Tues, October 14
7pm

Knox Greyfriar was sitting at a table by himself at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade.  The candle on the table was lit, sitting in a waxy pool on the bare wooden table. It was already dark outside.  It had been a very long day.

There had been case files to read, and pages and pages of quill-dictated testimonies and reports to read in preparation for a long hearing.  One of the Runespoor smugglers had finally been brought before the Wizengamot.  Sadly is solicitor was no good at all.  And try as he might, hoping to bury the case under trade regulation jargon, it had been easy to come to the conclusion that the fellow had a cart of Runespoor eggs and the intent to sell them.  

All of that was easy.  A lark compared to what he was doing this evening.  Meeting with Devlin, his newly discovered bastard son.  Who hated him.  And frankly, for all the bastard sons Knox would have hoped to have fathered, the slippery, silver-tongued, class-skivving future criminal Devlin Matthews would not have made the short list.

But Knox was the adult. He had to be the responsible one.  And well. Of the two of them, Knox had the most culpability for causing this situation.

Madam Rosemerta seemed to sense Knox's doom and gloom vibe and had her servers steer well clear.  Only coming by to refill his coffee.

He stared down at the flickering candle as a dribble of wax broke free from the pool near the wick and dribbled down and down and down like hot magma.  It crept past the edges of the candle stump and followed the groove of the table's grain.  Then pooled in a perfectly round divot from a knot in the wood.  The white disc gleamed in the firelight, looking a dark orange. Almost red.

The bells at the front door sounded and Knox snapped his gaze away from the wax and tried to look pleasant and not like a dour old bear.

Sneaking out of school that evening had been almost frighteningly easy. In fact, Devlin didn't really need to sneak out anyways. His tentative business arrangement with the headmistress made it easy to come and go as he pleased, as long as he pretended it was for supplies needed for his sabotage. But Devlin decided to sneak out anyways. Partially it was because it was fun breaking the rules and getting away with it... and partially because he didn't want anyone to see him shaven and wearing a suit.

Why was Devlin wearing a suit? Well that is a very good question and one that Devlin himself isn't sure of an answer for. Perhaps it was in hopes to impress his 'father' into renting him a place in Diagon Alley. Devlin hadn't told anyone, not even his right and left hand men, but only a week before he had gotten a rather irate letter from his father. Matthews Senior, it would seem, discovered the truth behind his late wives infidelity and Devlin's true identity, and decided he could be rid of the boy once and for all. "Don't come home" was the entire gist of the short letter. In fact, aside from calling his mother and himself some rather rude names, that was pretty much the entire letter. Devlin had burned it immediately and sat for the rest of the week brooding in his quarters.

He would rent the place himself, but the money he had earned from Miss Kingstreet was all but completely gone and Snark's sickles wouldn't be coming in until he pulled off a successful sabotage. His side businesses' sales were at an all time low, more then likely because students were not sure how to handle the new Headmistress and didn't wish to bring her wrath upon them by cheating. He was used to the low around these times, but it had never hurt as much as before.... Mostly because, before, he had a home to go to when Christmas rolled around.

Hence why he was on his way to see 'dear old dad' (he gagged at such a nickname for the man). When they last met, Greyfriar made a rather piss poor attempt to offer any assistance he could, and Devlin intended on forcing him to make good on it. He wasn't asking for much... Just a small one bedroom loft in Diagon Alley, preferably close to Knockturn so he could conduct business with ease. Simple and cheap, if you asked him. Surely Knox could pony up a few galleons to help his only son, whom had never asked of him a thing in his entire life.

Devlin hurried towards Hogsmeade, wishing he had his apparation license. It would have been far easier then pausing to transform into his rat form everytime he thought he saw someone coming his way. Thankfully he made it to the Three Broomsticks with relative ease, having only received one suspicious stare along the way from a lounging hobo who would likely forget before he had a chance to tell anyone of importance. Ducking into the Three Broomsticks, Devlin found the hulking figure of his father easily enough. But then anything is easy to find when it is exuding wave after wave of threatening anger. Perhaps this wouldn't be as easy as Devlin had bargained for.

Forcing a smile, Devlin slid in the booth across from the older gentleman, Saying smoothly "Well well old chap, looking quite chipper today are we?" before turning to the still lovely Rosemerta with a charming smile "... A firewhiskey please, on the rocks..."

Knox had really tried to smile. He really really had.  But when Devlin was the one who slipped into the pub, wearing that get up and ordering what he did ... Knox knew the kid was doing it all on purpose.  Just like he always had done when Knox had been Headmaster Greyfriar.  That air of superiority, as if he was daring someone to cross him.

Back then, there had been some sort of sympathy.  Some part of Knox that had tried to nurture Devlin.  Give him the chances he needed to succeed and use his powers for the forces of common decency.  Harnessing that rebel spirit towards something other than personal satisfaction.  But Knox had always bristled at Matthews's taunting tone. This attitude that he was above the rules.

And even now, Devlin was baiting him.

Madam Rosemerta seemed to know what was up and offered a scoff that matched Knox Greyfriar's annoyed look.  Instead she used her wand to send over another cup of coffee. And even if the old bar owner had been alright giving a drink with dinner to a 17-year-old from up at the castle, she'd not likely do so in front of the old Headmaster.

Greyfriar rubbed his face.  "At least make an effort..." he mumbled as much to himself as his son.  He tried to compose himself, try to be positive about all this.  He really only succeeded in looking weary.

"I'm fine, Devlin. How are you? Doing alright with your classes? Not crossed the Headmistress?" he asked, again, doing his best to be amiable. Sound concerned. 

But he suspected he knew the answers to these questions.  Devlin always seemed to act the most confident and slick when there was something bothering him.  And clearly he wasn't toeing the line if he was out in Hogsmeade on a Wednesday evening.   

Maybe it was the suit. Or maybe it was his smooth, stubble-free face. Whatever it was, Fauna had been intrigued when she’d spotted Devlin Matthews crossing the grounds that evening. She told herself that she shouldn’t care, that they’d shared one kiss over the summer and that was it, but… Fauna wanted to know what he was up to. Was it a girl? Probably. He kept looking over his shoulder and hurrying along the path as quickly as his long legs would carry him. It was a miracle that Devlin hadn’t noticed her lurking in the shadows.

It was even more of a miracle that she’d managed to follow him unnoticed, once she’d been joined by Beatrix and Sasha. The whispered arguments between the three of them weren’t exactly… whispered.

“I’m not stalking him!” Fauna repeated in a hiss, ignoring the look Beatrix gave her.

When they realized Devlin was headed towards Hogsmeade, Sasha’s concerns that Snark would expel them grew ever more insistent. It took some convincing (and threatening of violence on Beatrix’s part), but they’d decided to move forward. Just in time to see Devlin turn the corner!

Five minutes later, the group was parked in front of the Three Broomsticks, bickering over why they were there. Devlin had disappeared into the noise and light of the pub a minute ago. Perhaps he really wanted a firewhiskey?

Fauna frowned, hesitating in front of the door. “All right, I’m going in,” she told them, raising her eyebrows at Sasha. “It’s just a pub, right?”

She opened the door, cringed at the jingle of bells, and quickly moved towards a table in the back, where the light was dim.

As she scanned the room, she almost fell out of her stool. Devlin Matthews was meeting with Knox Greyfriar?! That was the last thing she expected to see. They’d never seemed to get along very well!

After dragging Sasha out of the common room late at night, Beatrix was rather excited about stalking Devlin Matthews, perhaps ratting him out later. Sasha just so happened to be there, and Bea really needed her fellow prefect by her side while she broke the rules-- It was for the sake of getting Matthews expelled! Maybe... Depends if they believed the pink-haired maniac.

Beatrix, herself, could had just followed Devlin. She could have morphed herself into a totally different person, which she sort of planned on doing. But, abusing her ability would probably get Beatrix into worst trouble so she just followed the boy with caution, digging her finger nails into the doubtful Sasha's arm. Even with the constant murmurings the boy made, Beatrix made it unseen and unharmed.

But when she ran into Fauna Blake... A few nasty words spewed out of both the, usually innocent, girls. Apologies probably wouldn't be said until the end of the night.

“I’m not stalking him!”

"Oh really? If you're not stalking him, then Sasha's wearing high heels!" Beatrix hissed right back at the girl, and then quickly making sure Sasha wasn't wearing such shoes.

Devlin did walk fairly fast. And she was surprised he really didn't see the trio following him. What with him being all gushy over Fauna, Sasha being so gigantic, and Bea having her bright pink hair. She eyed her two (rather tall) companions before contemplating changing her appearance. Just a tad, to make her less distracting. But, before she had more time to think, the trio stopped and began to bicker again and Fauna decided to go in.

Bea turned to Sasha with a hesitant grin, "You first, Sasha. You're not running off on me." Within seconds, Bea's form shifted, slightly. She was quite obviously still Beatrix, just with brown hair. She was much less noticeable, and a lot more confident. "Lets go..." Beatrix murmured, pulling the boy in, finding the table where Fauna sat and quickly joined her. She, too, was shocked to see Greyfriar. Why on earth would he meet up with Matthews? Greyfriar didn't seem the type to invite students out for drinks... Then again, he wasn't Headmaster anymore. "I would have expected, oh... I don't know... A promiscuous girl or a drunken potion dealer." Beatrix murmured to Fauna and Sasha, "... I don't think Greyfriar is either of those things."

"Ganz Unsinn!" Sasha glanced over his shoulder.  Even in the dark, the shock of pink was unmistakable.  He shook his head again.  Bloody insanity, that's what this was though, this time, he kept that thought to himself.  If they hadn't figured out he disapproved of this by now, they'd both gone deaf. 

The nails that had gripped his arm and the urgency with which his housemate (and fellow prefect, in case anyone had forgotten) had ushered him from the castle had left little room or opportunity for discussion.  They were already beyond school grounds when, between the two girls, Sasha was able to deduce why they were out there. 

"You thought he was the best person to emulate?"  Sasha asked, again.  Who that question was better suited for, Sasha didn't know.  Beatrix, as a prefect, should know better.  Aside from her tendencies to start rebel-rousing protest groups and knocking innocent bystanders into cold lakes to save hats (and, not very fashionable hats at that) from rampaging nifflers, it seemed Fauna was more likely to know better.  When looking for someone's behavior to imitate, Devlin Matthews wasn't, exactly, Sasha's first choice.  Or his second.  George Carter might be one of few students Sasha would rank behind him as 'least suited for role-modeling' and that was purely because Carter had actually managed to repeat a year.  Even Devlin hadn't managed that, yet.

The two girls seemed to be taking care to leave him sandwiched between them like they were guards on patrol and he was their prisoner.  As if he'd be trying to sneak back on his own now, anyway.  If he was going to risk getting caught on the way in, Sasha was going to make darn well sure there was someone with him to point fingers at.  "Stalking, following, I don't think the distinction really matters," Sasha breathed at Fauna's back.  "I may be wrong, I usually am, but I don't think 'I wasn't stalking him' will make sneaking out any less ... I'm not - high heels?"   Sasha stopped in his track and turned back towards Beatrix.  But, with one sour, impatient glance from his housemate and he turned and caught up with Fauna with a few, quick strides. 

At Beatrix' urgings, he followed Fauna into the pub and was about to take a seat before he noticed who was seated with Devlin Matthews.  "Scheiße!"  Just when he thought (or hoped?) his luck couldn't turn anymore against him, they were now peering (therefore snooping) across a pub when they should be back in their dorms at the man that had been their headmaster.  And, Sasha had always tried to impress. And had been their headmaster, lest he forget.  "That's ... that's Professor Greyfriar," he hissed, accusingly, at the other two.  "We're screwed," he muttered, quietly, hiding his face in his hands. 

Devlin didn't break eye contact with Knox for several moments, keeping his hazel eyes hard and unreadable as he tested how long the older man could withstand such scrutiny. They were equals here, at least, Knox was no longer his headmaster and could not have him expelled for a little ribbing. He was so intent on staring down his father that he did not see what the still lovely Rosemerta put in front of him and didn't realize that his ice cold Firewhiskey was scalding coffee until he nonchalantly picked up the glass and took a drink.

As the burning liquid scalded his throat, Devlin coughed and managed to grab a napkin just in time to catch the dribbling liquid. Having been denied his whiskey and had his stare broken, Devlin glowered at the man as he wiped his mouth. Point to you, old man... But that is all you are getting... He thought inwardly as he composed himself and pretended he wanted coffee all along.

"I'm fine, Devlin. How are you? Doing alright with your classes? Not crossed the Headmistress?"

Devlin let out a forced laugh as he stirred his coffee with one hand and gestured with the other, as though Greyfriar had made a joke "... Oh heavens no. I would never cross such an formidable woman. Besides she is an excellent headmistress..." He emphasised 'Excellent' almost cruelly as he took a long sip from his coffee, managing to not dribble it down his front this time. Swallowing, he added "... I am sure you don't need to hear about school from me... I bet you have all sorts of little spies in there, don't you... Dad." He snipped sarcastically, rolling the distasteful word around in his mouth as though he wasn't sure to swallow it or spit it out in disgust. Putting down his mug, his face got serious "...That surely being the case, school isn't why I wanted to meet with you."

Knox Greyfriar didn't notice three of his most pleasent students join the dinner crowd at the Three Broomsticks.  And perhaps lucky for them, giving up Headmastering had been a very easy switch to flip.  It had been quite liberating to relinquish the responsibility of molding the minds of hundreds of young witches and wizards.

Especially now that he had just the one to worry about.  Even if Knox had wanted to notice Sasha, Beatrix and Fauna, his frustration with Devlin clouded his attention so thoroughly that they'd need to be glowing purple to slice through the the fog.

Devin's taunting, syruppy tone was the same play-acting that had gotten him out of so many pickles at Hogwarts.  Devlin had always been that - slippery.  Knox kneaded the aching place between his bushy eyebrows when Devlin mentioned Snark and excellent in the same breath.  Rotting Merlin, what a fiasco. He was washed with annoyance that she had taken over for him. 

"Spies.  Don't be so dramatic," he growled under his breath.  "No one spies on you."  (Wink wink.)

"So what is it, then, Devlin?  You're dressed like you're here to sell me something.  I'd assumed we were still on the terms we parted on.  You hate me, shove it, etcetera.  I don't imagine anything's changed.  Not exactly been a pleasent evening so far."

Knox spoke candidly with Devlin now, perhaps more than he ever had in the past.  Even as Headmaster, Knox had tried to treat his students with a level of candor that showed he trusted them, that he wanted to understand what they thought.  But there'd always been a little bit of a guard up.  A mitigation of his temper.

But he wasn't a Headmaster anymore.  He was a hated old man with a mouthy, arrogant bastard of a son.  Candor was exactly the word.

"So what is it, then, Devlin?  You're dressed like you're here to sell me something.  I'd assumed we were still on the terms we parted on.  You hate me, shove it, etcetera.  I don't imagine anything's changed.  Not exactly been a pleasent evening so far."

Dammit, he was getting irritated. Devlin had always loved getting under Greyfriars skin. There was a rush of pleasure knowing that he couldn't really do much about it. But this, as he recalled, was no longer the case. Knox was no longer a headmaster who had to keep his temper in check and his wand stowed away in the crevices of his robes, unused, while Devlin danced around his allegations like an expert ballerina. He could very well curse Devlin senseless, or worse: refuse to help him. Dev couldn't afford that, so he sobered up.

"Look, let me candid with you... I was really upset, allright. I... I mean... How would YOU react if the tables were turned? How would YOU feel about the man who knocked up your mother who you worshipped as a paragon of innocence and virtuousness your entire life? I dare say you would have said the same thing." His face was surprisingly sincere as he said this, almost pleading for Knox to understand where he was coming from. Even Devlin didn't know if he was actually speaking from the heart. Sometimes when you acted like something else so much, you couldn't tell when you really felt something.

"That being said... I came to you as your son..." Looking down at his hands, He struggled with the sincerity here, stumbling over the words "your son". They still tasted so bitter and wrong in his mouth. "... As much as I loathe to ask for it... I need your help. Specifically, monetary help..." His eyes glanced up at Knox from under his thick brows, both pleading and curious if he would take the bait. "Please... Dad."

There was a visible change in Devlin.  His face got serious, his browns furrowed in youthful earnestness. Pleading.  Vulnerable.

Knox's own initial non-verbal response was to lean back in the booth and don the blank face of skepticism.  He'd seen this act, or some like it, many times before.  From Devlin as well as a whole host of other students trying to appeal to his soft side.  Admittedly, Knox certainly had a soft side.  But his mercies were generally reserved for the younger students who'd already been sufficiently traumatized at being glowered at by the old bear. 

When the subject of Knox's own father came up, Knox could only image his dad laughing at Knox's predicament. Not in a bad way, but in the manner that all parents wish misbehaving children on their own children.  And the late Old Greyfriar had seemingly got his wish tenfold.

But as Devlin spoke, Knox could sense there were traces of something truly genuine about his bastard son's words.  It was unfamiliar on Devlin.  Devlin had so often been able to mimic this kind of honesty - so either he was getting better or this was a rare moment of self-exposure.

Knox balked just as much as Devlin did at the word 'son'.  Sure, he'd thought it many times since September.  But he hadn't really said it, save a few times in his conversation with Tulojow.  He hadn't even brought it up to his old friend on the Wizengamot, Jason MacDonnell who had children of his own.  But saying it out loud, them both acknowledging it willingly, was a new sort of shock.

When Devlin finally said please.  Dad. Knox didn't know what to do with himself.  Suddenly his arms felt heavy.  He leaned back on the table, saying nothing.  His bearded chin was in his hand and he looked anywhere but at Devlin.

He felt horrible about it, but he couldn't help but wonder if he was just a new mark in one of Devlin's cons.  He wanted to trust Devlin, and he wanted to help him - prove he was a dependable father.

He closed his eyes and steeled himself.  He didn't open them when he finally said.

"Alright."  Shit. "Alright, Devlin.  Fine.  I'm afraid to ask - but how much gold are we talking about? And what the devil for?"

Well, that hadn't come out especially paternal.

Vladislaus Dragulia walked into the pub, thirsty after hiking from the Hogsmeade Station to the Hospital Hut,  in search of Tulojow Najde. She must have been away on one of her mysterious jaunts into the woods, as she wasn't in the hut, the barn, or anywhere else he had looked. Which was a bit disappointing as he had brought her flowers; not cut ones which he imagined she wouldn't like, but live chrysanthemums. Dragulia, he told himself as he walked up to the bar, you are an old fool. He had left the flowers, with a note, at the door to the hut.

Paying Rosmerta for a shot of Ogden's best, he took a seat at a table near the counter. Glancing across the dusky room he saw a trio of students. At least he hoped they were students; surely the faculty at Hogwarts could not be that young. Smiling faintly as he observed the bubble-gum pink hair of one of the girls, he was poignantly reminded of Nymphadora Tonks...and her late husband, whom Vlad had liked and respected. Then, unexpectedly, the hair turned a mousy brown; which reminded him again of Tonks.

And then, turning toward the nearest table to his own, he spotted someone he knew. Greyfriar Knox. Of course being each members of their two nations' Wizengamots it was natural that they would know each other; but in these days of the Runespoor Ruckus they had been coming into contact even more frequently. But who was the young man in the business suit?

"As much as I loathe to ask for it... I need your help. Specifically, monetary help...Please... Dad."

Vlad was too much of an old hand to raise an eyebrow or give any other indication that he heard. But the vibe from that table reminded him a great deal of conversations with his own estranged stepson...

Fauna watched Devlin and Greyfrair closely, turning a deaf ear to Sasha’s hissed predictions of doom and gloom and Beatrix’s funny commentary. She frowned, nibbling on a fingernail when she saw the former Headmaster, his expression annoyed, his body language tense. She only saw the back of Devlin’s head, but her imagination conjured up some kind of quiet argument that they desperately wanted to keep private.

She began to feel guilty, like an intruder, even though the three students were technically in a public place and they weren’t close enough to overhear anything. Yet, she wanted to overhear. She wanted to know. It might be silly, but Devlin was such a mystery to her, that she couldn’t help but be curious about what he was doing. Fauna had expected him to be meeting a girl like Bea had suggested, but he was meeting Professor Greyfriar. Why? The two of them had always, always been at odds.

Glancing at the door, Fauna considered leaving and letting the mystery remain unsolved. It would be the polite thing to do, the right thing, perhaps. No matter how much she thought about it, however, her bum remained firmly planted on stool and her eyes kept darting back to the curious duo at the bar.

“Beatrix,” Fauna said suddenly. “Would you be… willing to maybe… go over to the bar and buy a butterbeer? Just um… well, to sort of try and.. overhear what they’re talking about?” She bit her lip and glanced at Sasha, worried he’d think she was being despicable, but hoping that Beatrix would be up for it. Changing her hair to brown had made a dramatic difference- or, rather, it made her look normal. Like a regular teenage girl. Out of the three of them, Beatrix would be the least likely to be recognized, Fauna thought.

“Beatrix, would you be… willing to maybe… go over to the bar and buy a butterbeer? Just um… well, to sort of try and.. overhear what they’re talking about?”

Bea hesitated for a second. Which was quite strange for Beatrix, since she never really ever hesitated, but she had to think. Even though she definitely didn't stand out at all anymore, would they still recognize her? But, Beatrix bit her lip and nodded, "Sure thing..." She murmured before slowly getting up. There was nothing Knox or Devlin could really do if they caught the trio, but even so... It would be scary to see their reactions. She flicked her fringe into her face and trotted past the two older gentleman, listening closely and trying to act like she wasn't completely crazy.

"Please... Dad."

"Alright, Devlin.  Fine.  I'm afraid to ask - but how much gold are we talking about? And what the devil for?"

Wait... WHAT!? Beatrix kept her cool and acted like she heard nothing. Yet her hair still nearly set up in a bright yellow blaze and she threw her hood up, quickly. It probably would go unnoticed after she controlled herself so quickly. But the shock she felt left her quite speechless when she finally reached the bar. "Um- Hem..." She cleared her throat, "Two-- Err... Three butterbeers please." Beatrix asked in her most 'sophisticated' voice. After a few minutes of preparation (Which seemed more like hours) Beatrix finally got the butterbeers and began to shuffle back towards her table. She wanted to change her facial structure, she truly did, but Bea promised herself she wouldn't abuse her own willpower.

When she reached the table, she had to squeeze in between two rather large men but still made it without spilling the drinks nonetheless, she set down the drinks and sat down once more. Beatrix looked rather pale and she turned, awkwardly, towards Fauna. "Did Devlin ever tell you about his... Family life, Fauna?" She asked, her voice cracking a bit.

They were not supposed to be here.  It was against the rules, it was against logic and - judging by what they could see of the nature of the conversation between Devlin and the former Headmaster - it was rude.  And, if Fauna and Beatrix could just stop and think about it, they might be able to recognize that there was probably only a handful of good explanations for why Devlin would sneak out to meet with Professor Knox.  To minimize the chances their conversation was overheard was bound to be amongst the reasons. 

Only too readily could Sasha understand that sentiment.  He wanted to apologize, profusely, to both of them but his fear of getting caught was still proving stronger than his fear of being improper. 

"We shouldn't be here," he hissed at both of them.  "I'm -" But, Fauna's voice cut over his own as she spoke to Beatrix.  Had she just -   Sasha's eyes widened and his jaw dropped in disbelief as he stared at Fauna.  "I can't believe ... don't you think he came here because he doesn't want to be overheard?"  He'd always considered Fauna to be a reasonable girl, to have a level head on.  Of course, one couldn't spend more than an hour around Neely without discovering what she thought of the seventh year, but Sasha had always assumed that was just due to some irreparable fashion disaster or some misunderstanding in the language of shoe. 

Sasha turned towards Beatrix, shaking his head.  "This - this ... Beatrix,-"  He was going to beg her not to do it.  He was quick to cough this up to an issue of pure etiquette but it also didn't take too much imagination for Sasha to recognize that that could be him one day.  Speaking to Dreogan - or even Jacoba - about something personal and ... Sasha slumped back in his chair and stared out the window at the darkened street as Beatrix crossed the room, pointedly avoiding looking at Fauna or the former Headmaster and Devlin.   

Beatrix returned.  Judging by her features, there was no doubt she'd overheard something she wasn't meant to overhear.  She asked Fauna about Devlin's family life and Sasha turned towards them.  Perhaps he was personalizing the situation way too much.  But, no.  He couldn't do it.  Avoiding getting caught wasn't worth it anymore. 

"Whatever it is, clearly he doesn't want either of you to know.  Or he'd tell you.  You should be ashamed of yourselves," Sasha said, quietly, to both of them, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet.  Walking back on his own, in the dark (on a full moon of all nights), was foolish but he couldn't just sit there anymore.  Tugging his coat tighter around his shoulders, Sasha made for the door.

"My friend," said Vlad, seeing from the young man's body language that he was ready to storm off by himself, "it is getting chilly out there. And dark. And...the moon is full. Not that I subscribe to every old wives' tale about the full moon...but after all they did not get to be old wives without at least some common sense."

He pushed a chair out, with one booted foot.  His boots were scarred and scuffed, from many years of hiking. "Why not join me," he suggested, "until the young ladies are ready to  go back? After all you would not want to let them go alone..."

He was sure even if the young fellow was angry for the moment, he would still want his friends to be safe. Not that Knox would let three kids go wandering off on a full moon night by themselves. Nor for that matter would he...

Smiling, he extended his hand to the angry young man. "I am Vladislaus Dragulia," he said, in a faint but still recognizable Romanian accent.