Dusk was the perfect time of day as far as Atticus was concerned. It brought about the best colors in the sky met with the turnover into nighttime, his second favorite time of day. Life as an information broker had certainly proven to require a lot of long nights, so he was quite accustomed to starting the work day at dusk.

Nobody in particular had called for Atticus that night, so he decided to head to the Demon's Head for a few drinks. At the very least it gave him something pleasurable to pass the time with. At the most, he'd meet a new face or hear a new bit of information that would prove useful to his business. He strolled through the dimly lit alleyway towards his usual haunt, shivering just a bit as the cold nipped at his exposed skin. He quickened his step when he turned a corner and the bar came into view.

He passed a pair of brutish looking men as he approached the establishment. It was no surprise to see this type in Knockturn, but he nevertheless noted their faces and their determined walk. After a moment he reached his destination and went inside.  Given that it was a crisp weekend evening, the Head was reasonably crowded. It was occupied by the usual mix of residents and otherwise shady characters, but in greater number than usual.

"Double whiskey." He said as he took a seat at the bar.

Lochlainn had been taking it a little easy today, as easy as he could, while also studying hard. He had alot of reading to do and going through several different potion books, cross referencing notes he had with those he's found reported on findings of potions from academic papers. It sort of mattered to him considering it was his lively hood, he was happy with his business, of course he was. However his main money making scheme was at risk and he may now be at war, after an incident with Baba Yaga the previous day.

He wasn't getting far though, at the very least his Wolfsbane seemed to be done perfectly, there wasn't any differences between what was described in the books and what he was making, unless the books were wrong with them themselves making it incorrectly. Or it was the slightest change, he had been selling at specific portion sizes, if nothing else he'll reduce the price down and sell in larger doses. By that chance he'l get the market on it hopefully and it may work properly, if its weaker then he just needs to gives more. As long as the Ministry weren't onto him with the coins. But they still had a murderer to catch.

In his quest to find more places to get hammered at, he decided to venture into Knocturn, passing by the brutish people on his way in he took in the place. It was...a place certainly. He didn't care for the guys at the front, although he may not be skilled in hand to hand, he still has the fair amount of muscle to be able to knock the lights out of them if they tried anything, plus once he gets some alcohol in himself he'd be unstoppable.

He sat down to yet another dour seeming person, asking for a double whiskey. Loch pulled a few sickles out and placed them down. "Pint of dragon scale for myself, double shot of Firewhiskey for myself and him." He gestured to the other person. "Give him something better to drink. Unless he can only handle muggle drinks."

Atticus raised and eyebrow and turned his head towards the man who had just contradicted his order. While he never turned down a free drink, he couldn't help but take slight offense to the notion that muggle whiskey was in some way inferior to the magical sort. Nonetheless, he nodded towards the stranger and smiled.

"I'll have you know I can handle my drink, muggle or otherwise." He said wryly as he took the drink from the barkeep. He took a sip and considered it's taste and smokiness. "That being said, I do enjoy a nice firewhiskey." He added as he turned his body a bit towards the stranger.

"Atticus Roark's the name, information's the game." He said as he extended his hand. This wasn't an unusual happening at the Head, in fact this was the very reason he found himself at the bar that night. While it was nice to relax and have a drink, spending his evening here provided excellent opportunities to meet new contacts.

He looked the person over a few times, he was only a few years younger, or so he seemed. But that could mean anything really couldn't it. Seemed a bit cocky, a little bit arrogant, who introduced themselves by name immediately? Especially an information broker. Wasn't the point of that to keep information? He was doing a better job at it then Atticus was right now just by not telling his name immediately.

"Knox Greyfriar." He said casually before downing his shot and gesturing for another with some more money sliding across the bar. Loch rubbed at his face and then turned back to the kid as he lifted his pint. He had an accent, it sounded familiar somewhat, he looked a bit familiar, could of known him at Hogwarts, unlikely as Loch kept to himself alot as he worked. But it was nonetheless possible for it.

"If you're an information broker, why would you need for me to be introduced to you." He took another sip. "Also why are you revealing yourself immediately." Then another sip. "Also isn't it bit reckless to just introduce yourself to anyone?" One last sip. "What poor sod get's named Atticus?" He placed the empty pint glass down.

Atticus raised his eyebrows dramatically as the stranger introduced himself as Knox Greyfriar. It was an obvious if not sardonic joke, but he let it be. It wasn't uncommon for people to be touchy about identities in Knockturn. He took another sip of his drink and turned his head to its side and took the stranger in for a moment. He looked familiar, but he certainly hasn't been around Knockturn for long. Atticus had lived here for a few years at this point and as his business grew, his knowledge of the alley's inhabitants grew with it.

He chuckled at fake Knox's question regarding his introduction. The lad was certainly new to the alley if he hadn't heard of Atticus. "Most people around here know me by name if not by face. I have nothing to hide." He said simply, as it was true. He had contacts in all walks of life and for the most part he made no effort to obfuscate his identity. He didn't make it a habit to commit much actual crime - it was much easier to remain clean and just a purveyor of knowledge.

"My muggle mother had a penchant for literature. It is what it is." He said, shrugging as he did. "There are certainly worse names to be had, wouldn't you say?" He added, tipping his glass towards the stranger. His name had irked him from time to time but Hogwarts certainly had a handful of oddities as far as names were concerned.

After a moment, Atticus set the glass back down on the bar and reached into his front pocket to pull out a red cigarette. He put it between his lips and snapped his fingers lightly near the tip and it was lit. Wisps of red smoke began to spiral from the tip as he exhaled. "Now tell me, stranger. What brings you to the Head tonight?"

"They probably know you by name due to it being ridiculous." Lochlainn O'Keeffe said using the fake name of Knox Greyfriar. It seemed both Muggles and Wix were capable of coming up with the oddest sounding things possible. To which he turned and sipped his new double Firewhiskey shot in The Demons Head, in Knockturn Alley. Where someone would come up with the name Atticus was frankly ridiculous to him.

"What brings me to the Head is to-" He stopped himself quickly, that thought was not one he wanted to cross since an awkward encounter with Tessa. So maybe something more grounded. "To get hammered and forget about Hags." He finished his reply and the shot.

"And to get away from the damned children, can you imagine how noisy they are in that castle. Always constant drama there." He jested without a hint of humour in his tone, the person obviously knew he wasn't the Headmaster of Hogwarts, but he might aswell play around with it while he can.

"What brings you here?" He asked while looking idly into the crowd of people around, with his luck of running into former people from Hogwarts there must be someone here to save him. Or atleast the kids mother somewhere to tell him it's past his bedtime.

Atticus sipped his whiskey with a wry smile on his face. He surely was a fan of meeting new people, as it helped him with his career - but he also thoroughly enjoyed a witty back and forth with a new face.

"Names aside, Greyfriar, I suggest you read a bit more. My name might not be so shocking if you were well read. Muggle literature has it merits, wouldn't you say?" He remarked, as he tipped his glass towards the stranger and winked. He turned his head to the side at the stranger's half-sentence and smirked at his recovery. "Ah yes, the Hags. I don't blame you for wanting to forget." He said with a mock shiver. He then turned and motioned for two more doubles from the barkeep as he drank the rest of his first.

"Here's to forgetting, then." Atticus chuckled as he slid the stranger's new drink towards him. At best, he would loosen up 'Knox' and potentially get some more concrete information about him out. At worst, he'd make a new drinking buddy which was never a bad thing. "As a formerly noisy child, I resent that - but then again, you did expel me. Perhaps I have more to resent you for than just that." He added with another wink.

"What brings me here? Oh, the usual. I've got nothing to do on this fine evening and the drink calls to me, as it's always done. I'm sure it'll be a problem in a few years, but until then I will enjoy the folly of my youth." Atticus jested as he took another sip and puffed at his crimson tobacco.

He raised his glass to the forgetting and then sipped at it, he should really save his money for next time there is a party or something, he had a habit of spending an absurd amount on alcohol, although he didn't think Tess or Fauna cared much at him spending so much on their drinks. This kid however he wasn't likely to spend a huge amount on, he felt bad at ordering him a drink now with how he was annoying him so far.

"I evict a great many brats, and those full moons really play havoc with my memory lets say." He said with a slight inflection of annoyance in his voice, he wasn't going to let up at this was he? If he was an information dealer and frequenter of pubs he must know not to be so annoying right?

"Alright, say my name was Loch, would that really mean anything to you? After all everyone knows I'm not a thousand ear old werewolf." He finished his firewhiskey and put it down, gesturing to the bartender for another couple of drinks for himself, if he had to put up with Atticus next to him he might need all the drinks he can.

Atticus let out a large hack and a chuckle at Loch's comment about brats and moons. It was interesting to him that the now-named stranger would be so open about his affliction. He'd certainly met a handful of werewolves and other unfortunate sort during his time as a broker, but they were usually more low key about their status. Nonetheless, it didn't bother him in the slightest. He pitied the wolves but like any decent person he didn't think poorly of them.

"Loch eh? Might you hail from the great island of Ireland?" He smiled as he took another sip. "I was born in Kenmare myself. Though it's been awhile since I've been back. I now live in Knockturn with the best of 'em." He added as he gestured broadly at the bar's inhabitants. "Can't think of a cozier place, if you can get past the mild grime."

He took a moment to take another draw of his tobacco, which incidentally had a bit of gillyweed mixed in. Not enough to get blasted, but it was a nice augmentation to the effects of alcohol. He exhaled slowly as he thought. "The name doesn't mean much to me, no. Can't say I've heard of you. That might be less of slight on my talent and more a compliment of yours." He said after a moment.

"Tell me Loch - what do you do? Other than drink whiskey on the weekends and pose as Greyfriar." He asked as he grabbed his next glass.

"Yeah, Dublin." He replied in a slightly vexxed tone, he wasn't really one who wanted to talk about family origins, or early history, especially one who claims to be an information broker but seems to loudmouth himself and insist he's this big shot. Who wants to live in Knockturn? It wasn't this great place, if Diagon was the heart of the magical world in the UK then Knockturn was the stomach, alot of bad reactions and waste all mixing together.

He lived in Knockturn sure, but he really didn't want to be here, and he wouldn't consider anyone in Knockturn as great, still too many dodgy people, some he is sure are from the war, Mundungus Fletcher is probably still around somewhere skulking around trying to flog something he shouldn't have.

"I work in potions." Is all he replied to the question of his job, its all he really wanted to reply with, after all, what he was doing was sort of, kind of, very illegal. Especially the wolfsbane, ESPECIALLY if it was faulty like he had been told by the hag in his window.

"Mostly getting by as I'm hoping on getting alot of money to live a nice life out in Tahiti or Australia or something." Likely Australia, its warm, nice, strong alcohol, lots of magical stuff, although Kangaroos were scary, he wasn't sure if he could handle the Kangaroos.

Atticus let out a laugh at Loch's irritation at his question. "Well it's nice to know I'm drinking with a fellow Irishman. I'm from Kenmare myself." He said casually, swinging the glass in his hand and tipping his head a bit as he did. He raised an eyebrow at the mention of potions. His questions were finally getting him somewhere - so this was a man who lived in Knockturn and brewed potions. That could mean a number of things but it would unwise to jump to conclusions this early in the process. At any rate, it was nice to have a bit more information about the man across the table. He sipped from the new glass.

"Very interesting. Do you have a shop nearby, mayhaps?" He asked, arching his eyebrow a little more as he did. He wouldn't as anything off the bat - Loch knew he was an information broker, attacking him with questions would just cause further irritation.. Nonetheless, knowing a potioneer was always useful. There were always ways of convincing do-gooders to skirt the line from time to time.

"Ah, yes..." Atticus mused as he puffed on his cigarette. "The invisible hand eh? Money." He stated with a smirk. He chose to stop here and let silence do the rest of the talking. If this man wanted to escape and make his way halfway across the world, he'd certainly need a good amount of coins. This suggested that Loch was already dealing in illegal potions or he would likely be easy to persuade in doing so.

Mayhaps, mayhaps. Bloody, mayhaps. Who was this kid, who even says words like that?

He was saying he was Irish also, he must of been slapped alot for saying things like mayhaps as a younger child. As for the shop location, it was none of the persons business. This is perhaps one of the most delusional people he's met, he's speaking as if he is some sort of book character, or acting like he was from a story, his life and words written down, he supposed information brokers read alot and figured they were cool and suave, didn't work with him however.

He looks at the James Bond wannabe. "The invisible hand is going to leave a visible print on your face if you don't get to why you're really bothering me with this." He said sternly, this was not good drinking talk, good drinking talk was something you can do while drinking, like debating the best quidditch team, or about how your boss got turned into a duck. Dodgy business was a wine drinking, not proper drinking.

"So far all you've said is you're an information broker, why should I believe you, why should I trust you with anything."

Atticus was admittedly taken aback at the abrupt hostility of his drinking partner. He supposed he was being a little too forward, perhaps obnoxiously so with his questions. He did have a tendency to let the Ravenclaw inside him take over when he was probing for information. He noted that he needed to review his methods at a later time as he took another sip of drink and puff of tobacco before responding.

"I can give you some references if you don't believe me." He said a little too sternly. He was too prideful at times - the alcohol didn't help. "I assure you I'm good at what I do. Part of that involves knowing the right people." He began as he sat his drink down and leaned in. "What would you say if I told you I know some people who might be interested in... less than legal potions?"

"I'll tell you to get legitimate potions. You think anyone is stupid enough to openly talk about brewing illegally." A busy bar was never a good place to talk about these things, why would you openly go after that stuff, he thought his shop was dangerous enough, let alone with him openly advertising to buy and sell illegal potions in public, if he was an information broker then why would he be so clumsy with it.

"If anyone is crazy enough to do such a thing, they wouldn't want it discussed in public, ever think of that? Knockturn isn't safe for anyone." Why would you trust anyone in Knockturn, of course they'd sell you out if it meant money to them or making them safer.

Its exactly what Loch would do also. if it meant immunity and more money he'd sell out other illegal brewers that he knew. It wouldn't ever get to that point, but it could potentially give him a better life or get him out of trouble if needed.

Atticus chuckled in an attempt to diffuse the situation. He didn't know if Loch was a straight shooter or not, but he'd found that in most cases the denizens of Knockturn had their hand in something less than savory. "I wasn't asking about illegal brewing, I was just posing a question." He said casually as he took another sip of whiskey.

"That being said, you'd be surprised at what people say in public - particularly at this establishment." He said as he gestured around the room. "Rumors fly around about a lot of people in this neighborhood. It would be rude to assume they're all true. Some of them might even be about you." He added with a mischievous wink. Of course he hadn't heard anything about this man, but he didn't know that.

"I take it by your reaction that you're an upstanding citizen then. A good bloke? One whose never dabbled in nefarious means?" He asked playfully as he stamped out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray and leaned back. "If that's the case, then the only use I have for you is a good drinking partner. Next round's on me." He said as he signaled to the barkeep that they needed another round.