiously, she did reach her finger out to poke one of the spuds with her nail.  It wobbled uncertainly on the table in response.  "I think this one is still alive and kicking," she muttered. 

"I know this might not boost troop morale, or whatever," she said with a shrug.  She'd never run a restaurant.  "But just like... order takeaway, if you have to.  I mean," she lowered her voice and leaned in, glancing warily sidelong at the formerly grumpy patron.  If he didn't approve of Freddie's health codes, he certainly wouldn't approve of this.  "Why the hell do you run a restaurant without the food you want anyhow?"

Hell, if she owned a place, everything'd be cooked in bacon grease, covered in chocolate, or drizzled in lemon. Or all of the above.

Good Lord. She had grossly misapplied her creative abilities.  She should have been a chef.

It was becoming clear to Freddie that he was not going to have chips anytime in the near future. Groaning loudly, Freddie took the tentacle-ridden tater and flung it at the wall, where it splattered in a way that ensured it should never be eaten. Freddie didn't react to this and made no move to clean it up. He'd get to that later ,maybe.

"Why the hell do you run a restaurant without the food you want anyhow?"

Freddie threw his hands in the air. "I never asked any o' these people to come!" Freddie sputtered. "They just come... then they expect things, they just expect things!" He looked around at the customers, his eyes wild. It was their fault that he didn't have chips! The customers around him were beginning to look rather frightened.

He took a deep breath and relaxed. "Maybe just a cuppa then?" he looked at Ahmes pathetically, hoping she would have pity on him.

"Dun' get your knickers in a twist," Ahmes said with a self-concilliatory tone.  Irascible babies, her friends. All of them. "God."

"Maybe just a cuppa then?"

Ahmes laughed pleasantly through her nose, shaking her head. "Ye're such a baby," she muttered, not at all irritated as she caught her purse--previously thumped heavily onto the floor--with the toe of her boot in order to pull it up.  She began scrounging through it, fingers clasping around the flask.

At the rate all of her dear little baby-friends were nursing on this bottle--she recalled Claire just a couple of days before--she'd need to refill daily. 

"I hope you dinna mean coffee," she said airily, holding the flask out.  "Cuz I'm fresh out."

"So..." she said, searching for a topic of conversation with the irascible baby.  Usually it wasn't all that hard, but that was when Freddie wasn't in a mood.  Who knew what was safe conversation now? "...Finally getting warmer outside, nau." It was her favorite time of year, really.  As things heated up in London with that sort of summer grime in the air she never felt she could fully escape, her weekend retreats to the Scottish highlands became more treasured. 

It became clear to Freddie, as he watched chunks of rotten potato slide down his wall, that he might be verging on the edge of cranky. Such tended to happen when he was hungry, and at this point his stomach was becoming just as vocally annoyed about it.

Though he expected an adorably made cup of tea from the pretty girl who had once been the object of his brother's affections, that was not what Ahmes whipped out. His eyebrows shot up as his eyes lit up excitedly, as if he were a boy opening a train set on Christmas morn.

"I knew I kept you 'round for a reason," Freddie said, grabbing the flask and taking a sip. Ahh, the burn. Freddie sat up but remained on the counter, taking another sip as Ahmes floundered for a conversation starter. Freddie stared at her as if she'd said the most inane thing he'd ever heard. After a long glare this way, his face brightened and he laughed.

"Didn' know you were so keen on the weather," He teased. "I hear it's raining in Peru." Freddie was a rather absurd guy, and there weren't many who were able to follow a conversation with him. He was rather arbitrary with the things he said.

It didn't take much to liquor him up, Ahmes decided.  Instantly, Freddie was a changed man.

"I dearly hope it's not fer the booze, Freddie," she drawled with a crooked smile.  "Seeing as ye run well, a pub pub... It's apparent yer fresh out of chips, but y'do have something on tap, yes?"

If what she carted around in her purse was better than the establishment offered...  And then Ahmes forgot the prevailing, persistent laziness that was Freddie.

"Ah," she said, tapping the side of her nose. Men were such babies. "I see.  Lu's out, so ye've stuck to what's within grabbing distance, and fer once, yer stuck sober and fried-food-less. Flattered as I am, I'm not looking to be yer new trolley witch." She thought for a moment, fondly, of the witch from the Hogwarts express, doling out candy to those grabby little monsters.  She'd been probably the worst offender, back in the day.

"Didn' know you were so keen on the weather," He teased. "I hear it's raining in Peru."

Well, it was a day of revelations for Freddie.  Ahmes could probably small talk as long and as awkwardly as was needed.  "Defenceless and grouchy as y'were, I wasn't sure what was a safe topic of conversation, Frederick." Ahmes teased.  "But, now that yer more," she gestured with a slight flourish of her hands, attempting to adopt his tone, "yourself," we can resume being unreasonable." She perched herself on the edge of the counter where Freddie was sat, casually. "Speaking of Peru,  actually, I've been thinking I want to go sometime soon-ish.  Get me an alpaca jumper. Or maybe just an alpaca. Those are the same as llamas, aren't they?"  Lord, that must be a customs nightmare.  Still, she was sure there was a way.  If Hogwarts could transplant droves of foreign students for the year, surely she could transport one wee, tiny hairy creature.

Well, a human(ish)-sized creature. 

"Though I do like deer, too. Can't imagine my landlord tolerating either, though, the bludger-faced weasel. It's a shame. London living can be so.... boring."  She frowned.  Try as she might, she couldn't escape the feeling that her flat was all too... quiet.  Her life was feeling all too quiet, and it was nice to have a living, breathing thing in your space to keep things unexpected.  Even if it meant sometimes unpleasant surprises.  It was better than being that buttoned-up, clean-living landlord's dreamchild...  "You keep any animals here--don't count yer brother, nau," she said, pointing a finger and anticipating his response.

She gave a somewhat guilty glance over to the patron who seemed big on health inspections.  "S'arlight," she said with a shrug, indicating it could be a talk for another time. "Maybe I just need a roommate.  D'ye lend yer brother out?" She grinned wolfishly.  "Or what was it y'were telling me about?  That Muggle service--couch surfing?  Maybe I could host a coupla Muggles."  She raised her eyebrows in a challenge, daring Freddie to question that.

The not-so-subtle message Ahmes relayed suggesting that Freddie drink his own liquor made him feel a little bit like a mooch but mostly like a failed shopkeeper. She had a valid point: why didn't he have any of the things a traditional pub required? It was a query that haunted at him daily, nagging at his soul. He sighed. "Donations are always accepted," Freddie commented, taking one last sip before reluctantly handing the flask back.

"You're fired," Freddie said in monotone. Ahmes would make a terrible employee, at least if she had Frederick Dodger as a boss. His staff had to tolerate his wacky (and occasionally insufferable) nature. Even Freddie could admit that this required a fair helping of patience. He missed Lu, who would have whipped him up some fish and chips (and would have probably made them secretly healthy somehow).

Freddie nodded along with Ahmes' ramblings about four-legged creatures, a far more interesting topic than the weather. "I think I'm being haunted by an alpaca... or a llama," Freddie said rather morosely. "I think he's having trouble moving onto the next life because he can't decide which he is." Freddie thought about the strange agricultural smell that lingered in his pantry. Had to be an alpaca/llama, right?

In the presence of a possible health inspector it was tricky to talk about the animals that inhabited the Dodger. There were a number of stray cats, but additionally there were a few creatures that had staked claims on certain parts of the house. Luckily Ahmes caught on to this and switched topics. "Depends how comfortable your couch is" Freddie responded. "Alfie's raised his standards since you last had a.....  sleepover." He chose his words delicately but couldn't help but smirk,  ever the immature little boy.

It was the shortest interview she'd never had.  Fired before being hired (against her will).  "Cheers, then," she said, raising the newly received flask in the air before taking a hearty swallow.  "Here's to the end of us," she added cheerily.  All responsibility happily shrugged off, Ahmes could go back to being the pesky hanger-on. 

"If you catch the llamapaca," she said, "let me know.  I'd love to find a way to turn a non-corporeal..." she paused. Too dark.  But think of the silvery, whispy jumper she could have! "...well, it'd make for some great fashion accessories."

But then-- "Alfie's raised his standards since you last had a.....  sleepover."

At this, Ahmes slapped his arm. Hard.  "Freddie!" she growled. "Nau I know ye'd never imply that I was beneath yer brother." She paused, the smirk mirroring his own as she realized an unintentional pun that, within moments, the boy-man-child was likely to jump on if she didn't.  "That was never my style," she said, raising her chin with a weighty dignity.  "Besides," she drawled, "I thought you and I had a gentleman's agreement between us--that ye'd forever scourge yer brother fer letting me get away..."  Even if she had been the one that had broken up with him.  Probably a few times.  It was all sort of a blur.