Claire lounged about in her traditional weekend wardrobe, despite the fact that it was a Thursday afternoon. Being the manager of Zonko's allowed her to make her own schedule, and lately her hours had been minimal. This resulted in an already dwindling paycheck,  and still she spent whatever that was on whiskey and ale. Responsibility didn't interest Claire in the least, and she'd always been told to live in the moment. So far that was going pretty well for her, if she ignored the bills that occasionally were howlers (they only sent howlers to the truly indebted.) They were easy to tune out if you knew the right charms and spells. Or if you had selective hearing, like Claire did, it was even easier.

There was a knock on the door, which she was completely unprepared for. Her friends knew better than to visit Claire's apartment, for it was hoarded with bizarre furniture and 'inventions.' At the moment, Claire was facing a creative block and so there were several potential projects splayed across the floor. Who could it be? Claire tried to avoid being in the apartment when she knew that her landlady would be there. It had been 6 months since she last paid rent, so she stayed isolated in her room or out at the bars. That schedule had worked out well in the past.

Seeming to forget that she was dressed only in a slightly offensive t-shirt and underwear, paired with a strangely shaped hat, slippers, and hamburger socks. Claire didn't realize the faux-pas until Mrs. Gretchen Garnick was standing at her door. She cursed mentally (seriously struggling not to do it out loud). She thought that ole Gretch was at work! But apparently she was there, standing in Claire's doorway, and already judging Claire's outfit.

"Gretch!" Claire yelped in a way that she hoped sounded friendly. She hadn't seen Gretchen in weeks and was actively avoiding her. "Lemme just find-- " Claire scrambled for a pair of pants and threw them on. Thank Merlin they toned down the amount of inappropriate things she had on while she was apparently going to have to talk to her landlord. Claire sighed. Was this it? She took a quick swig from a  flask she spotted on the floor by her bed before returning to the room. Whatever had been in that flask was awful, but it would help get her through whatever this was going to be.

Gretchen Garnick looked completely out of place in Claire's flat. More ironing had been done to her dress than anything in Claire's wardrobe. In fact, Claire didn't think she even owned an iron. There had to be some sort of anti-wrinkle spell Gretchen was using, and of course Gretchen knew an anti-wrinkle spell. She was just that type of person: crisp with sharp edges. But since she had four sons (all older than Claire), she was somewhat grounded. That patience and understanding was probably what had gotten Claire living rent-free for half a year.

"Clarissa, we need to discuss..." Gretchen stopped mid sentence to pointedly gaze at the scattering of empty bottles of 'grown-up' butterbeer. She turned to face Claire, who sensed what was coming next.

"You know I love you, dear, but I just can't keep you here this way," Gretchen told her. She brushed Claire's hair from her eyes and looked at her sympathetically. "It just isn't fair to me, love. I've given you all the time I can." Claire looked down at her feet. "You can leave your furniture and things... start moving them out. I'll give you two weeks to find a place." Serious conversations made her feel like she was being scolded. She was in trouble, alright, but not little kid kind of trouble. Grown-up trouble. Like where was she going to live type of trouble.

Claire suppressed her worries as she always did and nodded. "I feel ya, Gretch," Claire said in the most positive way she could. "It'll be fine." She gave the woman a hug. When they pulled away, Gretchen took Claire's arms, looked her in the eyes, and said "Make good choices." She let go and gave Claire a half-hearted smile. "And come visit us." Claire nodded, not really knowing what else say.