With all the marvels of magic, why couldn't they make stairs that flattened to a gentle grade?  At the very least, narrow and twisted stairwells could straighten themselves to accommodate bulky, awkward loads.  In retrospect, there probably were moving-day oriented spells and a little bit of research might have turned up some particularly helpful ones.  That kind of research was far too school-oriented and required more forethought than Migs had divested that morning. 

Finally, after spending several months crashing at his Great Aunt's place, Migs had found the perfect flat.  It was cozy and had a bit of an old feel.  Most importantly, it was near a park - an almost nonnegotiable requirement for the erstwhile country boy.  Moving to a city as big and urban as London was proving to be a significant transition - even more so than Salem which was a mere village in comparison.  If it hadn't been for the transition to the city, he might have found his way to living in London sooner.  Until now, he'd been commuting to the Ministry by apparation from his Great Aunt's little farm on the outskirts of Hogsmeade.  His way of tiptoeing into city life.

A few months of commuting and, finally, the need for social interactions had triumphed.  Migs was moving into a flat.  He'd spent the morning moving in the bulk of his belongings and the housewarming gifts from his family.  It seemed like everyone in the extended Nagde family had contributed something.  Even his nieces and nephews had sent pictures and paintings of flat rolling hills, bison and coyotes.  The assortment of things were still staggered in various piles across the main room.  The only things remaining were a box of blankets, rugs and other nicknacks that Migs balanced precariously on his shoulder. 

And the grandest of gifts that had come from his older brother. 

Even with the help of a shrinking charm, the mechanical bull was awkward to get around the stair well.   The contraption also remained a good flight ahead of the young man holding the wand.  There was one set of eyes watching the path in front of the bull: Pazi, Mig's gyrfalcon sat perched upon the bull's leather.  While the bird frequently fluttered its wings to keep its balance, it gave no indication they were on a collision course with one of the building's other tenants. 

It was the weekend, raining, and Elliot was comfy and cozy inside her flat. Just how she rather liked her weekends, really. She threw on an oversize, neutral colored sweater over her dress to keep herself a little warmer against the chilled air that always, somehow, managed to seep into her apartment. She always assumed it was the old windows, maybe the wood floor too. Wiggling her arms through until her hands popped out of the sleeves she then reached up and pulled her hair out of her way and rolling it into a messy bun, though her fringe remained hanging in her face. That she didn't mind.

The sound of the rain against the window panes had long since become therapeutic to Elliot. With a flick of her wand she made the numerous candles burn a little brighter so that the grey and overshadowed sky didn't leave her flat with the same ambiance as outside. With another flick came a thick, medium sized book to her free hand. The title was fading from the cover as well as the spine, but that mattered little. The inside pages were still legible and any other reader could find out within the first few pages the official title and subject.

She had just gotten herself comfortable on her love seat and was about to open up her book to the pages she had left off the day before but paused before she did so. She tilted her head slightly, listening in to the sound of heavy footsteps outside by the stairwell. It was then that she realized that there had been a bit more movement out there than what was usual. What could possibly be going on?

Curiosity eventually got the best of Elliot. Holding her tome to her with one arm she went to the front door of her flat and cautiously opened it, peeking her head out towards the stairwell to see who--or what--it was.

She certainly wasn't expecting a horned creature approaching.

Elliot caught the yell that was escaping her throat, keeping it down and controlling into just a surprised yelp as she backed against the door-frame and clutched her book ever tighter to her, as if it could somehow protect her from this far larger thing in front of her.

The gyrfalcon spotted the young woman first and hopped from the thick leather up to one of the mechanical bull’s horns, his wings lifted to balance himself.  When the young woman yelped, the gyrfalcon flapped his wings and half-lifted himself from his perch,  churping in alarm.  The bird's mischief caught Migs' attention and he glanced up past the bull, spotting the would-be neighbor with the book clutched to her chest. 

"Oh!"  Migs carefully guided the contraption towards the center of the landing, giving the young woman at least a few inches of clearance between her and the large, fake furry mammal.  "Sorry about that!  Moving day and my kin had some interesting notions for housewarming gifts.  They sent me along with just a few things to remind me of home.  Or, things that can serve as conversation starters and clothes racks.  I can't tell which." 

Migs lowered his wand, for the time being and let the box he was carrying drop to the floor.  He'd give himself a few minutes to catch his breath and then he'd finally finagle these last two things into the flat.  That was the easy part.  Then he had to find places for everything and organize.  He'd always had a will-it-cause-anyone-injury-there approach to organizing and he wasn't looking forward to attempting to make the place presentable. 

Once unburdened, he approached the young woman and extended a hand.  "Name's Leonard.  But most just call me Migs.  I'm moving into Number 6 there."  He pointed to the flat door across the hall.  "As, you probably noticed.  Hope I didn't disturb you.  I'll have all this in there and out of your hair before you know it!" 

It took a second for Elliot to see just what this creature was, but somehow it didn't make her feel any better. She could still feel her heart beating a little too quickly inside her chest. Even so, she heaved a sigh, bringing her eyes up and catching sight of the gyrfalcon's flapping then further back to the tall young man who was guiding the contraption up the stairs. She remained with her back to the doorframe to her flat, but relaxed her shoulders and the grasp she had on her book. Had it been open at that moment there would have been no doubt that some pages would have been bent and/or smooshed.

"Interesting, indeed," she replied, agreeing with his comment about his own family's sense of gift-giving. She glanced back down at the mechanical bull and raised an eyebrow at it. She somehow half-expected it to snort at her, but that thought was quickly brushed aside when the young man approached her.

"Name's Leonard.  But most just call me Migs."

Elliot extended her free hand and returned the gesture, shaking his hand. "Elliot Blair. And it was more curiosity than disturbance, really."

Finally looking beyond the bull, Elliot finally took a glance at everything else Migs had on him. The little gyrfalcon once again caught her attention, and she had the sudden desire to try and pet the little creature, but decided against it. Even if it was small and did look cute, it could probably bite off a bit of her finger should it decide she wasn't worth tolerating for attention. Once again her eyebrow rose to show her curiosity. "You from out west? What brings you to England?"

A broad grin spread across Migs' face as he watched Elliot's gaze shift back to the bull.  The young woman seemed to have a good sense of humor, in what appeared to be her own quiet way.  Perhaps that was her normal demeanor; perhaps she was simply quieter in the presence of strange new acquaintances with large bovine-shaped apparatus.  In either case, he'd lucked out on the neighbor front.  And, she was a fellow American!

"Pleasure to meet you," he offered, dipping his head slightly as he shook Elliot's hand. 

By now, the gyrfalcon had grown bored of the proceedings.  Lifting his wings just enough to catch air, the bird glided off the contraption and strutted across the hallway floor through the open door, his head bobbing forward with each stride.  Migs shook his head, dismissing he animal before turning back to Elliot.

"You from out west? What brings you to England?"

"What gave it away?"  Migs grinned, tugging his broad-rimmed hat from the top of the last box and shoving it on his head.  "I'm from the Turtle Mountain area in North Dakota-" Migs drew a rough rectangular shape in the air with his finger, a vague pictorial representation of his home state.  "Center top," he jabbed a finger at the air where the top of the box had been.  "Halfway between Minnesota and Montana, but sitting on Canada.  I suppose whether I'm from out west depends on where you call home.  If you're from Tennessee, yes.  If you're from Nevada, no." 

"I was at Hogwarts for the Tetrawizard Tournament with Salem for my senior year.  There really aren't a lot of opportunities back home for those with magic and it's not like you can go back to rodeo after Salem.  I have a great aunt who's the only other magically inclined member of my family.  She's here in England and, if you've got to be away from home, might as well be near family.  So, I guess I'm following in her footsteps.  I joined the Auror Corps after I graduated." 

"What about you?"  Migs asked, before gesturing towards the open door.   "I know it looks somewhat like a tornado passed through, but do you want to come in for coffee?  Assuming I didn't catch you on your way somewhere."

Elliot felt an easiness about Migs that helped her to relax a bit herself; she could tell that he was good natured, for one. Elliot's mouth finally shifted, the left side of her mouth pulling up into her usual smile.  His putting a typical western hat on his head, completing the look, certainly helped in the feeling of amusement and ease that was developing. She couldn't help but chuckle a little at his own joke of a question.

"Well, amongst other things, this was probably the biggest giveaway," she said, reaching out and tapping the muzzle of the bull with the spine of her book. "And you are pretty far west, in comparison to where I used to live. I'm from Virginia. I used to live in a small, historical town."

She couldn't help but watch as the little gryfalcon bobbed into the open door of Migs's apartment, catching only a glimpse of what had already been brought in before she had peeked own of her own flat. Of course one couldn't expect perfect organization when one was still in the process of moving in. She, herself, had found out that things always look worse before they get better. She was reminded of just how bad her own apartment looked like at times, years ago... His mention of the tournament brought her focus on him again.

"You were in the Tetrawizard Tournament? I heard about that! Well, mostly from families and friends who knew the students participating. Had a lot of people talking at Diagon and Hogsmeade." She certainly wouldn't have expected somebody like Migs to have participated in the tournament, but then again, she wasn't always the best at judging a persons's character and abilities... "And you're going to be an Auror?" she added, raising her eyebrows and crossing her arms across her chest. "You're rather accomplished."

"What about you?"

"I'm a Salem graduate, myself, but that was years ago," she replied, shrugging, nearly shrugging her oversized sweater off her shoulders. "Can't say I've had nearly as...productive a life as you have, when I was younger." She glanced again at the entrance to Migs's flat as she adjusted her sweater to keep it from falling off again, then to the things still out here on the landing, then to Migs himself when he made the offer.

"Better yet, I could help, if you want it," she said. "I'll accept the coffee as my reward." Her lopsided smile grew larger, showing some of her teeth, amused at her own comment. 

"I see you have a perceptive eye for subtle details."  Migs raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, giving the young woman a feigned pensive once-over before nodding towards the bull.  Evidently, his second guess had been fairly accurate.  Elliot's sense of humor wasn't quite as quiet as first impressions made it out to be.  "Ol' Ronnie here is glad to know he wasn't overlooked." 

Migs dropped his arms and resumed his normal relaxed stance, nodding at the contraption that had taken over the entire floor landing.  If Elliot was offering to help, Migs certainly wasn't too proud or stupid to turn it down.  Between the two of them, they could make quick work of getting the thing inside the flat. 

Then, there would be the small task of figuring out where to put the damned thing. 

"If you really don't mind, I'll take you up on that offer.  Consider ample coffee to be the bribe and the reward and, maybe, even pizza."  Migs raised his wand, pointed it at the bull and, with the thing back up in the air, led the way into the apartment.  "Probably more bribe at first, since we've got to find the coffee stuff." 

"Virginia," Migs repeated once he was inside and the bull had been safely settled in a corner.  Everything was finally in the flat.  Nesting could begin in earnest.  He pointed to the pile of assorted boxes, duffle bags and tied bundles.  "I'm sure there's a sense of order, but my mother conducted the packing symphony.  Most things should be pretty obvious, though.  I'm sure you're as skilled at placing things randomly as I am."  Truth was, though he wasn't likely to admit it, his mother and sisters had always handled making home a home.

"Small, historical town in Virginia," he repeated again.  "Is that like moonshine territory?  And, how small is small?  Is it a change-the-population-highway-sign-everytime-someone-is-born small?"  Migs pulled a box towards him and used his wand to slice the tape.  Migs grinned.  Bless his mother; lots and lots of pictures of family and home.  And a bag of picture hangers taped conveniently to the inside of the box flap.  "So, what brought you to London?  Did you come right after Salem?"  Migs slid the box of pictures over to the wall with his foot and, with his wand, started fixing picture hangers to the hall.  "And how did you ever adjust to not being able to see stars?" 

"Can't say I've had nearly as...productive a life as you have, when I was younger."

Migs glanced over his shoulder and grinned.  "When you were younger...you're making me sound like a rascally little whelp.  You can't be that much older than me.  What, twenty two?  Three?" 

Elliot couldn't help but chuckle at his last comment as she followed him into his apartment, that bull leading the way. It really was quite large. Fining a suitable spot for it would prove to be a bit of a challenge. As she strode in she slipped her hand into the sleeve of her sweater, pulling out her wand since Migs was using his own in the process of unpacking as well. "Well, it's good to know I look younger than I am. I'm twenty-nine, actually," she said. She was anticipating any comment on that ranging from "wow" to "whoa" to even an impressed whistle.

She selected the topmost box of a stack that had already been moved in and slid the tip of her wand across the tape, opening its contents. "I lived just outside of Lexington. It is fairly small, but not moonshine territory, nor change-the-population-sign-with-each-new-birth small either," Elliot chuckled, amused at this particular section of Q&A. Giving her wand a swirling motion she watched as the contents of the open box floated up into the air, following the motion of her wand, and then were set gently on the ground. "It's a good place to visit, and a great place for anyone who loves history."

"As for how long I've lived here, I've been in England for a little over three years, actually," she continued as she moved the now empty box aside and began the process of opening up the one stacked below it. Looked like some kitchen things were in this one. Maybe they'd find the coffee sooner than expected. "I'd been studying at Laevenstrome's at the time, but..." Elliot paused, looking for the right words to describe her reasons while avoiding the details. "...then I made some poor decisions, and I wound up here."

Good enough.

"As for adjusting to London, it was the noise that bothered me the most. I remember how I had the hardest time falling asleep for the first few days after I moved here. But, eventually, you get used to it. Or use a sound muffling charm if you just can't bear the noise that night." She continued to rummage through the particular box she was unpacking. From the looks of it, there was no coffee can to be found in this one. Already it was proving to be an elusive prize. Nevertheless, with a wave of her wand she brought the contents out and set them over in the kitchen area of his flat.

"So, are you here because of your Auror training?" she asked. "What made you want to go into being an Auror, anyway?"

Migs glanced over his shoulder and grinned.  While his first guess had placed her as being younger, he wasn’t surprised to hear she was older.  He had enough sisters and aunts and nieces to know such sentiments were dangerous turf.  He was well schooled in keeping his reactions to touchy subjects like age carefully regulated. 

“Lexington.”  Migs repeated.  “So, less moonshine and more mint juleps, eh?”  He turned back to the box at his feet and tugged the rest of the photos free before vanishing the box with his wand.  “The place with all the fancy, fast horses and music - yeah?”  Or, wasn’t that Tennessee?  "I bet it would be fun to visit; I haven’t traveled much outside of North Dakota and Salem.  Aside from the obvious.”   

Salem and then Laevenstrome.  Sounded like a lot of schooling.  Migs nodded his head, impressed, and this time not reluctant to show it.  “And you say you weren’t as productive.  Sounds pretty productive to me,” Migs pointed out.  Recognizing the detail-dodging for what it was, Migs was more than willing to let the conversation topic ease into a different direction.  “What do you do now?” he asked.  "Is it related to what you were studying?"

"As for adjusting to London, it was the noise that bothered me the most. I remember how I had the hardest time falling asleep for the first few days after I moved here."

Migs paused and glanced towards the windows along the far wall.  He actually hadn’t thought about the noise element.  “I hadn’t thought of that,” Migs admitted.  “I suppose everyone doesn’t conveniently go to bed the same time as I do, do they?”  That would take some getting used to.  “Muffling charm.  I’ll have to remember that.  I’ll probably need it.  He wondered if muffling charms could be modified to make particular noises - like customized white noise machines.  Like coyotes.  With the last photo hung in it’s place, Migs pulled the next box off of the already shrinking pile. 

On the down side, no coffee.  On the upside, vinyl records.  Well, that set the next priority. With a grin, Migs pulled the box over to a shelf that currently played pedestal to a record player.  He set a  record down on the player and, with a quick charm, set the turntable to spinning. 

"So, are you here because of your Auror training?  What made you want to go into being an Auror, anyway?”

“I guess I wanted to, mostly after hearing stories my great aunt would tell.  She’d come home every couple of years with stories of traveling the world and all these adventures.  She kept it vague with us non-magical types, of course.  Once she realized I had magic, she started telling me more.  She’d started wizarding school back at the end of World War II and Grindelwald’s era - and fought in both wizarding wars.  She’d tell me stories of all they were seeing at the end of the war and, well, it was hard to imagine going back to ranching.  Even though I do miss it, some days.”   

Elliot smiled, her crooked smile revealing itself fully, amused at Mig's confusion between states of the American South. At least he was keeping to a certain region of the south and not wandering too far out. "Yeah, that's more towards Tennessee. Virginia is more full of colonial history, well, according to Muggle history. There's a lot more magical history to it."

She opened up another box, emptied its contents, and then vanished them to free up space. Looked like some small decorations for the bathroom it seemed. Interesting choice of style, in her opinion, but she wasn't much of a decorator herself, considering how her own flat was sparse in decor and not necessarily the most stylish in choice. Her style, at the time she had gotten such things, was what was cheapest yet half-decent in appearance. She made a face as she realized that it may be coming time for her to properly decorate, thus update, her flat. Maybe she'd get around to that, eventually.

"Well I...I'm working at Flourish and Blotts, have been for the past two years or so," she said as she pulled out the rest of the items within her current box. "Though I don't plan on having that be my career for the rest of my life. I had other plans..."

The ambiance shifted suddenly when Elliot heard music and brought her head up to search for the source. She caught sight of Migs, who had put a record into its respective player and heard the first few beats of music, hearing something older than she expected this young man to listen to. She couldn't help but chuckle at the idea that maybe he really was older than he let on, or maybe had a bit of an old soul to him. As the music played Elliot listened well as Migs told his story of wanting to become an Auror, and as he did so there was a particular part of his story where something finally dawned on her.

"Wait, so are you Muggleborn?" She looked at him with great curiosity and interest now.

Flourish and Blotts…Flourish and Blotts.  “That’s the bookstore, right?” he asked, getting confirmation before moving on to a large but light box filled with woven blankets and wall hangings.  He’d made a few trips to Diagon Alley in the last couple months and remembered passing by the little bookstore.  The wizarding alley was still new turf and Migs was gradually getting the lay of the land. 

Another reference to her past and another vague circumventing of any details.  Migs was careful to keep his attention on his work but his mind circled around this and previous comments.  Was she wanting to talk but wasn’t quite sure she could or should?  They had only just met, after all, and she was about ten years his senior.  Still, were the subtle cues invitations or clear designations of conversational boundaries?   

"Do you think you'd want to resurrect old plans?"  Migs asked, deciding that the safest route was focusing on the future potential of these comments.  Elliot was then free to control how much of the past she included in the answer.  "Or, maybe, there's a new tributary on the same river to explore?" 

"Wait, so are you Muggleborn?"

"I am," Migs confirmed with a grin.  "My family are cattle ranchers, mostly.  Our specialty is breeding rodeo bulls and broncs.  You're looking at the North Central Regional 13 and under PeeWee Bullriding Champion!"  He chuckled and shook his head.  "Many of our ancestors were healers and spiritual guides for our nation.  My aunt has this wild theory that their indicators that more magic runs in our family but it was never formally trained and recognized as magic.  Officially, muggleborn but take it for what you will."

Elliot kept her focus on Migs as he spoke, chuckling at his mention of bull riding. It began to make a little more sense why he had that mechanical one with him now. And from the sound of it he possibly had more magic in him than expected for one being Muggleborn. But, then again, she could tell that he was Native American, and they certainly had a longer history of magic than the rest of the American population.

"Yep, that's the bookstore," she confirmed, smiling. "It's got just about any book on any subject. There tend to be a number of regulars who come by either to buy a new book or just browse. Have you had a chance to take a look inside, yet? You could, truly, spend hours there." Elliot had certainly done her fair share of that, and not just because she was the manager. Over the course of her time there she had honestly spent hours browsing through the books she took care of, gleaning things here and there. Maybe if she kept at it for another decade or so she'd most likely become a fountain of all sorts of information.

"Do you think you'd want to resurrect old plans?"

She went quiet for a moment as she thought over the question, while kneeling down to open yet another box. "I'd like to," she said, "I'm just not really sure what to do in order to get myself back on track." Indeed, Elliot remained unsure about the idea of an actual career, believing that her failing to actually graduate from Laevenstrome's would affect her credibility, thus prevent her from getting something better for herself. "I'll be staying at Flourish and Blotts until I figure something out."

Elliot's crooked smile returned to her face when she found the coffee bag amidst the rest of the items packed into the current box. The noise the bag made at being opened was like a protest at such an action and she brought it close to her, just barely opening the top and breathing in the smell. She made a quiet, pleased sound in her throat at the slightly bitter, yet warm and toasty scent of the beans. She could already imagine how she'd go about making it into her typical morning drink.

"I found the coffee!"

Migs pursed his lips and shook his head in confession.  “I haven’t spent much time in Diagon Alley, really.”  He admitted.  “Or, London, for that matter.  I’m still pretty much a tourist.”  And, there was a lot to get familiar with.  Especially for one whose home town was smaller than most neighborhoods.  “My aunt has a small place outside of Hogsmeade - up near Hogwarts?  I stayed there, initially, when I first started my Auror training.  Just flooed into the Ministry every morning.  It has been a bit of a culture shock,” he admitted.   

“I need to do more exploring - I should stop by sometime.  You can show me the sights!”  He said, with a grin. 

"I found the coffee!”

Migs beamed.  Tea and all the fancy European espresso-y things were fine.  Sometimes, though, you just needed a simple, crappy cup of black dripped coffee.  “Superb.  Halfway there.”  He abandoned his current box and opened another to peer in the top.  "Somewhere amidst all of this is bound to be a stovetop coffee pot.  My mother still hasn’t quite accepted the whole no-electricity thing but she swore she got one that didn’t need plugging in.”

There were only a few more boxes - they were bound to come across the right one, soon.  A box of clothing.  One of hats and boots.  A smaller box of ceremonial items.  One rather small box containing a sparse collection of books and, finally, one last box of kitchen supplies.  Underneath the cast iron skillets and pots was a coffee pot.  Triumphantly, Migs tugged it out and held it out to Elliot. 

Elliot rolled the bag back up, catching another whiff of the beans. "It can take some getting used to, I understand that. I've been in that situation and I was glad to have someone who knew the area show me around too." She shrugged. "It's easy to get used to Diagon Alley. You eventually get to a point where you have the stores you visit moreso than others. That's how it got for me, anyway."

“I need to do more exploring - I should stop by sometime.  You can show me the sights!”

She blinked at him, surprised for a moment at his comment. A moment later her crooked smile had the additional emotions of awkwardness and hesitancy thrown into her expression. "Heh, I suppose I could.  I guess it all depends on your schedule, since you work in the Ministry. It's safe to assume that my hours are a bit more relaxed in comparison to yours, right?"

She took the coffee pot from Migs' hand and got her feet, heading over to the kitchen to get started in actually making the coffee. Just the idea of a nice, hot drink made Elliot feel a little warmer, as if she were already taking sips. "You'll have to let me know when you have some time off so I can show you around," she said as she looked for the remaining items necessary to make the actual drink. Once all collected she got started, measuring the beans and once again enjoying the aroma that escaped from the bag.

A thought came to her a second later as she was preparing the beans. "Do you want anything special for your coffee?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at him. "Like, adding cream or milk?" She paused, a thought dawning on her. "Do you even have anything in your fridge, or cabinets? Or will I have to bring in some from my flat?" She couldn't help but chuckle at all that. If it proved true that Migs was bare of basic food and drink, she would probably laugh more. Good thing she had already done her shopping yesterday.

Migs grinned broadly at Elliot's look of surprise, despite the hesitancy in her expression.  What better way was there to get one's bearings than with someone who had gone through the same transition?  Despite whatever initial reluctance she might have held, Elliot agreed to play tour guide - schedules depending, at least.  That could pose a little bit of a logistical challenge. 

"As the proud office grunt, I am a bit at Level 2's beck and call," Migs admitted, good-naturedly.  "But, they do let me out on occasion.  So they say.  Seems like they give us a decent idea of what our schedule for the week will be at the start of the week.  I'll let you know what the verdict is for the week." 

The prospects of a decent cup of coffee was enough to put the unpacking on hold.  Especially when Elliot started questioning the state of his provisions.  "I have something," he countered in feigned offense.  Her suspicions were quite well-f0unded; his cupboards and fridge were a few packages shy of bare.  He had to maintain his culinary image, though!  Assuming there was one to protect.  He crossed to the cupboards and opened the doors to the only shelf that weren't completely bare, presenting the contents in a manner not unlike the girls who presented prizes on the Price Is Right.  A bag of jerky, a jar of peanut butter, a box of gummi fruit snacks and a honey bear constituted the extent of his provisions. 

"The fridge is bare.  I will have to go shopping," Migs admitted.  "Have you tried electronics in this building?  I never realized how much I'd miss having a microwave until going the last few months without one.  It represents three quarters of my cooking skill."  He'd never actually had to cook for himself - not regularly, at least.  He knew how to through something on a grill and that was about it.