February 3rd 1987 - Death & Co, London

The game was cruel, a sort of hazing ritual to see who could hack it in the Werewolf Capture Unit. Tonight, it was Bruce’s turn.

At 2:15am, Bruce found herself stood outside the back of Death & Co, her wand out as she scanned for a point of entry. The curly haired nineteen-year-old was completely alone in the back alley. It was practically silent, most sane people sleeping soundly in their beds. Clearly, Bruce Ballentyne wasn’t sane. It was winter, February. Ice was forming on the ground and the windows, but the red head stood in a pair of knee length cargo shorts, boots and a fleece. Her wild hair was free, blowing in the wind.

Deciding that none of the windows in the back were fit for purpose, Iona rounded the building once more and glanced around. Selecting her window of choice, she pulled her wand from her pocket and tapped it gently against the pane of glass. Nothing.

“Coc oen.” The welsh witch swore. Clearly these windows were protected from intruders. She glanced around again, spotting a window a little higher. A small rectangular one. No one would think to protect the little windows that only a skinny so and so could slip through. But how to get up there…

Iona wasn’t a gymnast or an athlete, but she was light and she was quick. Without much thought or consideration, she backed up against the opposing wall and took a run, jump, kicked the wall to push herself up, grabbed on and scrambled. Within a moment, the witch was hanging from the window ledge but had rather uncomfortably scraped and blooded her knees and elbows against the brick work. Still, she dragged herself up, muttered her spell, and sighed in relief when the glass completely vanished.

It took a considerable amount of upper body strength and exertion to drag herself up and slip through the window, but with a lot of huffing and puffing, Iona managed it, tumbling through and landing in a heap on the floor.

Satisfied that she’d at least made it inside, Bruce started to pick herself up off the floor. She barely moved her knees when the wand tip touched her head. The witch immediately froze, trying to divert her eyes up but not daring to move any further.

“Did I climb through the wrong window?” She asked quietly. She wasn’t a threat. Was the wand handler?

Zora had just turned twenty-one and was three weeks into her new job as bartender at a posh Diagon bar. It was a step-up from her previous job at a different less-posh Diagon bar. And the one before that, sorting owls for a private Floo repair service. She'd solo'd the Tuesday - shit night of the week to work - and had nearly finished packing it in when she heard a noise in the restaurant. Someone was out there. Zora narrowed her eyes and set her jaw. Not this time.

She moved quickly. The restaurant part was dark but a shaft of unfiltered night light pointed a great big arrow at the intruder. Some witch dressed for hiking, from what Zora could tell in the few seconds before she leveled her wand down at the mess of curly hair.

"You have no idea," she replied cooly. "Lumos"

Zora's wand tip flared to life and the glare washed over the witch on the floor. Oh. Oh. She was young. Fit. And that hair.

"We're closed," she said with less of an edge, and flipped her wand up so it wasn't shining directly in the other's face.

A witch’s voice. Calm, clearly not shaken by the late-night break in. Bruce wasn’t sure if that meant a good thing, that she was in no danger, she could take what she’d come for and go. Perhaps, however, it meant that the cool calm witch knew full well that she could ‘take her’, and Bruce would be going to St Mungo’s or Level 2. She had just broken in to a private property, after all. Even a few ninja skills weren’t going to protect her from a well-aimed hex while she was crouched on the floor.

The bright light almost blinded the werewolf hunter, who squinted and looked away.
They were closed. Stating the obvious.
“Yep, I don’t tend to vault through a window when there’s an open front door.” She replied calmly, none of the other witch’s bite. If she was going to be hexed, it would have happened by now, wouldn’t it? Not that she had much experience of that. She was just taking a wild guess.

Very slowly, Bruce turned her head to look up at the witch now that the light was no longer directed at her face. She could just about make out a shadow in the glare of light, no more. Young voice. Must have been some solo staff member locking up for the night. Bruce should have given it another hour or so to make her move.

With the grace and care of someone accustomed and adept at trying not to startle large dangerous creatures, Bruce raised her hands in the air, loosely gripping her wand. She started to stand, twisting around to see the witch who had stayed a little too late at her job.

“That window, there’s no ward on it.”

Zora watched as the window-slipper stood up slowly and Zora found herself staring. She was not at all what she would imagine a sneak-thief would look like. And, well, she wasn't very good. Spilling herself through a window? Simple if not finessed.

She was informed that the window wasn't warded. Zora looked up at it. It was one of those smaller, transom-style windows and it would take someone particularly agile to make it through. Zora clicked her tongue and shrugged. Made sense, actually, that Mr. Amherst hadn't bothered to ward it. Maybe now he might. 

"Well..." Zora snuffed the light on her wand. "Since you went to all this trouble and spilled your arse into my bar, might as well have a drink."

She backed away a few steps then turned and walked across the room to the bar where she lit a lamp.

"I'm Zora. What's your drink?"

It was with confusion that Bruce watched the witch walk away. Had she just been offered a drink as well? Not much fuss was made over the window or the break in. It was deeply perplexing. With a frown, and her now lowered hands, the young werewolf hunter followed towards the bar. Her steps were light, as if still wishing not to alert anyone. That was definitely too late.

As the lamp lit the area, Bruce was able to get a better look at the witch she’d apparently not actually startled. She was young, slim, pretty. Her black bushy hair framed a face that could clearly be so pretty and friendly but had the potential to be extremely expressive. Wand still in her lowered hand, Bruce approached and pulled herself up onto a stool.

“White wine.” She said, smirking. “The stuff that’s so cheap it tastes like it’s going to strip your insides down.” Cheap wine for someone that made very little money and lived in a crappy bedsit. Apprentice werewolf hunters weren’t paid much. Bruce had always imagined it was the belief that half of them wouldn’t last so it didn’t matter. It didn’t seem to pay so well putting your life on the line every month.

Curiously, Bruce watched the other witch. Zora, her name was. “Zora, I just broke in. Are you sure you should be talking about my arse and offering me a drink? Are you hitting on me or keeping me here until Law Enforcement arrive?” Clearly, there were no other options. Iona glanced to the locked doors that led out onto Diagon Alley. “I wasn’t here to steal anything, if that’s any consolation. I’m being hazed. I think we’d both agree, I don’t have a future in night-time robbery. I left something behind. Or, rather, my boss left something. For me to find. Hazing.”

Zora laughed at the other witch's order in spite of herself. Breaking in on her shift had been a real dick-move and Zora wasn't just going to let that pass without comment. For some reason, the intruder didn't seem particularly threatening which was lucky for her, else Zora would have hexed her right off. Maybe it was finding her on the floor, maybe because she was a witch, maybe that hair - who knows, but she seemed more like a wily street cat than a proper burglar.

To find the shitty wine, Zora had to crouch down to the most bottom shelf and dust off the bottle. She also pulled out a mid-shelf bourbon and began pouring them into their respective glasses, keeping an eye on the witch.

"Are you sure you should be talking about my arse and offering me a drink? Are you hitting on me or keeping me here until Law Enforcement arrive?"

Zora shrugged and leaned forward on the bar. She lifted her glass to her lips. "We'll see."

Wait, she was being hazed? What in the world kind of organization hazed its newbies via breaking and entering?

"Where the hell do you work?"

We’ll see. Bruce couldn’t help but smile. Zora’s expression gave nothing away, which made it a great deal trickier to guess. The prospect of being hit on? That was nice. Fun. Law Enforcement? Not so fun. But if it was the law enforcement option, Zora would be a hell of a lot shiftier, right? She even gave her a drink. Who the hell gave an intruder free alcohol?

Alcohol tainted by impending law enforcement or not, Bruce took the glass of wine and had a long sip. She’d earned it. Rather, would have earned it had she actually succeeded in her silent break in and retrieval.

When Zora asked where she worked, Iona’s brows rose.

“That depends, Zora.” she smirked, glancing over the other witch. “Are you hitting on me or is Law enforcement on its way?” Because, of course that mattered. Bruce was giving no information if she was about to get into trouble. It’s not like she did much wrong.

“I chase monsters. Big scary furry monsters.” she smiled, a cheeky smile. “So, they haze the rookies. So, I’m here.” she pushed herself up from the stool and glanced around. “Seen a pocket watch anywhere, Zora?”

"I should turn you in. Proper rude of you to break in my third night closing down," Zora said with a cock of her head. "Trying to get me sacked. You think you're better'n me?"

It was hard to keep a smile on her face. It was also hard to keep from staring, trying to eke every little thing from the witch's face - what she was thinking, what she was thinking, if she was amenable to the flirting option. Zora wasn't exactly loud and proud about her woman-love, which made her either swing and miss with too-subtle, self-defeating attempts at pick-ups, or too shy to even try. This time it was probably the former, but she just wasn't the soppy sappy type to smother someone with googly eyes and giggles.

Big scary furry monsters? Zora furrowed her brows. Did she mean werewolves? Bit of nasty language, if so. Signs pointed to werewolf hunter, but maybe some other magical creature tracker.

"And no, no pocket watch. But you can check the lost property." She directed her wand to fetch it over from the the back office where Zora had been counting out the night's take when she'd been interrupted. She did hope that even though she threatened to call the MLE, she hadn't yet. In fact, she'd been downright hospitable.

Her third night closing up. Iona felt just a little bit bad. They all had to work, didn’t they? Poor Zora was just locking up after a night of patrons. There all alone and unsafe. Bruce, far too eager to please and show off to her superiors, had willingly broken in, climbing through a window. Her knees her and so did her ego. No one should have seen her fall in a heap on the floor, especially not Zora of Few Words.

“Better than you?” The welsh witch asked, surprised. “You’re not the one who just squeezed her arse through a window to find a missing pocket watch, Zora.” One of them here was an idiot, and it wasn’t the witch who hadn’t landed on the floor. No Law Enforcement. That was a relief, at least. And Iona certainly liked that she knew more about Zora than Zora did her.

Even more of a surprise than the drink, Zora sent the lost property box gliding over to land on a nearby table. Iona grinned brightly and turned back to the bartender.
“They’re only monsters once a month.” She told her new friend before digging into the box. A few hats had been left behind. People always forgot their hats. One grotesque red one in particular, the witch pulled out and placed atop the red hair that clashed. “It’s a dangerous job. So, they try to scare the rookies. Can’t handle climbing through a window, you’re not going to tackle a fully-grown werewolf, are you?” She spun around, smirking at Zora. “I didn’t know they’d planted a cute bartender in here. It’s not my birthday for a couple of weeks.”

Okay, now Zora couldn't help but scoff a laugh. Any doubt about what this was becoming. She took a big swig of the whiskey. It was hard to write off the callous language about werewolves. I mean, Zora understood - werewolves were dangerous, especially when they broke the law. But they weren't monsters or dogs or whatever people called them. They were cursed. Then again, Zora knew that law enforcement sometimes leaned in that direction just to cope with the danger.

But that smile. Zora took a breath to push down butterflies. No way she was putting any of those providence-unknown hats. Clearly she wasn't as brave as the burglar.

"So, what's your name?"

C'mon.

More hats. The odd scarf. A coin purse with no coins in it. A pair of boxer shorts (Iona used her wand tip to fling those on the floor). A broken fragment of mirror.

No pocket watch.

With the contents of the lost property box spread across the table the floor, Bruce, hands on her hips and still wearing the ridiculous red hat, turned on her heel to look once more at Zora.

“Bruce.” She paused, picking up her wine and taking a gulp. “But…If you still want to talk about my arse, you can call me Iona.” It was strange, to make comments so openly to a woman, but why else would Zora have given her a drink if she wasn’t such a way inclined? Iona had got it wrong before. She’d got it wrong several times. The embarrassment wasn’t going to stop her trying, though. If it did, she’d never have any fun.

Leaving the chaos of strewn lost property items, Iona withdrew her wand once more from the deep pocket of her shorts and made her way to the other side of the bar area.
“They’ll have hidden it, see. Help me look? Maybe then I’ll teach you how to climb through a window like a really crap ninja.” Would the ninja reference be lost of Zora of Few Words?

Bruce? Zora hadn't expected that. When she supplied 'Iona' Zora went on to assume Bruce was the surname. Not an uncommon thing for units like the WCU to bark each other's last name at each other in camaraderie. Zora had been 'Roh' on the Quidditch team.

Iona (Zora decided to go with that) made a mess of the abandoned junk and then started her search for the planted pocket-watch.

"There's this fantastic little number called Accio. Dead useful," Zora said turning to watch Iona. She didn't yet make a move to help. She rather wanted to see what this green werewolf hunter planned to do. But, feeling a little helpful, she added, "I doubt they would've made their way to the kitchen or office. Are they a brains or braun lot? Like, you think they've made it a pun or just fixed it under a table?"

Now that she started thinking about it, she was getting that urge to find it. Find it for the win. Find it to impress Iona. She turned around to face the wall of bottles, skimming the labels for some kind of wordplay.

At the mention of Accio, Iona grinned. She felt, then, as if Zora had already answered her next question herself. Brains or brawn? The bartender clearly presumed it was the latter. At least, she clearly thought that Iona was the latter. To an extent, it was true. Iona had always done better at the physical aspects of school and work. She didn’t like sitting at a desk and reading or writing. She liked doing. Did that make her more brawn than brains? Her impulsivity probably pushed her in that direction, for sure. But she had brains, too. She’d gotten a fairly decent set of NEWTs last year, after all.

As if to prove a point, Iona raised her wand and clearly cast “Accio pocket watch.” Nothing happened; not even a little jolt anywhere. She looked back at Zora and shrugged as if to say ‘told you so’. “You can have both. Brains and brawn. Look at me.” Granted, not much intelligence was demonstrated in climbing through a window in the middle of the night.

Under a table; that was too obvious. Regardless, Iona ducked down, peering under a few, shaking her head.
“Surely you saw them in here earlier, Zora. WCU crowd are pretty hard to miss.” Loud ruckus adrenaline seekers enjoyed a drink and they needed to let most know about it. “Where did they sit? Did they eat? Did they use the loos? Give me something, Zora.”

Zora turned back around and swirled round her cup of whiskey, moving it in little circles on the bartop. An item unresponsive to Accio was either locked up somewhere with a lot of padding or had one of those anti-summoning spells on it. You did have to try, though. Imagine, then turning the place upside down at all hours only to mutter a firstie spell and have the thing popping up from a knothole in the floor.

"Oh, right... " On a Tuesday, it didn't take much to be tagged a rowdy crowd. "I know the ones. An excess of leather and keen to take advantage of tonight's special."

The chalkboard named the lower cost of flavored martinis. If Zora had to make another citrus rind twirl again, she'd probably die.

"There, end of the bar. Four of them. Big lout with a big beard, set of sisters who spoke in unison, and a rangy George Michael look-a-like. Don't seem like the types who'd have a nice timepiece between them."

“Bingo!” Iona span around, pointing at Zora. She was grinning brightly, clearly amused by the description. “The Toadspawn twins! Both dressed like they raided a blacksmith.” Her two female colleagues (Toadspawn was not their actual surname) took the idea of sporting silver as protection to a whole other level. Iona half expected them to get medieval style armour especially made for them one full moon. Perhaps she should put a bet on it.

“Then you’ve got Big Murph. Bit Irish brute with amazing beard game.” If Iona were a man, she’d have totally had beard envy. As she spoke, she made her way over to the end of the bar and started to pull the stools out. “He’s the one that took the watch. It’s his boss’. My boss’ boss’ favourite pocket watch.” She was talking a lot, she knew this. But she just didn’t seem able to stop. “My boss’ boss has a favourite pocket watch.” Who the hell had a favourite pocket watch?!

Wine was placed on the bar and Iona slipped her hand under the lip, fingers carefully tracing the underside of the wood until she felt something round and metallic. Her grin grew much larger as she gave a pull and freed the timepiece.

“I could kiss you!” Bruce announced gleefully as she lifted the watch up by its silver chain to examine.