Exactly a week ago, Jules had gone through the whirlwind that was the attack on the Leaky Cauldron. To call it a jarring experience would be a vast understatement, and Jules had spent her week dealing with the repercussions of the ordeal. She had been there to witness the explosion, had gotten knocked around quite a bit herself. Her concussion still throbbed and she had a few slow-healing burns, but she was managing them.

Tonight she had to get out. She had to get out and erase the last bunch of days. Jules had been working every day since the incident, round the clock, and the stress had mounted to a point where Jules actually gave herself a night off. It had been advised that she do so by her colleagues ever since the incident, but she had staunchly refused. Today she had finally reached her breaking point. She took off after lunch and had no plan of coming back. She had treated herself to a relaxing afternoon, but when she got dangerously close to thinking about what she'd seen at the explosions, Jules knew it was time to go out.

She put on a dress that was too young for her but did very clearly show off her hourglass figure. The black sparkled fabric clung to her curves; she was lucky enough to have befriended Cora Malkin, who was the best seamstress in London (at least in Jules' opinion, which Jules considered to be very highly regarded).

On nights like these Jules went out with a specific task in mind. She had a to do list, which was those two words, simply enough. She walked into Rover's Fancy and sat right at the center of the bar, just to the side of where the light was best. She was cloaked in just enough shade where the light caught the glitter of her dress, attracting the eye oef whoever might be looking.

Rufus had been out of the pub a few days when Jules Deville walked into Rover's, off on a mission Stateside to snag a few bottles of American firewhiskey in Rockwood as a trial run for Haints Distillery[1]. The taste testing and cookout the night before had been quite the adventure and Rufus was certain that Haints was going to give Ogden and Blishen a good run for their money. As for those bottles, a case was with Rufus as he eventually came through the back doors, smiling cheekily as he passed certain employees. "We did it, Pad. We've got ourselves a winner in the making," came the Irish brogue, placing the wooden carton down.

"Now. Onto the business."

One of the dark amber liquid bottles was carried with care, moving towards the bar area, eyes of various patrons moving to look at what exactly the owner had in tow. Placing it gently amongst Ogden, Blishen, Rufus grinned proudly at his new child of sorts and nodded towards the crowds behind him. His own eyes soon moved to focus on the redhead who sat center stage to the bar. “Evening, ma’am. Welcome to Rover’s. Might I interest you anything from the bar in particular? We’ve got a few new beasties, but all the old ones are here too. As for food, we’ve introduced cheese sticks with Guinness onion dip, prime rib with a smoky rub, as well as a chocolate lava cake with vanilla bean ice cream from Fortescue’s and your choice if’n you want a drizzle of various syrups. So – what’ll it be?”

1.	NPC business located in Tennessee; haint = ghost

The sound of an Irish accent turned Jules' head just in time to see what she momentarily thought might be a hallucination. A stack of whiskey bottles, with a pair of man's legs out the bottom. If it were at all possible, that's exactly what Jules would go home with: a whiskey with the lower half of a man. Jules blinked and gave her drink a double take before realizing there was not experiencing a psychotic episode but that the bottles of whiskey came (somewhat disappointingly) attached to an actual man.

While part of her would have preferred to have a long conversation with one of those attractive bottles of whiskey -- she supposed she could make do with their keeper. Jules had successfully captured his attention and she waited for him to list whatever insipid bar menu this place had. Frankly, she wasn't listening.

"To be honest I'm much more interested in those bottles you just brought in," Jules said while peering over the bar. She gave the glass of scotch on the rocks she was presently drinking a swirl. She flashed her azure eyes at his after giving him a fairly blatant once-over. "Or whatever it is you'd recommend." She smiled coyly, looked away and took a sip of her drink.

"Ah, the bottle I just placed up there? It's American, actually, and it just celebrated its first birthday. Sounds oddly nostalgic for them, I imagine. It's a firewhiskey brewed in the mountains of Tennessee, fueled by pretty hot fires. Has hints of fiery cinnamon and a slight sweetness of apple. Different for a firewhiskey, sure, but I've got a feeling it's going to make Ogden's and Blishen look like old men within months. Finish up th'scotch and I'll let you have a taste, eh?" Rufus replied cheekily, grinning at Jules in amusement.

"Don't believe I've noticed you before though. Then again, I'm usually behind the scenes, checking out the workers, the numbers. 'm Rufus; pleased to meet'cha." Turning, Rufus opened the bottle open, pouring himself a brief shot with a few ice cubes to drop in it, staring at the liquid when ice met the contents. A soft sizzle was heard; Rufus was impressed. Then again, he hadn't been the one pouring and distributing when celebrating in Tennessee. "That's different, no?"

"Well, Americans do know their whiskey," Jules commented. She had grown up in an upper-class family, filled with men who had an inborn knowledge of all things whiskey. Though Jules wasn't a man of the family, she had grown up listening to her father make comments about the different brands and strains of the spirit he'd enjoy. In her own experiences with whiskey she'd observed that American brands had an extra kick.

"Finish up th'scotch and I'll let you have a taste, eh?"

Jules' brow arched at the notion of waiting for anything. When Jules wanted something, she got it. So, somewhat out of spite and a bit to impress, she downed the rest of her scotch and set the glass down gracefully. "It was too watery anyway" Jules commented flatly. "I imagine those hints of fiery cinnamon and slight sweetness of apple might do nicely to get that taste out." She smirked at him, pushing the tumbler in his direction, as if asking him to take a dare.

"Don't believe I've noticed you before though. Then again, I'm usually behind the scenes, checking out the workers, the numbers. 'm Rufus; pleased to meet'cha."

"Jules," she said simply, picking up the fresh glass and taking a sip. Rufus had accurately described the flavors in the liquor. While Jules preferred a bit of a harsher taste, she could appreciate the artistry put into this brew. "I've never come here before," Jules added, taking another taste of the drink. She nodded in agreement with Rufus' assessment. "But different is good." She brushed hair from her face and gazed into Rufus' eyes for a moment before smiling to herself and looking down at her drink. "It can be, anyway."

_{one super late rufus because of ames, sorry love!}

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"Different only hurt the cat went it got bloody nosy, last I checked, Jules," Rufus recommended with a nod, finishing off the first shot of the whiskey, soon pouring a new round for the pair. "I'm fairly certain that Haints is going to do just fine. As for you, you going to make it as well?" A chuckle escaped the wizard's lips, pressing the cool glass to lips to drink from again before lowering to speak a bit more freely. "Is there anything else I could do the lady for this evening or are you sated for now? Mind you, bantering (and flirting, his mind agreed) counts in that cause."

The arrival of a few interested patrons put a halt to the situation, soon leaving Rufus to attend to their matters before returning to focus on Jules. "Have any you any considerations yet?"

“Different only hurt the cat when it got bloody nosy, last I checked, Jules…. I’m fairly certain that Haints is going to do just fine.”

To be honest, Jules didn’t fully understand what the man was talking about, and was instead daydreaming about what he might look like without his shirt on. He was a good-looking specimen, that was for sure. And that was the basic requirement for Jules’ mission. She nodded in agreement when he mentioned the whiskey they’d just drank. Helping herself to the bottle, she topped her drink off, and his.

She held up her glass and made a gesture that they should clink glasses. “Cheers, to the fact that we’re not cats with bloody noses.” She smirked and finished out the process, ending with a slow sip of the whiskey. It really was very smooth; Rufus had good taste -- which she supposed was good in a pub owner.

“As for you, are you going to make it as well? … Is there anything else I could do the lady for this evening or are you sated for now? Mind you, bantering .. counts in that cause.”

“Oh, there are a few things I can imagine us doing,” Jules said bluntly, never really ashamed about her sexuality. “I’ll stay content if my glass stays full and I’m joined by someone very entertaining.” She looked into his eyes to make her point. “If not… I might just have to go find a different handsome bartender to give me whiskey samples.” She sipped at her drink and then added, “And in that situation… I believe different would be good for me, no?”