Emily lingered outside of Sword of Chant only long enough to peer down the darkened alleyway. Just as it was the first time she'd come here, there was no sign of Beth's mutt. Pity. One restless night alone in her flat wasn't enough to change her stance on getting a dog, but she could use a smile. The past thirty hours hadn't been generous with reasons to smile. Tonight might have been planned over a week ago, but she really wanted a drink. And her friend. Both equally although the hours leading up to actually leaving her flat had Emily swinging violently between which she wanted more.

Beth wasn't anywhere to be found and Emily dutifully, albeit grudgingly, pulled herself up on the bar stool. She come prepared this time in practical knee boots and burgundy trousers, the bag however, that she wasn't giving up. With it hooked under the bar, Emily ordered her much needed glass of wine without a care what Beth might have to say on the subject. Priss or not if she was the first one here, she damn well had the right to order whatever she liked.

It also went down a lot quicker than the beer did...

London. It was always London. Frankly, Bethan would have had nothing to do with the city if it wasn't, in many ways, the epicenter of wizarding Britain. All it took to change one's perception of a place was one traumatic event, and Beth had experienced hers good and early, back when she was young enough for one crazy happenstance to change her entire perception of the world, and London had been tainted good and early. Needless to say, the more recent explosion, which had taken place only the day before, had shaken the unshakeable Beth Ellis, though she wouldn't in a million years admit it.

She hadn't been terribly involved in the aftermath, as the Aurors were dealing with most of it, and that left the hitwizards (and particularly the greener hitwizards – meaning Beth) to pick up their slack elsewhere. She felt like someone's kid sister who had been reluctantly allowed to join in on game she hadn't been invited to play. Even so, she'd be back in London for work Monday morning, and she was on her way back to London now. With the Leaky Cauldron out of commission, she wasn't sure whether the old Sword and Chant would be overrun, or if the place would be deserted.  It was her favorite pub - her old place - and she'd made plans with Emily long before anything had blown up. The only reason she hadn't contacted her to suggest a new venue was because she didn't intend to let on how close to home the event had hit.

So yes, she was dragging her feet – as much as she wanted to see Emily, she really didn't want the obliterated pub to be at the center of their discourse on a night that was supposed to be fun. Plus, Emily lived right there. Too close, if you asked the blonde witch – which meant that Emily probably had feelings about all of this, and Beth didn't want to so much as poke at those with a ten-foot wand. She was late when she waltzed in (and not even fashionably late, if you compared her casual ensemble with the coordinated number Emmy had on), ambling up to the bar and launching herself up onto the stool in her traditional way. “Alright, Em?” she said by way of greeting, eying her friend's wine glass with the tiniest of smirks.

The wine arrived and without ceremony, Emily dove in. The background music was blessedly free of any reports of the attack the night before, but if she listened hard enough, she could pick up bits and pieces of conversation through out the room. The wine, if nothing else, served as an excellent distraction from trying to make any of it out. By the time Beth vaulted up on the bar stool next to her own, Emmy was half way through her her glass. She scrunched her nose at her friend's silent judgment and took another sip just to spite her. "Getting better." A crooked smile betrayed her though and she leaned her head to touch Beth's shoulder. "Happy you're here."

And it was true. A month ago, if you'd told Emily Flickwick she'd end up giving up her time once a week for another person outside of her familyl (half the time at her own request) she'd have laughed in your face. Now, well, she was grateful that their allotted time wasn't interrupted by Beth being called in.

"I'm surprised you're not working." Emily admitted sitting up straight again.

Beth glanced down upon the head resting on her shoulder, an amused smile creeping onto her lips. Snorting, she gave Em's hair a few rough - but definitely well-intentioned – pats, emitting a near silent snicker. “Your hair smells nice, if you were wondering,” she noted with a loud, intentional sniff, taking in the scent (which was hard to ignore anyway, seeing as it was practically up her nose). She was hoping that, by not mentioning her 'happy you're here' comment then maybe she could ignore the reason why the other witch was stressed out in the first place. Maybe they could just, you know... move on to other things? And yet... what would they talk about if not the current events that were on the periphery of both of their lives? She was ignorant to think it wouldn't come up. Greeting the barkeep, she ordered herself a pint. She was half inclined to order two up front. She had a feeling she'd need at least that much.

Emily's next comment was answered with a rather loud, disgruntled sigh. “Yeah,” she remarked, her top lip quirking upward a touch – not with a smile, but with a sort of disappointed scowl. She gave her head a shake, and her nub of a ponytail bounced behind her. She didn't like that she wasn't working, and the grimace on her face made that more than evident. “Hitwizards are always called to a conflict, but they send in Aurors for the aftermath. We weren't there to stop the mess, so they don't want us hanging around and poking at the evidence, like,” she shrugged, “They didn't want me, anyroad. I'd be more shocked if they did. I don't suppose I'll ever stop feeling like an old good for nothing. I'm beginning to feel right sick of it, isn't it?” The wizard behind the bar caught a glance at her mug and didn't linger for small talk – he left the pint and headed for the hills. And having been in his position, she couldn't even blame him.

She took a good, long drink. It was no secret that Beth wasn't entirely content with her job, and she'd made it clear to Emily herself on more than one occasion. She thought she'd be good at this... and, frankly, she thought she was. Rank and sexism and experience came into everything, however, and only a statue wouldn't have felt discouraged in her place. Plus, she had other things on her mind, and they were certainly coloring her attitude at least slightly. Unfortunately, Emily was going to get the brunt of it this evening.

"Honestly." Emily grumbled as she smoothed and scrunched her hair back into place. There was a fine line between her intentional ruffled style and actually looking like one rolled out of bed without a care in the world. Although, she did have to admit, it did indeed smell good. A thought that hadn't even occurred to her until Beth pointed it out.

The light air didn't last anywhere long enough for Emily's liking and much to her chagrin, it was her own fault. While she hadn't meant anything by her question as to point out that it worked out to her own benefit, she'd gone and knocked over the proverbial can of worms. Again. At some point she'd learn just to keep her mouth shut and chatter about something that had nothing to do with Beth's job, but that was a lesson she'd have to keep studying for the time being.

Emily hummed her disapproval and sympathy around another sip of her wine as she thought up the best way to steer the conversation back to some place pleasant. "Do you want to go out and shout about it like we did on Halloween?"