Outfit

Liadán generally was at some sort of social function on Friday nights, spending time with the social elite of the wizarding world, schmoozing it up with the important people and being nothing less than polite to those she considered beneath her station. A lady was never rude to people in public, and as a businesswoman she had learned the you could never tell who might prove to be an important asset in the future.

This Friday night, however, was different. She had not received an invite to attend a party or to dine with anyone, and she intended to use the free time to do a bit of shopping. Liadán knew that lurking on the streets of Knockturn Alley too late in the evenings might not be safe, and as such she had decided to stop there first. Afterward she would drop into Diagon Alley to get a few things she needed for the office (quills, ink, etc.) before returning back home to Ireland.

The petite woman carried herself with confidence as she exited a small shop in Knockturn, package wrapped in brown paper tucked securely in an inner pocket of the white cloak she wore over her dress. Her wand was tucked in the same pocket, easy to get to should she need it. Liadán had faith, however, that so long as she looked like a woman who belonged and would take no nonsense, that she would not be bothered.

She paused by a window, tilting her head as she examined a necklace that was resting on some blue velvet. It was a beautiful piece, sparkling with diamonds and emeralds- her two particular favorites. It looked very old, something that likely had been an heirloom at one point in time. Liadán also had a feeling that it must be cursed, otherwise it would be sold in this particular shop.

"I wonder how difficult it would be to remove whatever curse that thing has on it," Liadán mused aloud, tapping her chin and smiling lightly. If the curse was easy enough to lift, perhaps it would make a nice additive to her jewelry collection. And oh, wouldn't it be marvelous if whoever had left it here recognized it when she wore it, and were eaten up with jealousy that she had figured out how to make it wearable. Necklaces of such beauty and craftsmanship were not very common. She pressed a hand gently against the glass, a look of greed in her mismatched eyes. Oh, she wanted that pretty piece, and she wanted to fix it, because it would go perfectly with her collection.

It was a crisp Friday night in early September. Normally, Altair would be in his office slash apartment living room doing paperwork for sick animals, ordering more supplies, or calculating the profits. Tonight, however, he had been out drinking, celebrating for the heck of it, with friends in Knockturn Alley. Sure, the place wasn't exactly a lively location in the wizarding world, but his friends thought they'd rattle the roads a little. He even got all dressed up for the occasion, as did everyone else. Taking a break from the fun, he leaned in to the closest person and whispered, "I'm gon' to take a breather." Coming back, he stepped outside the public house he was in and pulled out a pack of cloves.

He lit one, settled against the outside wall, and stared up at the sky. It was a clear evening, stars fully lit and bright, with a breeze going. There weren't many people out, but that was typical of Knockturn Alley, so he had no reason to think otherwise. His eyes lingered as he started people watching. A bell tinkered as a young lady, not much younger than was, exited a shoppe across from where he was. She was dressed in gold and beige, and her face was familiar. He watched her as she walked and stopped at a window, placing her hand on the glass.

Slowly, he walked up behind her, standing far enough away to not be noticed in the glass. It was rather creeper-like, but he was just wondering what she had noticed. It was a beautiful necklace. As she looked it over, she spoke aloud, probably not noticing she had done so. He smiled and walked up closer to her. "Well, I'd say you could ask the owner of the shoppe." He let out a drag of smoke from his clove. "They would usually know how to do it."

Liadán had heard the footsteps behind her, and had gripped the wand hidden away in her cloak. "Sneaking up on people is not very polite," she stated, grip loosening slightly at his comment. She could smell the smoke of cigarette, and crinkled her nose. Liadán hated the way that smoke smelled, it was even worse out of a pipe. It seemed to cling to things, and it took forever to get the stench out.

She found his comment to be very rude. Liadán was not an idiot, she knew that asking would be the best way to find the answer, but it wasn't always as simple as that. Some shop owners would not respond with the truth unless the question was asked properly. Others would lie in order to make a sell, or as an excuse to increase the price on the item.

Liadán turned around, careful not to lean against the glass and dirty her cloak.She gave him a scrutinizing look, carefully taking in his appearance. The suit seemed to be nice enough. although she did not find it particularly flattering. It made him appear to be something like an angel. Perhaps a black tie would have improved the look. "It is not so simple as to ask. Apparently you do not deal with the shop owners in this area often enough to be aware that things are never quite so simple."

"I don't suppose I know you?" she finally asked, cocking her head slightly to the side, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear. The man did look familiar, but that happened quite often. She went to school with so many people that she often ran into witches and wizards close to her age that she recognized from the halls of Hogwarts- even people she never spoke to.

"Sneaking up on people is not very polite."

Sneaking up on people might not be polite, but in Knockturn Alley it was commonplace. Dilly was watching the odd pair from behind a post box, thinking the bloke in the white suit needed sunglasses to complete his ensemble. Or perhaps she needed them. The glare from that white suit was giving her a headache...

An owl fluttered out of the postbox door flap, hooting softly.

Dilly looked appraisingly from the lady to the bloke. The lady looked right wicked. If Dilly tried a smash-and-grab on her, she would probably get stomped by those spike heels.

The bloke, now... Everything about him, from those big puppy-dog eyes to his voice, indicated that he was not the sort to chase her from one end of Knockturn to the other, over a few Sickles. If he did, it would probably be to force food on her.

That glow-in-the-dark suit was like a big neon sign, flashing, “SOFT TOUCH...”