It was late. How late Omari had no way of knowing. The sun had set, and the Three Broomsticks was almost empty, except for a couple of drunken warlocks by the bar. It didn’t matter though. Omari had stopped caring about the time some time ago. Four bottles of Knotgrass Mead ago, to be precise.

It hadn’t been his intention to end up at a table by himself on a Thursday night. He had been over to his mother for dinner in the village - a tradition they tried to uphold every week - and had thought just to pop in for a nightcap. But one Butterbeer, on top of the nettle wine his mother had served, had led to a bottle of mead which turned into more, and suddenly the table was filled with empty bottles.

That’s when the memories came. It had been almost six years since Lucas had past, but they still hit him like it was yesterday. The picture of Lucas’ lifeless body in the alley of some God-forsaken Italian village filled his head. In those moments, drinking was the only thing that helped.

Not many knew of his nightly departures to the pub. He kept it well hidden, usually only visiting Muggle pubs in different towns around the country, always without company. His mother had found out during the first year after Lucas’ passing, and had made Omari clean himself up. What she didn’t know was that upon finally graduating from Auror training, the habit had kicked in again.

The bottle was empty. Scowling, Omari and tried to heave himself up from the table but his prosthetic leg suddenly felt too heavy, and he called out instead, with his dark, booming voice. A minute later a new bottle of mead was in his hand. He took a sip. This one might make the memories go away.

Mihai's home was.. Well, rather empty. Mihai had taken Juni home from her school trip in the middle of Malaysia after the boat had capsized. Most of the studetns who had gone on the trip stayed, but Mihai had multiple reasons why he took Juni home. The main one? Ira Almasy had funded the trip, and he simply did not trust her. The reasons did not matter; Juni had inherited his wander-thirst, and he doubted she would ever forgive him.

At the moment,  she was furious with him. Juni would barely even speak to him beyond exasperated groans and eye rolling and door slamming. Her closest friends, however, didn't go on the trip, so at least she wasn't bored out of her mind.  In fact, tonight she was spending the night with her dear friend Esther, having a slumber party and doing whatever it was that fifteen year olds did at slumber parties. This left Mihai free to do whatever it was he wanted.

He stopped by one of the decent pubs in the area with one of his coworkers, a tall, firey-haired obliviator named Simon Strout. At first, they sat at the bar and discussed work, their lives, the usual-- one pint of lager became two... Then three. The next thing Mihai knew, he and Simon had forgotten their age and moved onto shots. It didn't take long after that for Simon to leave, arms locked with a lovely woman with a sharp tongue.

And so he was alone, and far from sober.  Mihai squinted his eyes and looked around the pub, looking for a familiar face. He saw several, but not any that weren't grating until...

Omari Warrington.

They had worked together briefly on a few cases, in those instances where obvliviator work overlapped with an auror's crime scene. Omari had been here just as long as Mihai-- if not a bit longer.

He stood up carefully, steadying himself with his hand on the counter. He hesitated for a mere moment but then made his way to the auror before taking a seat at his table.  "Hello, Omari." Mihai said easily, "What're you doing here alone?" The question didn't sound judgmental, but mostly inquisitive, though it also carried the air of someone who was at least two strong drinks beyond sobriety.

“Hello, Omari.”

Someone sat down at the table next to him, and he looked up, confused. Someone sitting down at the table was not something Omari had anticipated. Usually, on his nightly adventures, he was left alone in the rear end of whatever pub he was visiting. Probably because of his angry looks, and big built combined with the large leather coat he usually wore when off duty. This intrusion to his imagined privacy was an interruption he didn’t quite know how to handle.

“What’re you doing here alone?”

Omari tried to place the other wizard. Somewhere in the back of his mind he recognized him, but in his state it was hard to place from where. School? No, he looked older than Omari. Duelling? This could be a possibility, but he usually remembered the ones he beat. And by the looks of it, he would’ve easily beat this guy. (To be fair, that thought was probably just the confident of the alcohol talking though.) Work? It had to be work. But definitely not an Auror.

“What’s it to you?” he growled, taking another swig of his mead and squinted, trying to focus on the man. “Do I know ye?”