Liadán Ó Móráin had spent a very busy morning in London. Like every week she had come for basic errands, and to drop off a deposit at Gringotts bank. Her first stops had been, as per usual, in Knockturn Alley. She had been checking on clients, and doing a bit of light shopping, and had sold a few items of her own. Nothing particularly rare or hard to get a hold of- just a few practice attempts at making shrunken heads of various animals from her own farm.

There was a shop which had been particularly interested in them. A hole in the wall sort of place that was a bit too shady and dingy for Liadán's usual tastes. Still, they paid a pretty penny for an item which was relatively easy to make. She may or may not have lied to them about the origins of the shrunken heads. Not that it mattered, she had left with more coins to add to her bank vault.

She had to resist the urge to pop into the Black Chimaera and be nosy. Ever since her most recent run in with Mr. Tawse she had been avoiding the place. So she passed by it, with little more than a glance, and made her way back out into the less dangerous and more legal areas of Wizarding London.

Liadán peered behind her as she felt someone following to close, narrowing mis matched eyes at the crowd. She'd had the odd feeling of being watched for quite some time now, but had shrugged it off. Paranoia was completely normal whenever travelling through Knockturn Alley and she knew it. Shaking her head gently, Liadán continued on her way down the street and stepped foot quickly into Gringotts.

She never understood why, in the middle of the week, Gringotts was always so incredibly busy. Kids were in school, and most people were at work, were they not? Perhaps it was the lack of a decent bank other than Gringotts. It was the most secure place for anyone to leave their things, after all. And, just like every other week, there were only two tellers. But, chances were, it was due to the fact that it was the day before Halloween so everyone was out doing last minute things for the holidays and making sure they had enough spending money for the weekend. Bar tabs could get outrageous, she had heard.

Someone came in directly behind her, and she turned to see who it was. She arched an eyebrow. She had seen this man around, and Liadán wondered if perhaps he had been following her. "Do you mind respecting my personal space?" she inquired, taking a step away from the man.

In the blink of an eye, Jake appeared outside of the Quality Quidditch Supplies store.  Apparation had long since become his preferred method of travel.  It was faster than traveling by Floo powder or portkey, and it was much more convenient.  It was for him, at least.  For some, Floo powder and portkeying was simpler and less dangerous.  He'd been Apparating for years now, and he hadn't had any mishaps yet.

As usual, Diagon Alley was bustling with activity.  Signs mounted on several of the shops boasted bargains for consumers; there was a sale on Transforming Rabbits at the Magical Menagerie, and another one for bottles of fluxweed at the Apothecary.  Neither of the items appealed to him, but they probably would have if his attention hadn't been baited and hooked by someone else.

Liadán Ó Móráin had caught his eye.  He spotted her weaving her way through the crowd.  His focus shifted from the window display of discounted robes and trained themselves on the back of Móráin's skull.  He had a strong distaste for the woman and thought her 'business' was questionable - at best.  What irked him, though, was that Cineád Tawse was one of her clients.  Sure, her business with him may have been strictly legitimate... but there was that small, highly improbable chance that their venture graced upon illegality. 

"Where are you off to..." he muttered under his breath.  It was commonplace for wretches like her to always have to be somewhere, so it didn't surprise him when she hastily stepped into Gringotts.  He was quick and subtle - or so he thought - to follow her in.

"Do you mind respecting my personal space?" she inquired.

He chuckled humorlessly, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Funny seeing you here," he responded coldly.  "I would have thought you'd be elsewhere, Móráin, getting ready for Halloween tomorrow.  Or are you running some last-minute errands for Tawse?  What, is he too much of a pixie to come out of that rotten bar of his?" 

He shook his head. 

"Pity." 

Liadán sighed when she realized who he was. The tone of his voice and the way he spoke to her would have given away his affiliation with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement even if she did not know of him. "Good afternoon, Mr. Clayton," she chose by way of greeting, ignoring his statements long enough to gather her thoughts. Considering her recent run in with the questioner at her home, it would behoove her to walk on egg shells with this man. Sometimes, though, she got tired of jumping through hoops and the ministry's reluctance to believe and trust in her innocence. They had no reason to believe she was guilty of anything, really.

"I have already taken care of my arrangements for Halloween tomorrow. Miss St. James is having a get together. The guest list is quite impressive. I do believe she has even invited some of your co-workers to the gala. There is a charity event at midnight. Should I inquire to see if you are invited? If you are hurt at being overlooked, it can be rectified quite easily."

Liadán had intended to keep things civil, until he suggested she was running errands for Cináed. Her lip curled, and she had to choke back the sound of disgust. "I really wouldn't know what Mr. Tawse does or does not do within his own establishment. I have not been in contact with him recently. I find it does not benefit me to keep company with men like Mr. Tawse. I have enough problems as is without adding more to them. Considering that you and the fellow members of the DMLE have decided it is their personal mission to harass me into an early grave."

"Besides," she added, "if I were to run errands for anyone I should think I am more qualified than to be the assistant of a man who spends his time serving alcohol to washed up criminals who have nothing left to live for."

Smoothing out the skirt of her dress and readjusting her bag on her shoulder, Liadán offered the hitwizard a slight smile. "And what brings you to Gringotts?" she asked in return. "I was under the impression the job wasn't a very lucrative one. What with all the personal gratification you get from bothering innocent young women like myself, it must make up the difference... Perhaps I should ask Miss St. James to take up a donation for you and your kind instead? It must be a worthy cause... supporting the men who claim to protect us all by pursuing the innocent instead of chasing down the real bad guys."

"No need," Jake replied, folding his hands in front of him.  "Miss St. James already owled me an invitation.  I appreciate your concern though, Liadán.  It is truly chauvinistic of you to put that much thought forth."  He bit back the urge to deprave his compliment with a sarcastic remark.  It wasn't unlike the woman to test a man's nerves.  She was undoubtedly smart and, in his own opinion, cruelly witty.  He supposed that with a tongue as sharp as the pike of a Hungarian Horntail, one would have to expect as much.

"As I'm sure you're already aware," he said, "we are keeping close tabs on Tawse and his bar.  If I may ask, what was it that you were in contact with him about?  Did he need more doxy eggs?  Firefly thoraxes?  I heard they're charging an extra sickle for fairy wings these days.  Seems a bit pricey for such a meager potion ingredient, don't you think?"

"Besides, if I were to run errands for anyone I should think I am more qualified than to be the assistant of a man who spends his time serving alcohol to washed up criminals who have nothing left to live for."

Jake smiled pleasantly.

"Everyone has their price," he informed her.

Even pretentious women like yourself.

"I am here to make a withdrawal," he lied.  "Nothing more, nothing less."

"Perhaps I should ask Miss St. James to take up a donation for you and your kind instead?" Liadán suggested.  It was the kind of question that made lower-lips stick out and eyebrows furrow.  Jake retained his gracious expression and merely brushed the insult aside as if it were lint on the floor.

"An income of seven hundred galleons a month is quite suitable, thank you," he assured her, his smile never once laboring.  "I am doing quite well, I believe."

"It must be a worthy cause... supporting the men who claim to protect us all by pursuing the innocent instead of chasing down the real bad guys."

"'Pursuing the innocent'"?

He chuckled, offering the richly-clad woman another smile.

"Perhaps I simply couldn't stay away from you, Miss Ó Móráin."

"If I am ever in contact with Mr. Tawse it is to make sure that he is satisfied with the services that my business provides him. I believe taking a personal interest in clients causes them to be more inclined to keep their business with us, and not with my competitors. It is amazing how far that can go. Some companies never bother to check in with their clients, or they send some peon to do it. I find it benefits me to keep in contact with all of my clients, and if you did your research Mr. Clayton, you would know this. But I suppose you can't be bothered to recognize any facts which might, in the end, prove you to be wrong."

She laughed when he said everyone had their price. It was a genuine laugh, tinkling and oddly charming coming from a woman as fierce as Liadán could be. "Please, Mr. Clayton. Your sense of humor is astounding! My price would be something that Mr. Tawse could hardly afford. Besides, there is no price on dignity. I would never be a gopher for anyone. Perhaps you should think a little more before making such ridiculous statements. There is nothing that he could offer me that I do not already have, or do not have the means of procuring for myself. I am a very independent woman, Mr. Clayton. I do not have to rely on the likes of Mr. Tawse for anything."

"If that is what you consider to be doing well, I won't be the one to spoil the illusion. Though I must say I am surprised such a price is paid to such an imcompetent task force. I might have to file a complaint. I hardly believe someone should be paid if they are not doing their job properly. Shouldn't you be working, Mr. Clayton, and not following an innocent woman through Diagon Alley? Harassment is surely frowned upon by your superiors. Stalking is illegal, isn't it? As far as I know, I am not under any sort of ministry investigation. Badgering me without probable cause can't reflect so well on you."

Liadán was a bit shocked that Jacob would suggest that perhaps he couldn't stay way from her. She knew that he was just needling at her. No man in his position would ever consider a genuine attraction to a woman like herself. It did not matter to her. She did not want him to be attracted to her. (Although, if he was, it would be convenient. Perhaps then Liadán might be able to use her feminine wiles to get him to leave her alone for a while.) In response to the smile he offered with the statement, she gave him a look of utter disgust.

"Let us both hope that is not the case," Liadán spat. "I hardly would consider you worthy of my attention. And I know that it would cause you such a conflict of conscience to ever realize you were attracted to a woman you wanted so badly to loathe and think of as a criminal. Although, I must admit, it would not be very surprising. People are often attracted to the things that they cannot have or which would be taboo by normal standards. Unfortunately for you, I do not fall into that category. I have impossibly high standards for my friends and for any potential suitors. You, Mr. Clayton, are just not up to snuff."

He had to admit that her story was aboveboard.  Liadán Ó Móráin was one of the snobbiest, most infamous women he knew, but she was certainly no ignoramus.  Unfortunately, there were no laws implemented by the Ministry that prohibited being a chauvinist or demonstrating verbal cruelty in public.  Sadly, bigoted witches and wizards with galleons to their name held a place of power in Wizarding society.  It was pathetic, really, how the owner of a loaded Gringotts vault thought they were heads above everyone else.

"I'm afraid that what I do does not involve preforming background checks," he replied.  "Though, I would have assumed that you knew that I am only in charge of apprehending wanted criminals... not looking into the going-ons of wishful businessmen- and woman.  That falls under the dominion of Miss Tamis Raynor and the Auror Department.  The only 'research' that I am required to collect is the name, physical description, and whereabouts of men and women who pose threats to Britain and beyond."

She began babbling on about Tawse and her dignity, which made him wonder, what dignity?  Just about everyone he knew who had at least heard of Liadán had something negative to say about her.

"'Incompetent task force'?" he repeated, amazed by her lack of knowledge about his line of work.  "No disrespect, Lia, but I doubt you have a clue as to what it is Hit Wizards do.  Stalking is indeed illegal, but as I said before, I'm simply making a withdrawal.  You're more than welcome to tag along if you don't believe me.  My vault is only a few stories down.  It shouldn't take long... unless they have Rimlin working the mine carts this week."

Her response to his comment about not being able to stay away from her nearly made him laugh aloud.  As far as he was concerned, that was Liadán at her finest.  He was plucking at her nerves, and he knew it. 

"Now now," he said, his smile effulgent with amusement, "with an attitude like that, I don't see why any man would take you as his paramour.  Unless he was after your money, of course.  That I would be able to comprehend."

He waved a hand.  "But enough of that.  I do not wish to keep you at bay.  Obviously, you have other matters to attend to this afternoon, yes?"

His eyes dropped to her dress, which, not surprisingly, was form-fitting and very chic.

"That's a very elegant dress, I might add.  Crina Elena has an exceptional sense of fashion, doesn't she?"

And with that, he walked away and approached the front desk.

"Pardon me, Mr. Clayton, but I do not believe that you know me well enough to address me by my first name- let alone using a shortened form of it. Regardless of whether or not we are fond of one another, there are certain social protocols that should be followed. I'm quite certain that you do not consider us to be intimate enough for me to call you Jake. So if you would refrain, in the future, form addressing me as such it would be greatly appreciated and it would make me less likely to want to hex you."

She wished that she could, though. Liadán would love nothing more than to hex him into oblivion, perhaps practice one of the nastier spells in her reportoire on the man. He was insufferable. At least the aurors were generally nice to her, or at the very least civil. It seemed civility was almost completley lost on Jacob Clayton.

The jab at her lack of suitors caused Liadán to bristle. She took the time to smooth her dress again, spending far too long on it as she reigned in her ever shortening temper. "I have a great deal of male attention," she assured him. "I just choose to only accept it from the most worthy of men. My standards are understandably very high. As I do not wish for a man to squander away the family fortune that has taken generations to build. Although we all have our faults, Mr. Clayton, I have learned over time that a pretty face more than makes up for at least half of them. Luckily, I do have my looks, even if you and so many others might think that I have little else."

She was surprised that he recognized the designer of her dress. She looked down at her own outfit, and when Liadán lifted her gaze again he had walked away from her. For some reason that bothered her. People didn't just walk away from her midconversation- regardless of the fact that the conversation might not have been a very pleasant one.

And thus, she stalked up directly behind him. "Don't you walk away from me like that, Mr. Clayton! Is that all you are capable of doing, disrespecting others? I have already filed one complain with the ministry based upon the behavior of their employees, I should hate to have to file another. And, if my complaints continue to be ignored I should hate even more to go to the press about your boorish behavior."

"Besides," she added. "You do not compliment a woman and walk away before she has the chance to properly respond! I am surprised you know anything about fashion. Thank you for noticing. I work very hard to look well put together, and few people seem to appreciate it."

He couldn't quell a chuckle when she mentioned her desire to hex him.  It was improbable, really, that an untrained and unregulated witch like herself would last five seconds in a duel with him.  He didn't verbalize his discredit, but Jake had years of training and on-the-job experience with disarming, binding, and apprehending precarious criminals.  Liadán was either ignoring that fact, or she was simply downplaying the true nature of his work.  "If you would rather that I call you by your last name, I will do that.  But, if it's all the same to you, I would prefer it if you called me by my first.  'Mr. Clayton' sounds terribly formal if you ask me."

It was obvious he'd struck a nerve with his next statement.  Her response was full of pique and couldn't have been more egotistic.  She was certainly full of herself, but he'd come to ignore that facet of her personality.  It was simply the way most Purebloods were.  He'd witnessed his fair share of blood purity discrimination during his years at Hogwarts, what with the name-calling and relentless bullying.  Fortunately, he hadn't been one of the students unlucky enough to get his head dunked in the loo in the boys' bathroom.  After all, he was technically considered a 'Mudblood' himself.

"Luckily, I do have my looks, even if you and so many others might think that I have little else."

"Well, I won't argue with that," he said. "You certainly do have your looks.  But despite what my fellow co-workers may think, I believe you to be a wise - if not somewhat cross - young woman.  Take that for what you will, I suppose.  I do mean it."

Of course, the term 'somewhat' was a huge understatement.  He didn't see the need to add more sticks to the fire, though, especially after she pursued him along the marble flooring of Gringotts's lobby and spat few more empty threats and insults his way.

"Boorish behavior?  And what, exactly, would be the subject of your complaint, Miss Ó Móráin?" he inquired.  "Please, I would love to hear your reasoning.  I offer you a simple compliment, bid you farewell, and proceed to make a withdrawal from my personal vault.  I fail to see how that would be considered boorish..."

"Besides, you do not compliment a woman and walk away before she has the chance to properly respond! I am surprised you know anything about fashion. Thank you for noticing. I work very hard to look well put together, and few people seem to appreciate it."

His vehemence dissipated.  Had she just... thanked him?

"I recognized the hemming," he explained.  "My mother has been a close friend of Crina's for years.

"And you're welcome..." he replied uncertainly.  It wasn't every day Liadán took it upon herself to thank anyone for anything, let alone him.  Regardless, he felt quite mollified that she had.

"I think it's obvious the amount of work you put in to your appearance," he agreed, unable to mask his surprise when she said that few people seemed to care about how she looked.  Of course, she could have been lying, and of course, it was a bigoted statement.  He doubted the former was the case; she wasn't the type to whine about such pettiness.  Not only that, but she actually sounded sincere when she mentioned it, too.

"Let me be the first to tell you, then, that you look absolutely exemplary this afternoon."

"Formality has nothing to do with it," Liadán stated. "I have been raised that it is respectful to address people as such, and that first names are reserved only for people that I am familiar or intimate with. Considering that I do not think of you as being my friend, and that we are not related nor do we have any longstanding relationship which warrants the usage of your first name, I shall continue to refer to you as Mr. Clayton. I apologize if you don't like it, but it is simply habitual. You wouldn't have me go against the way I was raised and compromise my morals just for you, would you?"

Cross? He thought her cross? Why was this person incapable of paying even the slightest compliment without tacking on an insult to it. "I am not cross," Liadán stated. "I simply grow impatient and tired with the constant meddling of your coworkers. It is always assumed when something goes missing or there is some sort of creature related laws being broken that I must be at the heart of it. They are incapable of separating me from my father. You cannot blame me for being less than thrilled about the situation. But I would hardly consider myself cross."

She did not like people insulting her. In fact, Liadán was not accustomed to it. Even when she got into arguments with people, they were generally smart enough not to call her names or criticize her to her face. Her temper was short, and her mouth and wand were both very dangerous when they needed to be.

Liadán ignored the question about what her subject of complaint would be, or what he had done that had offended her and what she considered boorish. There was no reason to continue arguing with him. He seemed to enjoy it too much, or perhaps he just liked an excuse to keep firing tiny little insults her way. She would not let him get to her any further, she had decided. Liadán would just extract her revenge upon him some other way if he continued to be a nuissance.

"Is she? I might have to mention that to her next time I go for a fitting. She makes me some exquisite, one a kind pieces. A very nice woman with impeccable tastes." More than likely she would go at complain to the designer about her friend's son and how horribly rude and misbehaved he was. "Though I am surprised you recognized such a miniscule detail. You must have a very observant nature." In his line of work, it was likely mandatory that he did.

And then came the genuine compliment. She looked exemplary? Not the best way to word it, but she would take it. Liadán offered another soft smile as she looked away in mock bashfulness. It was always best to receive compliments properly. Liadán had mastered the art long ago. "Flattery will get a person everywhere," she said in response. It was true. No matter how angry Liadán was, a well placed compliment could calm her down and make her act like a totally different person. She lived off of other people's praise.

"Not if you weren't comfortable with it, of course," Jake assured her, folding his arms over his chest.  Her explanation was lengthy as it was superfluous.  It certainly didn't change the fact that he would continue to call her by the shortened version of her first name, "Lia", in the future.  He was well aware of the fact that she hated it, too.  Would he do it just to push her buttons?  Would he do it just to rouse a reaction out of her?

Perhaps.

He could have 'tacked' on another quip to her statement about not being cross, but he refrained.  Instead, he gave a few bows of his head just to push her away from the subject.  A scene was the last thing he wanted to summon, especially right smack dab in the center of Gringotts's lobby.  There was always another time and place to confront Liadán again.

"Indeed she is," he agreed when she mentioned Crina again, "and indeed she does."

"Though I am surprised you recognized such a minuscule detail. You must have a very observant nature."

"I'd like to think I do," he replied, seemingly reading her mind.  "After all, when you're in my line of work, you have to be."

"Flattery will get a person everywhere."

He chuckled.  How true was that...

"I'm afraid I'll be late for my shift if I loiter any longer," he murmured, checking his timepiece.  "I apologize for intruding upon your afternoon like this.  But, it was nice chatting with you, Li-... Miss Ó Móráin."

He gave her a small, yet - surprisingly - sincere smile.  With that, he turned on his heel and walked off, happy to see that his mine cart had arrived.

Liadán watched as he walked away toward his mine cart, frowning deeply. There was something about that man that was extremely unpalatable. It was not just because of his job, it would be ridiculous to dislike him based on that alone- although it would be understandable, given her problems with the ministry. He seemed far too cocky, and much too sure of himself for her tastes. Liadán knew that some people had the right to be arrogant. Someone with money, proper breeding, the right connections, certain jobs- they all had the right. This man was just a hitwizard, he followed orders like a robot, there was nothing special about him and nothing stood out enough to warrant his confident nature and the way he treated her like... an equal.

That was it. She wasn't his equal. Liadán was accustomed to people not thinking she was better than them, but even when they disagreed with her they treated her with some level of respect. Jacob Clayton had treated her as though he genuinely thought she was on the same level, as though he did not care if he offended her or if she had the power to make his life completely miserable. Liadán did not like it. She wanted him to realize she was better than him. And she had been reeled in by it. She had been somewhat civil in her remarks, and Liadán hated herself for it, looking back on it.

She was not going to follow him again. Liadán let him go get in his little mine cart and went up to the counter to make her weekly Thursday deposit. She would be sure to see him again, and when she did, Liadán would not be so nice. If her suspicions were right, he suspected her of something anyway. The man should have been a damned auror or an investigator if that's all he wanted to do- was figure out who the bad guys were. That wasn't his job. His job was to catch and kill the bad guys, not determine who they were. Besides, even if she did take part in some not quite legal activities, none of them really warranted death.

Really, with her interactions with the ministry, Liadán had no idea how Charlotte managed to enjoy slumming it there. Disgusting.

After filling out the proper paperwork and leaving her deposit with the trusty goblin, Liadán left the bank, still fuming. She was going to need to figure out a way to take out her agression after stewing over this. It was a shame she couldn't have just practiced her spells on him. Instead she would have to find some other way of getting in some extra practice with her spell books that she had inherited.