He had lounged there, staring out into nothing for quite a while. Long enough that he had gone through two or three cigarettes until they burnt down to his fingers, causing a startled drop of the mess and quick rubbing of fingers and hands as if the sting would go away with that. Then he would become disjointed again, staring off into space, in the area between here and reality, concentrating on thoughts and ideas.

And they weren’t always the helpful sort. Perhaps that was why he fluttered back to the slowly emptying cigarette package, the crinkling a comforting reminder of where he was. A soft breeze filtered through his window, something he’d hoped would take both the smoke and smell out when it left the apartment. At least it would create less of a haze… And he’d forget that worry with another flicker of the lighter he carried around, the flame leaping up to obey.

Then a comfortable exhale of worries and sorrow would escape with the cloud, a lingering reminder as his hand rested nonchalantly on his thigh. He’d finished his work for the day—it was odd to be caught up with things, to have all his ducks in a row. His normally littered apartment was straightened, and other than the pile of ash and discarded cigarette ends in the ashtray resting on the coffee table, he had little else to do.

Shaking himself from his current dilemma, he stood and walked to the kitchen, glancing through his fridge for something. He came out of the small room with a glass of juice, sitting back on his comfortable sofa with the cigarette posed in the corner of his mouth. Puffing lightly in and out, Frank picked up his latest find at the library, turning it over in his hands before finally parting the book to the page he’d left before. His feet found their way to the coffee table as he settled back.

A while later (he easily lost track of time, just part of being Frank), and he was taking a sip from his juice, absorbed in the latest chapter. The cigarette had long been ground out in the heap of ash, and he found a chill setting in. Perhaps the window had been open too long… Coming out of the words that had grabbed his attention so strongly, he glanced up towards the offending inanimate object. The book snapped shut with a comforting thud before he set it down once again on the coffee table. It took only a little longer to move to the window, pushing it shut.

The late afternoon light was starting to set—how long had he been doing nothing? Suddenly self conscious of the time (and now aware of his rebelling stomach), he fussed with himself, his hands in his hair as he paced one way, only to stop and pace the other. He wasn’t sure where to start—but perhaps washing his hands of the faint smell of cigarette smoke would be a good start. Then he could expunge the lingering smell in the living room. Nodding to himself, he set off for the bathroom, tugging slightly at his sweats. He hadn't even managed to get out of his pajamas...

Akiva loved her parents, she really did.  They were the two people she could count on for anything in the world, but sometimes, on a Saturday morning, it was just really inconvenient to be the youngest person in a house of people who woke up at 4 AM for no reason other than to watch the news and drink their tea.  Akiva, on the other hand, slept until the last moment possible, like she was the same eight year old she had been twenty years ago.  When they finally forced her to wake up and get ready, they left for Temple. 

After that, which Akiva dutifully sat with her parents through and watched, listened, and admittedly, at times becoming distracted by those around her and daydreaming a bit.  It was natural, everyone did it, and once the service was over, they were forced to interact with everyone.  Because it was a weekly ritual, the only ones to catch up with were the Ebbers – their first baby had arrived, and, of course, Akiva, having grown up with Rebecca, needed to check in. 

It was after that point that they walked back to her parents’ city home and spent the afternoon together, which was also typical.  Akiva helped her mother in the kitchen, Isaac tried to help but failed desperately, resigned to cleaning the dishes, and late lunch was, as usual, a standard of Saturdays together.  Of course, the moments where her father were not in the room were spent in the awkward sort of conversations mothers attempted to have with their daughters about their lives when something had clearly happened to change the way her life was going – stilted answers and awkward pauses were enough for everyone at that point. 

After the four o’clock meal, Akiva decided that it was her turn to leave and get ready for the evening, which, in lack of plans with Dree, she decided she would pop in to see Frank.  They had very different schedules most of the time and when she had bumped into him, mention of a Saturday night without plans seemed like invitation enough.  She just wanted to change out of her nice, Temple clothes and into something a little more comfortable – jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. 

When she arrived home (she could trust herself with apparation in such a short distance), and ended up next to the building in seconds.  It was an uncomfortable feeling, but Dree had reacquainted her with the quicker method of travel, which was something he preferred.  She was glad she had not lost any limbs in the departure from her parents’ (their back porch to be precise) and arrival to her own flat, which she entered quickly, threw on the quickest and most comfortable outfit she could come up with and then dashed out the door after giving Gordon and Lady quick pets  (she had magicked their bowls for self-feeding when she wasn’t around). 

Going down the hall, Akiva stopped at the door and rapped three times upon the wooden surface.  “Frank!” she called, her voice taking on the tone it had most of the time before the incident – exuberant and excited.  “I’m not going to stand here all night!"

Once he’d gotten himself up, it was just a matter of time before he felt the pull of the comfortable sofa again. And it didn’t take much (maybe a few steps from the comforting cushions). Still, he had to get up and start moving—it was a Saturday, after all! So into the bathroom he went, taking his time in the shower. He hoped that would wake him up somewhat. And not only from his desire to be lazy, but perhaps also from whatever mood had gripped him.

It was some sort of heaviness—a feeling he couldn’t easily shake off. He had hurt himself when last out book hunting. A careless trip of the feet, that he was prone to, but in a devastating little area with a nice hole in the center of his narrow walk. To keep from going off the side, he’d had to grasp a few things, and in the process, he’d injured his wrist, wrapping it up in a vine. It was nothing at the time, more adrenaline and nerves than anything, but it kind of hurt right then.

It had all started him thinking about what he did. Frank loved what he did, the adventure kept him going, made his weeks enjoyable, made his job bearable. Some people couldn’t boast such luck! So when little things came up like a sprained wrist or narrow escape, he accepted it as part of the price for his contentment with the work. Plus, he was able to look at, handle, sometimes read words and pages that hadn’t been seen for, at the very least, years.

It wasn’t always hunting and adventure—sometimes the books were buried under other books in libraries long unkempt. Sometimes they were masqueraded as other titles, which often made his job more tedious than anything. When they had that chance to get out and actually search, though… well, nothing was so exciting as that. And when he injured himself in those rare chances, he was fairly irritated with himself.

After his shower, he’d pulled on a pair of gray pajama trousers and a long sleeved black pull over with a few buttons at the top. Stretching it out a little, grasping the ends of the shirt and tugging as he stretched his arms, Frank finally sighed in contentment before heading out. So what if he hadn’t shaved in a couple days? He wasn’t needing to impress anyone. Into the kitchen he trudged, once again searching for something. The sun had retreated beyond the horizon, and it seemed now the moon was starting to show itself.

The pounding on his door made him jump, nearly spilling his juice all over him. Then he heard his name, and the frown that had threatened to settle on his features fell away, replaced with a raised eyebrow and slowly growing smirk. Akiva sounded normal again, at least.

“I’m not going to stand here all night!”

Taking a gulp of his glass, he stepped out into the corridor, undoing his locks and opening the door, leaning on it slightly. “Eventually you would have used the key?” Stepping aside, he motioned her in, grinning before giving her a hug and friendly kiss on the cheek. “How are your parents?” Frank had known her long enough to know that she spent her Saturday’s doing productive things, spiritual things that Frank did not.

Finally! 

When he opened the door, Akiva chuckled, seeing him in his pajamas, though clearly his hair was still wet and he looked refreshed.  Either he had been working all day and finally showered to get ready to relax, or it was one of those days where a person did not even climb out of their pajamas until the last possible minute they could have.  She guessed by peering inside and seeing no mess outside of a full ashtray – and the smell of smoke which made her crinkle her nose – that it was the second option. 

“I wish you wouldn’t smoke,” Akiva prefaced, giving him a hug in return, and was glad he no longer smelled of smoke.  While returning the kiss on the cheek, Akiva moved through the threshold of the door and closed it behind her, smiling as she looked around.  She fumbled with the red and white bangle about her wrist for a moment and then, with much intended exaggeration, started to look about the front room of the flat.

Peering up high, above a shelf, and then down below the coffee table, Akiva looked over at him, appearing to be shocked.  “There is not one single sheet of paper littering this flat!”  She stood up straight and put her hands on her hips, critically eyeing him.  “Who are you and what have you done with Frank Pratt?  He is not this neat and so unusually clean.  Though, the stubble was a nice attempt at replicating his usual behavior.” 

“And he would ask about my parents, yes,” she continued to walk about room, into the kitchen to see what was going on – glad to see that nothing had been cooked, then she would know for sure that Frank was not actually Frank and she would have to run out of the flat screaming for her life, or call the aurors to investigate a case of stolen identity.  But no, otherwise, everything was normal.  That was a good sign. 

Making her way from the kitchen, around the table, and back into the living room, Akiva laughed and plopped down on his front sofa after she kicked off her shoes – collapsed in her typical spot.  “For Frank’s knowledge, when he returns, my parents are doing well and have decided to be as awkward as possible.”  Yawning softly, she rested her hand on her fist; her elbow propped up on the sofa arm and grinned.  “And what have you done all day, except tidy up and smoke like a chimney?”

“I wish you wouldn’t smoke.”

Frank gave her a sheepish grin—his mum felt the same way. Still, it was a guilty pleasure he indulged in, and though he was somewhat embarrassed of it when some people were around, he found it stress relieving and relaxing. So he merely gave her a ‘you’ll love me anyway’ shrug and stood by as she looked around. Frowning slightly at her sudden interest in his little knickknack areas, he followed slowly behind, leaning on the wall that separated the front hall from the kitchen, glancing out into the open living room.

“There is not one single sheet of paper littering this flat!”

And then his eyebrows rose and he laughed at that, crossing his arms over his chest as he felt a faint blush rise to his cheeks. If it was that easily noticeable, clearly he’d been delaying a clean for too long. Maybe he should invite his mum over… She would surely have a mild heart attack if Akiva was this surprised. Not that Frank gave in to frequently causing his mum heart pain or anything.

“Who are you and what have you done with Frank Pratt? He is not this neat and so unusually clean. Though, the stubble was a nice attempt at replicating his usual behavior.”

Another laugh escaped him and he shook his head. “I think you’ve been watching too many movies.” And sometimes they did. Tapping his fingers against his upper arm, he smirked and glanced around—he supposed, in his blank state earlier, he hadn’t been concentrating much on how much he’d cleaned up. “I’m sure he’ll be back tomorrow.” Scratching his cheek, the stubble itchy against his fingers, he rolled his eyes at her joking.

“And he would ask about my parents, yes.”

Turning around as she walked past him into the kitchen, he leaned his back fully against the wall. “Cause he’s naturally a good bloke.” If he stayed leaning somewhere versus following Akiva around, it allowed him less opportunity to trip over something. And if that wasn’t a sure sign that he was Frank… He pushed off the wall and followed behind to the sofa, leaning on the back of it as she sat down.

“For Frank’s knowledge, when he returns, my parents are doing well and have decided to be as awkward as possible.”

Grasping the sofa, he chuckled and leaned farther down, resting his elbows and stretching himself back. “Well he’ll be glad to know that.” When she yawned, he couldn’t help but follow suit, shaking his head and hanging it down on his arms. “Don’t start that yet.” Grimacing slightly, he worked his wrist slowly before shaking it out.

“And what have you done all day, except tidy up and smoke like a chimney?”

“Smoke like a chimney?!” Glancing to the pack, nearly empty, he let out a breath. Climbing over the back of his sofa, he sat down with a plop next to her, reaching out and shaking out what was left. When he only saw one, he raised an eyebrow and quickly tossed it back on the coffee table, grinning sheepishly once again. “I read a little. And… made a Frank impression on my sofa.” Putting his hands behind his head, he put his feet up on the table, his ankles crossing. “So what’s for dinner?” Grinning wide, he turned his head her way.

Kiva giggled softly as Frank played along with her game, humoring her and giving her a reprieve from the craziness of the rest of her life.  The moving process was very much under way and Akiva was happy to be out of the flat for a few hours, not packing or worrying about what things she was going to put where and how to label what boxes and if she had enough boxes to begin with – it was all a lot to do, and her mother had decided that helping her was the best idea ever, which only resulted in Akiva having a little more of a mental break because she was trying to be as organized as possible.

The apartment was an absolute mess and after having lost track of Gordon for over a half hour – only to find him perched in one of the boxes with couch pillows and things – time to get out.  So, when she was with Frank, rummaging through his kitchen and laughing, this hectic moment in life seemed a little more bearable.  They were making the final decisions about the place, and she was excited to share that part. 

She was a little sad to leave; after all, this complex had been part of her life for a long time.  But, it was a new experience and a new part of her life, so that had to mean something.  Going through the cabinets, she pursed her lips, grabbing a small orange from the counter when he asked what was for dinner.  So, she was the little cook now?  Even though she knew to expect it, that didn’t mean he had to ask with that ridiculous grin and with his feet up – she wasn’t his wife! 

Tossing the orange across the room, she was happy to hopefully hit him (softly) and giggled.  “I’m glad you could be so productive!” she assured him, the Frank indent sounded like quite the escapade.  She could not understand how someone could sit all day long.  “I would have said if you weren’t so busy you should have popped over to keep me from going insane.  Mum decided to help packing,” she rolled her eyes, “she does not pack like I do.”  That was the understatement of the year, and opening the ice box, she had to wonder what on Earth this boy had to cook! 

Apparently he had not been to the store in ages and she was forced to go through the cabinets again, finding a box of pasta, which would work – and then the cheese and milk in the ice box (which were both half gone, but would work all the same), she decided that it was just a calling for macaroni and cheese.  There was butter, which she also needed, in the back and then Pulling out a medium sized pot and a deep pan.  She put the pan on the oven top and brought the pot to the sink, starting to fill it with water – then opened a cabinet to pour just a tad of salt in – something her mum taught her, though she could not remember why. 

“I think Macaroni and Cheese, ingrate,” she smiled cheekily, lugging the pot from the sink to the stove top.  She would turn that on after she got the cheese sauce going, and then she’d need to get an oven pan so it could bake.  This would be an hour preparation, at least.  He was so lucky the assorted ingredients he actually had would produce something edible.  Very lucky indeed, especially since it would be delicious.  Putting the butter in the deep pan, she turned up the heat to start the melting process. 

Leaning against the counter, she crossed her left arm across her chest, looking from the kitchen to Frank on the couch, and crossed one ankle over the other as she wanted, using a plastic spoon to push the butter around.  “Are you going on any trips soon?  It seems like you’ve been in London for a long time.  I’m not used to having you around so much!”

Frank didn’t like that Akiva was moving. He was used to having his best mate just down the hall, easy to coerce over when he couldn’t be bothered to make much more than some toast and eggs. The same person he spent some of his free time bantering back and forth with, watching movies, and moaning about work and things that went hilarious in their days.

If he had been paying attention, the orange attack might not have been such a solid hit, knocking him in the back of the head before he let out an exclamation of disapproval, glancing back at her. “Some days I just have the gift.” Picking up the orange, he tossed it in the air, watching it with growing hunger growls. Making a face, he laughed and shook his head, finally setting the orange on the coffee table and turning to watch her work. “Your mum and you, in the same apartment, packing your things… If that doesn’t sound like the perfect way to spend a lazy day… Besides, maybe I am part of the ‘Make Akiva Insane’ campaign.”

When he heard ‘mac and cheese,’ his stomach gave an approving rumble and he patted it in anticipation, letting out a groan. “I can’t wait.” It really did sound fantastic, just what the Healer ordered. Or it would be, whenever it was finished.

“Are you going on any trips soon? It seems like you’ve been in London for a long time. I’m not used to having you around so much!”

Rolling his eyes at her, he finally pushed himself up off the couch, moving over towards the kitchen, smirking. “I should be soon, yes. Have a couple leads to sink into for a new order, and then I’ve got to deliver one as well. Soon, anyway…” Shaking his head, he started to look through his cupboards and fridge for other things than food. “Why would it matter? You’re moving away from me, you should cherish every moment.”

Thankfully he was full up on alcohol. Pulling out a bottle of wine, he fumbled for a wine screw, starting to work on it. “Well. Since you’re over here, might as well make a celebration of it.” And with that, he filled up the first glass of the night.

---

Some time later…

For whatever reason, Frank had had to go out fairly early on and resupply some of the things missing in his apartment. It included snacks and alcohol; as quickly as the first bottle of wine had disappeared, he had had enough hindsight to realize they would need another to go with dinner. Now, with the sun set, he was busy trying to walk from the kitchen to the living room, laughing at what he’d tripped over as if it had popped out of nowhere (how long had that doorway been there, really?).

Plopping down next to Akiva, the mess of snacks spread out over the coffee table with remains of mac and cheese and wine glasses and shot glasses, Frank set down the next bottle for them. “I-we-do. Need this.” Licking his lips, he grinned lazily at her. “Are you… did you write your half of the… of the letter?”

Besides, maybe I am part of the ‘Make Akiva Insane’ campaign.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if you were!” she laughed, looking over her shoulder as she started to pour the ingredients for the cheese sauce with the melted butter.  Maybe she’d pour some laxatives into his serving of mac and cheese if that were the case, since she was absolutely going to go nutters if she wasn’t allowed to do things the way she wanted to do them.  Sometimes, she could be childish, but really, when it came to organization, there was no way to be organized if you weren’t doing it the way you wanted to! 

The attempted explanation of this to Nora Katz, however, did not go over quite as well.  Focus on the cooking, she reminded herself, grabbing a wooden spoon from a drawer and stirring the milk into the butter, getting ready to pour in the shredded cheese.  Gasping at his remark about her leaving him, Akiva turned her head toward him, putting her left hand on her hip while the other continued to stir.  “Excuse me!” she declared with a (Somewhat) fake offense, “I am moving but twenty minutes away!” 

“And last time I checked,” she sniffed in agitation, “the floo network cuts the time of travel by nearly 98%,” she tilted her chin up and glanced at him, trying to pull off the angry, little pouty face.  Apparently it was fairly impossible to remain angry at Frank while he was rummaging around and she sighed, going back to the task at hand, turning again to see better what he was doing. 

Naturally, when he pulled out the bottle, the glasses followed suit and Akiva could not help but giggle.  “Celebrate?”  She raised her eyebrows at him, challenging the terminology, “Well, I guess a glass won’t hurt….”

---

Macaroni and cheese with wine was an interesting combination.  After about the third glass, which had gone down far easier than Akiva could imagined it would, she realized this was why she did not drink that much – for some reason, though she was hungry and clearly nibbling on a crisp, it tasted suspiciously like wine.  The parchment in her lap on top of the notepad and the quill in her right hand felt very strange, like they were not being controlled by her, but by the movement of her hand indicated that it really was. 

She had been roped into starting the letter to Maggie – which was inviting her over on Frank’s behalf, which she made sure to write in the first sentence, while Frank went to look for something – she thought he murmured something about more wine, though she had protested – not exactly a valid or strong argument, and giggled as he plopped down, full bottle in hand.  “I… no more,” she shook her head, putting down the quill for a minute and running her hands through her hair for the fiftieth time that evening. 

“I… I got… this,” she held up the paper and looked at him with a lopsided grin, her eyelids drooping just a tad and lips stained a slightly deeper shade of red than the usual rosy pink.  “Whatd’ya think?”

It was always more fun teasing Akiva than actually acknowledging the facts of the situation. In this case, the fact that no matter where she moved, it would be easily accessible. There was just something easy and lazy in the fact that she was currently just down the hall… a few steps and bam there you were. He would have liked to say he was immune to her attempts of causing guilt and sorrow in him with her pouting… but perhaps that was why he was so eager to find the wine glasses.

Regardless, now they were where they were, his mac and cheese demolished, and one bottle of wine down. In between all of that, talk had gone on and conversation had been had, and at some point (who would remember how later? Frank couldn’t even remember right then) the topic had strayed to Maggie. Slightly intoxicated and well fed, Frank had put out some wild statements that he now wanted to back up.

And thus the letter writing was begun. It started with some fumbling for a piece of parchment (thank goodness the phone book was right there) and something to write with (he had a nice big marker).  From there… well, Akiva was writing her part, and Frank was trying to think up his. All he could think of was Come over for fun, which he really wasn’t sure would come across right…

When Akiva declined the wine, his mouth opened in shock. “There is more… and more. You shall have more! But…” Tapping his chin with the end of the bottle, he gave it some thought. “You can wait until the party starts.” Opening the bottle up, he poured himself a glass. As he took a hearty gulp, she asked him what he thought. Attempting to take the parchment and continue drinking ended up in a little wine on his shirt. Thank goodness it was black…

Glancing down at the wet spot, he rubbed at it with his index finger of the hand that was holding the parchment, crumbling it up slightly and no doubt staining a section of it with the wine. Finally he set down the glass and accepted the marker, trying to concentrate. He saw ‘come over’ and thought that was decent enough, scribbling at the bottom a quick Come over for some fun! before signing his name.

Standing up unsteadily, he worked his hips a moment to make sure he could make it to the window. Somehow he got to the owl (after stumbling over the coffee table and taking half the things down with him, of course) and sent it off, dusting his hands and turning to look at the mess. His grin fell slightly. “Akiva! She might… Look at this mess.” Pouting slightly, he moved slowly back over, starting to pick up what he’d dropped.

“We should… should get a game going. You know?”

The fact that she had actually drank like this was shocking enough to Akiva, and then idea she might drink more?  Well, that was even worse than what was already going on.  Full up with food and then added wine made her just a tad drowsy as she wrote her portion of the letter that she yawned over it and looked at Frank as he leaned over to look at the letter.  It was probably best that she was writing the first part – even if her handwriting was scrawling down to the right side of the page. 

But, it was better than Frank who was shocked she did not want more wine – not that she could imagine why – she was very confident in the fact she did not want to be unable to do much of anything.  Even the weird feeling in her arms was a tell-tale and foreign feeling.  Licking her lips, she handed the paper over with a giggle and leaned back, letting her head loll to the side with another yawn.  If she curled up she could just fall asleep…

“Later,” she whined in protest, waving right her hand at him as she ran her left over her face and then though her hair.  She buried her face in the back of the couch for a moment, resting her eyes, yawning again – trying to tell herself she was not all of a sudden overcome with sleepiness.  She had to stand up.  Yes, and get some water.  That was a perfect idea.  When Frank got up, she followed suit and stood on wobbly feet for a moment, shaking one leg as the foot fell asleep and the sickening pin-pricks and wonky feeling took longer than she expected to fix, and the woman limped to the kitchen.

She took a glass out of the cabinet and fumbled with the faucet while she tried to hold the glass up under it.  Her hand was not steady.  She furrowed her brows again and placed the glass on the floor of the sink, glad to see the water was going into it without sloshing all over and then shut off the faucet once it was suitably filled – going back to the ice box for a few cubes. 

As she opened the door to the icebox, Frank started on something and she turned her head, widening her eyes as though that would help her understand what he was saying.  It took just a moment or two to register and then process the words, and she nodded, looking around.  It was a bit messy, but she realized, with a smile, some magic could fix that.  “Just send the letter – we’ll clean up,” she reassured him, closing the ice box (as she completely forgot what she was doing anyway), and contemplated what would be the best charm to use.

Tapping her finger to her lips, she looked around – a simple tidy-up charm would be suitable.  “I know just the charm…” she spoke out loud, and then looked around.  Did she even take her wand?  She felt her pocket, definitely not there, and then walked around the kitchen… searching here and there for it, definitely not there (she passed the glass of water, wondering why there was a completely full glass, and then moved on), and then went to the living room.  “…have you seen my wand?”

Later could work. Frank was enjoying the relaxed feeling he had from his brain to the tips of his fingers and toes. He always thought it would be funny if he walked straighter drunk than he could sober; things don’t always work out ironically, however, and he was just more clumsy than usual. Which was why he liked dark colors; if he spilled something on himself (like the wine), it wasn’t as easily noticeable as it would be on, say, a white shirt.

He had all ready sent the letter when she told him to, but he glanced around for it in case he had only thought he’d sent it. When he turned back to the window, he realized the owl wasn’t there any more—either it had gone off hunting, or he’d just sent it away… Running his fingers through his hair, Frank leaned on a leg and stared out the window a moment. Then her words trickled through and he turned around again, leaving his hair in whatever mess he’d made it.

She knew a charm? Raising an eyebrow, he leaned against the window sill, glancing around. They had enough snacks right? And enough wine… Maybe he should pull out something a little stronger. Then it would be a party. Grinning to himself, he didn’t notice Akiva searching. Well, not until she addressed him.

“…have you seen my wand?”

In a very quick response, he grinned and crossed his arms. “Have you seen mine?” His eyebrows wiggled before he realized what he’d said, laughing and leaning back slightly, the cool air on his back a reminder that there was an open window and a bunch of air he could lean into. “Your wand…” Drumming his fingers against his upper arms, he shook his head. “I thought you didn’t have it any… more?” His hands uncrossed and started to feel his pockets, finding his own wand and pulling it out. “Want to use mine?”

Then he started laughing again, standing up unsteadily and making his way to her. “Whatsthe…” Hands out, he steadied himself. “What’s the charm?”

A short while later and the living room was straightened up. How, even Merlin didn’t know. Frank was standing in front of the window once again, attempting to tap out a cigarette, finally setting it between his lips. “We should play charades.” The owl swooped in, making him yell out in shock, dropping the lighter he had in his hand and fumbling with the cigarette as it tumbled out of his mouth and down his shirt. Somehow in the flurry of hands he caught it, putting it back where it had been and bending over for the lighter, sighing with a few words said under his breath.

Akiva was so engrossed in the search for her own wand when Frank asked her if she had seen his, her mind searched and searched – but she got nothing.  “I… I don’t think so,” she said while blinking, slowly turning back to the search at hand.  The meaning was completely lost on the oblivious young woman and she looked around with confusion – trying to figure out why on Earth he would ask her about his wand when she was looking for her’s!  Didn’t he even hear her question right… Oh.  Oh. Oh! 

With that, Akiva narrowed her eyes and looked back at Frank, tripping over herself a bit and using the couch as an anchor.  “You are disgusting!” she called out and reached down, grabbing a throw pillow for the purpose it was named so aptly for – being thrown.  Of course, her aim was a little off – and strength – as the pillow thudded to the ground with little climax to the whole thing and Akiva sighed softly.  Well, the sentiment was there.  Shaking her head she continued to look around. 

“I thought you didn’t have it any… more?  Want to use mine?”

“I got a new one,” she responded quicker than she thought she might and frowned, starting to peel back the couch cushions, trying to figure out what she had done with it.  It wasn’t in the couch, though she did find half of a lollipop – disgusting, and several knuts and sickles that she had enough sense to put on the side table.  No, none of those things were her wand, she reasoned, and walked toward the front door, curious to see if she could retrace all the steps she took in the flat – not that many…

Licking her lips, she sighed – really frustrated about her own wand – though it was probably in her flat, because she had the tendency to, in the rush of getting from place to place, forgetting it – and she did a lot of things by hand, so it didn’t cross her mind until this moment. And for the moment it seemed like the most important thing in the room – not the cleaning or the Maggie thing, though that was very important and Akiva was prepared to deal with either of those – and maybe vacate the apartment if she felt the need to do that at any point. 

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she couldn’t remember the spell – she usually just waved her wand, it was one of those things she did.  “It’s not that big a deal,” she finally said, and then looked down, seeing something poking out from behind the little end table near the door.  Leaning down with her head tilted to the side, she lifted the wand triumphantly; she must have put it on the table and it rolled off. “Got it!” she exclaimed and turned toward the rest of the room like a woman on a mission. 

Waving her wand, it was like the whole room just reorganized itself as though Frank didn’t even live there, and with a giggle, she lowered her arm.  Well, that was easy.  And she tucked the wand clumsily into the little loop on the side of her jeans.  “Charades?” she parroted confusedly, giving him doe eyes and the puppyish head tilt that indicated curiosity.  She bounced slightly at the realization and grinned, “We should wait for Maggie!”  she nodded enthusiastically. 

Her enthusiasm  turned into deviousness and she wrapped her arms around her torso, “Then you can see if she guesses this,” she giggled and turned doing the age-old, tired mimic of two people necking just to tease – carrying on for several minutes longer than necessary and turned, bumping into the little table she had found her wand behind in the process, grabbing onto it in attempts to look slightly smooth, looking at him with big eyes, “Did you even send the owl yet?!”

Maggie's plan for the evening was not very exciting. She'd suffered enough excitement at the Halloween party last night, facing Cin the psychopath, embarrassing herself in front of Jacoba and Tilly, and then running into Daz on her way out. Not fun. So, this Saturday night, she settled down on the couch with a mug of tea and a new book.

Maggie let out a relaxed sigh, attempting to ignore the pig sliding on the tiles in the kitchen. Apparently, once Colette had transfigured the ottoman into a pig (it was all a part of her Circe costume), she couldn't figure out how to turn it back, and Maggie wasn't about to do it for her. It was much too entertaining listening to her gripe about the creature. At least for now. Maggie would be singing a different tune when the animal took a piss in her shoes.

Suddenly, an owl swooped into the flat, startling Maggie badly enough that she spilled tea on her shirt. Jumping up and wiping at her chest, she grabbed the note and unfolded it, wondering who would be sending her mail.

She squinted at the handwriting - a female's handwriting, but a little shaky. Then she caught a name. Frank.

Brows knitting together in annoyance and confusion, she continued deciphering the note, half afraid that Iza had captured him and was demanding ransom.

But no, it was Akiva. Akiva and Frank inviting her to Frank's apartment. Maggie's first thought was 'Damn, why does Akiva have to be there?'. Her second thought was less a thought, more an emotion. Anger. Who did he think he was?! Honestly! Two months had passed since that horrible incident with Hex Happy in Knockturn, and he had the gall to send her a random, looks-like-he's-drunk booty call, asking her to come over? Maggie didn't even want to know why Frank and Akiva were getting drunk together, but if he thought she would participate in his kinky little threesome plans, he had another think coming!

"Feck that!' She shouted, making the owl flap around in surprise. The pig oinked at her in agreement.

Oh! And he totally had Akiva write the note for him! Sure, he'd added in a few sentences at the end, but still! Maggie was not impressed.

She marched over to the window and flung it open, pointing at it and ordering the owl out. The owl looked offended, glancing around as if it expected treats for its efforts, and then reluctantly flapped out of the apartment. Maggie slammed the window shut and glanced over at the pig, who had wandered into the living area.

"Stupid git," she growled. The pig oinked in agreement again.

---

About fifteen minutes had passed. Maggie had changed her shirt. She was curled up on the couch with her book and her tea, reading the same paragraph over and over. Not by choice, of course. She simply couldn't concentrate.

"Damn it!" Maggie exclaimed, flinging the book down. She spent another second or two glowering into space. Then she hopped up, threw on some different clothes (something more presentable than her old Quiddy tee), grabbed her wand, and left her apartment.

She was on a mission. She was going to Frank's place, and she was going to give him a piece of her mind.

Apparating in the general neighborhood, Maggie stomped up the steps to his flat and knocked loudly on the door.

Maggie started to smooth out her hair and then stopped, annoyed at herself. What did it matter what she looked like? This wasn't a social call. It was a smackdown call. Verbal smackdown, that is.

She crossed her arms and scowled into the peephole, mind racing with all the things she had to say.

He was lucky the pillow missed him. Otherwise, there was a slight chance either he or the pillow would have gone out the open window. Come to think of it, he didn’t know how safe it was to be on the edge while drinking… A smug grin came to his face. “Sometimes, yes.” He could be a boy now and again, however seldom that was. And only around those he felt comfortable with. Grasping the window ledge on either side, he rocked forward slightly.

His mouth opened a little late as his couch began to be destroyed. “Oh.” So… she was going to put them back right? Reaching up with a hand, absentmindedly scratching the back of his head, he thought maybe he should help her look. Then she wouldn’t be the only one making a mess of his apartment. When he saw the lollipop, he considered washing it off and—no, he was trying to find the wand. Picking up a bottle of wine, glancing under it, and then picking up the bowl of dip, he shook his head—not there.

That she found her wand was good news, though the exclamation made him nearly fall back over the table. He was happy to see his apartment looking nice and straightened, grinning. “I should learn that one…” Nodding at her question, feeling like he just asked her if she wanted to play the game, he held his lighter halfway to his mouth. Wait for Maggie? Oh right!

Nodding in agreement, he finally lit the end of his cigarette. It was about when she asked if he’d sent it that the owl returned, empty handed. “Well… yes. I sent it a while ago…” Checking it over, seeing if there was any sort of response, he frowned. Maybe it was dropped? Giving the owl a treat, he moved back to the table, pulling another piece of paper out. It was about the time he had written ‘Maggie, I don’t know if you got my last mes-’ that he heard the loud knock. ‘hold on, door.’

Leaving the quill there, he got up and ran his fingers through his hair. Had they ordered take away? Frowning in confusion, he fumbled with the door knob. Opening it, he was pleasantly surprised, eyebrows raised and a big grin on his face. “Maggie!” Careful of the cigarette, he leaned forward and pulled her into a big hug, pulling away and stepping aside. “I didn’t think it… the thing… the message, I didn’t think it got to you. Come in!”

The big grin on Frank's face and the look of pleasant surprise made Maggie almost, almost consider brushing off her anger about the note and the fact that he hadn't contacted her in two months.

Nevermind that she hadn't contacted him, either.

But then he ruined it with a hug! Maggie caught a whiff of alcohol on his breath, stiffened, and gave him an incredulous look. Did he not see the scowl on her face? The scowl that said she was not at all happy with him and didn't appreciate his affectionate greeting?

And that grin! Moments earlier she'd found it sweet, even endearing, but that was before she'd discovered her suspicions were confirmed. He was drunk. He'd drunk-owled her. That was the grin of someone who expected to get laid.

"Oh, I got the message," she snapped, stalking inside. The place looked suspiciously... clean. Clearly Akiva's doing, Maggie assumed, irritation rising. Some people liked a little clutter!

"I don't get you, Frank," Maggie began before she lost her nerve, barely glancing at Akiva. She crossed her arms and glowered at him. It was annoying how he made even his disgusting cigarette habit look sexy.

"The last time we saw each other was in September. Remember that? You were flirting with this crazy, whacked out homeless person in Knockturn Alley. She hexed me twice, I might add. And nearly went psycho on you."

Actually, there was no 'nearly' about it. Iza slapping him and screaming at him definitely fit under the definition of psycho. 

"Long after that lovely little meeting, you send me an owl. Which is fine, okay," Maggie said in a tone of voice that made it clear it was not okay. "Except it's late at night, you have her write most of it for you, and the two of you are already wasted."

Maggie shot a glare at Akiva, and then went on. "So let's make one thing clear. I am not your late night booty call! I don't care what the two of you have got planned... or whatever you've been doing," she didn't want to think about it. "But if you think you can just send me an owl after months of not talking to me, and expect me to just come running on over..." Maggie hesitated. She had come running on over. But to scold him! To scold him and storm out! Right.

"Well, feck that, 'cause it's not going to happen," she shook her head. "I hope you two 'have fun'," she grumbled, then turned for the door.