Lexus had bid Jonas goodnight early having only come into the office briefly anyways. There wasn't much work for her to do on a Sunday but she was still having trouble getting Jonas used to the new organization system she had set up for him. She headed back to her month to month flat and changed. She had been wearing a baby blue cowl neck blouse and a pair of powder grey dress pants with matching baby blue pumps but she felt it wasn't the kind of outfit that would allow her to walk through Knockturn alley unscathed.

Lexus was just thankful that Ms Weidman had responded so quickly. Her little owl which she had managed to procure a few days into working for Jonas had returned while she was taking a quick break to eat and she had been overjoyed at the other woman's response. She had been running the whole scenario through her head over and over again until the work day was through. The only obstacle would be getting the 5 galleons she'd need for the potion. She had plenty of muggle money from her own 'Health drink' business she was doing on the side and just needed a way to convert it. Maybe Dazmond would accept the pounds instead and convert the money herself.

She threw her work clothes to the side and put on a half see through black lace top and flowing black skirt. The top was only mostly see through in the front leaving the fabric whole on the back to cover up her scars. She threw an elegant looking witch's robe over top the ensemble and strapped on a comfy pair of black Mary Jane's. With her hair up in a sloppy ponytail she figured she looked a little better for her walk into madness.

Making sure she didn't draw any attention from her neighbours Lexus made the trip into Knocturn alley. As fate would have it there was a sketchy looking old witch near the mouth of the alley selling batwings. Lexus didn't necessarily need the ingredient for the kind of potions she made herself but the witch was willing to take muggle currency and give her galleons in exchange. Lexus had a feeling she might had been ripped off but she had the five galleons she'd need for Dazmond and that's all that matter. Besides her 'Health Drinks' were so popular she didn't think she'd have trouble making the money back.

Lexus entered the pub and made a casual, as casual as she could make it, beeline to the bar. She hopped up on the well worn stool and looked at the Bartender. Oddly enough, even though she was in the middle of the best bar with the worst reputation in London, in the heart of Knockturn Alley and about to buy a flask of Wolfsbane from an illegal potionsmaker Lexus hadn't felt this comfortable in over a year. She supposed it was just a matter of being in a bar again.

Once the Bartender caught sight of her Lexus gave a sultry smile and ordered, "Fire Whiskey Cher, and I'mma lookin' for Dazmond Weidman, she's expectin' me." She had no idea why but for some reason when she spoke a Cajun accent had come out. She was worried about being noticed and in that moment of slight panic figured a Cajun accent would be less conspicuous than a Canadian one.

The fifty-something-year-old, squat balding wizard that slouched against the backside of the bar looked up from his magazine and stared, blankly, at the young woman.  She was young, attractive and easy to watch, though it was requiring a bit more focus and attention than Manfred was accustomed to giving to understand the words that were actually bubbling from her lips. 

"Ah, bloody hell," Manfred muttered, sliding to the most current issue of Veela Vixens to the side and pushing himself upright.  He made little effort to hide the fact that this request was, obviously, a grave interference and she should be grateful he was willing to stop his current, important affairs.  Especially considering the provocative head tilt and wink the blond witch sidling across the magazine page offered him. 

"Well, I'm sure not her," Mannie offered, coarsely, an eyebrow quirking lower, suspiciously.  "Don't think he is, neither," he nodded his chin towards a thin, slightly twitchy, fresh-from-Azkaban wizard hunched at a nearby table.  "Unless she's taken to chugging her own polyjuice for the fun of it," he snorted at some personal brand of humor that, perhaps, only he could understand. 

The humor past, Mannie leaned against the bar, again.  It was impossible to tell whether the older ex-Azzie had simply not understood the request for a drink or if he hadn't, yet, bothered to retrieve it.  "She ain't here," he sneered, far less willing to forgive the young potioneer for her associations with recent problem customers than Cinaed was. 

The man's gruff attitude towards her made her somewhat homesick. It was obvious the older man didn't give a crap about his tips. As a bartender herself Lexus didn't think she could ever allow herself to be so rude to a customer even on days where the wolf wanted to come out to play. She did her best not to let her disapproval of his demeanor show on her features, it wouldn't do her any good to get kicked out before she could have her little meeting with Dazmond.

She widened her smile trying to appear as appealing as the Veela he had been reading about as she could, "No worries dere Cher. How bout jus da drink den?" She was somewhat shocked about how well she was able to pull off the cajun accent. She figured she owed it all to a certain saturday morning cartoon back home that had a card throwing cloak wearing Cajun that she had had a crush on, "Firewhiskey if it ain't too much trouble cher."

She pulled her attention from the gruff old man to look around the bar. She realized she was probably just too early for the meeting since the man was right and there didn't seem to be another woman in the joint. Her cool grey eyes fell upon the horrible sight of a badly injured mastiff. Lexus heartstrings were pulled and she lifted herself from the barstool leaving Manfred to debate whether he'd actual get her drink or not. She made her way over to the large dog who lifted it's scabbed head when she approached him. Lexus knelt down in front of the pooch and ran her fingers over his furrowed brow making good of staying away from his wounds.

She smiled softly as the dog began to pant excitedly and it's large tongue lolled out of the side of it's mouth, "What 'appened ta you cherie?" She scratched him around the ears with one hand while the other reached into the small pouch like purse she had brought along. She took out of miniature silver flask and unscrewed the lid. The dog's nostrils flared as the sweet honeysuckle smell of the potion inside wafted out. She held him under the chin put the flask to his lips and tilted it back. Her smile widened as the large mastiff eagerly lapped at the purple liquid that poured out, "There ya are cherie, dat make ya feel all bettah in no time."

Much to the loyal bartend's chagrin, Dazmond hadn't stopped doing business at the Black Chimaera post venom explosion, despite the recent Ministry attention the pub had garnered at the hands of her tab-building husband.  One might think a wise woman would stay clear of the foot she'd trodden on -- given her strong alliance to the Wizard held responsible -- but, on the contrary, she was doing everything in her power to be... a good neighbor... by contributing to business and making herself useful -- if not chummy -- with Tawse.  It was true that not all of the company of the Black Chimaera was as forgiving as he, who she'd even gotten to go out for a night of 'bonding' on Halloween with her freshly released husband.  Even that hadn't gone entirely... smoothly.  But Dazmond had been quick to throw them back together, hoping they might learn to tolerate each other again over a bit of good-natured rabble-rousing.

So Dazmond had settled to continue with business as usual, feigning oblivious to the griping ex-azzies' grumpy glares as they mumbled behind peanuts and over cards.  They would, eventually, need her talents themselves and -- she was sure -- all in time would be swept under the rug. 

But Dazmond was in the bathroom when Lexus had entered, and it seemed that Manfred was utilizing the opportunity to drive off her new client and snub her back for her troublesome allegiance.  When she returned to the table of cards she'd been sitting in on, however, it was only too obvious that the unfamiliar Witch in black lacey garb who was making friends with Seamus was the unregistered "L" behind the loopy script that had found her by owl.  She stole her ale from the table of men and dismissed herself wordlessly from their company.  It was an informal wandering away, hardly gaining an upward glance from the middle-aged Wizards she'd sat with. 

A set of solid boots stepped up to the pair and stopped.  Seamus the dog stopped his lapping long enough to sniff at the air and give a sharp whine at the presence he smelled.  Dazmond stood regarding the woman with the bottle with neither grin nor frown; her eyes were filled with guarded curiosity.

"Looking for someat?"

Lexus had a wide smile on her slightly frosted lips as she ran her hand down the dogs back happy that the poor creature was drinking so well. It wasn't your traditional healing potion that would be found at St Mungo's or any other healer's establishment. Years later Lexus was still practicing the skills she had learned from the native tribe she used to live with taking to their way of magic like a fish to water. She had a habit of keeping at least one dose of the sweet smelling potion on her at all times. It worked quickly and she found it helped when trying to get through the gruelling recovery from her monthly transformation.

She had no idea who the dog's owner was, or if he was just the bar's dog but she couldn't just let the poor thing suffer not when she could easily help him. If she was able to give him a daily dose of her potion the wounds would clear up within a week or so much faster than they would naturally and she could tell by just the smell of them that some horrible magic gone wrong accident had been the cause of the creature's misery.

Usually Lexus would have jumped at the sudden arrival of another person but she had been on alert ever since she had entered the bar and though she thoroughly denied being able to do so Lexus could smell the woman the instant she had come out of the bathroom and returned to the front of the bar. She took a deep breath and glanced up at the other woman matching her expressionless face, "Dat depends cher, you offerin' sumtin?"

Lexus had a good idea what Dazmond looked like due to her extensive research to make sure this was the person that was best suited to talk to about the matter at hand but she figured it was best to keep her guard up. It was obvious the other woman was being careful as well, even though the bar had a less than favourable reputation it was best to keep private business in private. Lexus got to her feet and looked down at the other witch, she was easily over half a foot taller than her. She fought back the natural and somewhat nervous instinct to smile, "Ms. Weidman?"

A good triple shower had, hopefully, flushed all of the potentially contaminated mortar dust from the lengths and lengths of hair.  This was, probably, one of those places where being able to use magic would make things infinitely easier.  One of those many, many places.  But, after a day of chiseling at burnt bricks, it seemed like he could catch whiffs of putrid runespoor ash even after four showers.  Though, it was probably just his mind playing tricks on him.

But, progress was being made - he almost had all of the old, damaged bricks cleared away.  Once he was sure they were gone, he could enlist the help of his wand-bearing friends to speed through the rest of the repairs.  With the face of the building cleaned up, there should be little risk of accidentally setting off any splattered venom.  That was the hope.  And, eventually, they'd have to try it.  That would be a nerve-wrecking day. 

With fresh clothes and his head heavy from long lengths of still-wet hair, Cinaed slipped out of his room and through the doors into the main room of the pub just in time to hear the dark-haired woman order a firewhiskey and Mannie to flash a slightly inappropriate gesture in her general direction as he turned back to the magazine.  She's looking for Brigg's wife, Mannie muttered, offering plenty of explanation for his less than civil behavior towards the woman.  A quick survey of the room revealed the woman in question was, indeed, sitting in a corner.  Chances were good Mannie was well aware of that.  Rather passive aggressively Mannie was, definitely, holding on as tightly as possible to his personal bitterness.  Cinaed shook his head, slightly, before pouring a glass of firewhiskey and approaching the woman and the dog. 

Dazmond was, also, making her presence known just as the strange woman poured something down the dog's throat.  Nodding towards Dazmond, Cinaed set the firewhiskey on a nearby table.  He wasn't one to hold grudges based on associations.  With good reason.  With a glance towards the bar, Cinaed had to remind himself the company he kept himself.  It would be a lie to say he was perfectly content with her husband but his beef was hardly with her. 

"'Preciate the sentiment but I wouldn't be too optimistic," Cinaed offered the stranger.  "Runespoor burns - I'm afraid they've had their share of salves and potions and everything else."  He nodded towards Dazmond.  He had full confidence that Dazmond had done everything and had continued to give Seamus anything she could possibly think of to help.  "From what I understand, it'll just take time, now."  With heavy thuds, the dog's tail slapped the floor four times before he set his chin back down on the bed.  He grew still - it was now near impossible to tell if the dog was awake or asleep.  "Need something?" he asked Dazmond as he started back towards the bar.

Dazmond's brows rose in response to the Werewolf's accent as she looked up at the woman.  Yes, she dealt with some strange folk, but never anyone who spoke like that.  It was interesting, but not really her business.  But she couldn't help noticing that the woman seemed demure, almost innocent.  There was a certain warmth behind her smile and Dazmond realized that she would have never guessed that the Witch had been affected by Lycanthropy.  She was attractive and had curves in all the right places; in short, she appeared to be in good health and of a merrier temperment.  Yet the way she held herself gave Dazmond little room to question why she hadn't just contacted the British Ministry to become registered.  Interesting.

"That'd be me," she gave in answer to her name.  And she nodded toward the dog, chiming in after Tawse.

"He's doing good for what he got," she said, feeling sorry for the foul dose of magics and injuries he'd sustained even after his face-full of venom.  There was only one worse thing than being covered in the stuff, and that was being subjected to spells in the aftermath.  With all of the sizzling that had taken place, there'd been no way to save his eyes.  And though she had dealt with some gruesome things over the years, the memory of operating on Seamus in that state still gave a sickening jolt to her stomach.  She imagined the poor beast didn't know whether to cower or wag his tail when she came around. 

Dazmond turned her head, watching Cinaed as he walked back to the bar and asked after her.  She looked in her stein -- nearly empty.  "I'll have a Dirty Auror," she said.  "Thanks, mate."

Looking back to "L", a small smile grew.  It was always exciting to gain a new client -- and Dazmond, as many knew, had a peculiar love for unregistered Werewolves.  "It's nice to meet you," she said.  "Why don't we get a table."  Dazmond led the way to an unoccupied table set away slightly from the others, a place that would offer them marginal privacy.  Not that one had to worry particularly much about undercover cops or rats in a place run by Tawse, but the woman might not be especially fond of letting the world know she was a less than tamed flesh-eating wolf once a month.  Dazmond tried to take care of her clients by keeping their information confidential.  Some Werewolves -- like her mate Brosio -- took to their intimidating, wolfish persona indiscriminately.  Others preferred to keep their little dark secret to themselves.  Daz set down her stein and bag, settling in comfortably, and rested her eyes on L. 

"Are you new to this?" she asked.  Then, clarifying her intentions, "I won't usually ask many questions.  Not unless it has to do with my services."  She considered the woman, looking her plainly in the face, uncertain if the bite was fresh or the topic sore.  "If this is your first dose," she explained.  "I should know.  There'd be a few tips I could share."

Lexus' mind clouded slightly as Tawse came to the front of the bar and approached the two women. She did her best to keep her head on straight and nodded along with what was being said about the dog. Although the dog's predicament was absolutely horrible Lexus was facing an internal struggle she hadn't dealt with in quite some time. The smell of the soap that Tawse had used on his hair had assaulted her senses in a rather pleasing way and when the tall brawny man had made his presence know her other senses had awakened. She fought back her animal attraction as she always did doing what she could to play mind tricks on herself to deny the new nature that had crept into her basic instincts. Lexus hadn't come across an attraction like this since she had first been bitten.

Lexus was more than thankful when Tawse left to refill Dazmond's drink and the women led her over to a table of their own. She turned her full attention to Dazmond then, the small respite giving her rational mind the time it needed to regain it's stubborn control over the wolf. She briefly glanced back to Seamus, "Poor ting, I cin guarantee he's 'ad nuthin' like that before." She thought back to the potion she had given him and briefly thought about the ingredients she'd have to collect to make up another batch.

She returned the smile Daz had given her grateful that the awkward caution seemed to have passed and they could get down to proper business. Lexus was feeling more and more comfortable by the minute. It was obvious at least to her that Tawse was the owner of the bar and had no current qualms with her being there and Dazmond seemed excited as any business woman would that Lexus was requiring her particular expertise.

"If ya mean sneakin' off to a questionable bar ta meet wit an expert potioneer, den yes I'mma lil new ta dis." She let a genuine smile cross her lips and gently shook her head rustling the loosely contained locks, "Sure ya cin tell I ain't from aroun here, used ta git mah potion steadily but bein' out here ain't so easy fer me, can't go back so I gotta make due, non?" She placed the small satchel purse she had on the table and took a swill of the firewhiskey, reveling in the feeling of it burning down her throat, "Be lookin' for a monthly supply if ya don' mind cher."

Dazmond briefly wondered what she had given the dog, secretly thinking to herself that it couldn't have been better than what he'd already been fed (although he did seem more ready to lap up L's concoction, to be sure).  But that was just Daz.  She was cocky, and liked to consider her wares the best.

Dazmond finished her ale in one foul swoop and sat back, nodding along with knowing little smiles well-placed as L explained her position a little more.  It sounded as if she was no stranger to Wolfsbane, which was a plus.  But as soon as there was tell of a need for a monthly supply, Dazmond smiled deeply and leaned forward a smidgen.  Steady clientèle were always favored by the Potions Mistress, and oh how she loved to brew Wolfsbane.  It was a real foot in the Ministry's mouth, as she was fond of saying.  She knew only too well how terrible they were with registration procedures.  A Werewolf really had nothing to gain by submitting themselves to the Ministry's scrutiny. 

"I'd be happy to keep you stocked," she said, pulling the bag of coins onto her lap for counting.  It was a quick matter of undoing the drawstring and peering in before she dropped the five galleons in her bag and extracted a large opaque bottle.  She set this on the tabletop and steadied her gaze on the Witch.

"On such short notice, I can't promise this moon won't be a little hairier than the next.  You'll want to drink nearly all of this beforehand, it's a larger dose than usual."  She had skimmed it off the top of Ambrosio's doses, knowing he wasn't always so eager to lessen his transformations.  "I'm told it's better than what you'd get at the Ministry, plus you have the advantage of staying off their radar.  Mine's a little more palatable, and it does good to drink it afterward, as well.  Takes off some of the pain, even if you don't have it beforehand; I'd save a swallow for the aftermath, see how it treats you.  Next month I'll have your own batches going steady, and you'll want to fetch them at the end of this month -- for full effect you should really be sipping on it for a few weeks." 

Dazmond nearly winced as the new Werewolf Capture Unit came to mind.  They had really made their debut during the last full moon, when their success was pinned all over the Prophets after the attack at the school.  Dazmond really felt as if she should say something; a Werewolf from overseas was not likely to have heard about this new British development.  And she was likely to transform later in the week, without having had enough time to introduce enough of the Wolfsbane into her system. 

"Later in the week," said Dazmond.  "It'll still be relatively rough.  You should get clear of towns that night, especially the Wizarding sort.  Usually I wouldn't much care where you spend your moons, or if you even choose to drink."  She lowered her voice.  "But the Ministry's hot on the tails of Werewolves, and you'll really want to keep your head down.  They've got their own Wolf, who's taken to hunting his own kind.  It's bloody barbaric."

Lexus nodded along with Daz's instructions. She wasn't about to disregard the warnings of an expert potioneer. From the sound of it her potion was going to be a lot better than the one she used to get from the Canadian Ministry every month. Although she didn't miss the horrible tasting swill they forced on her every full moon she did somewhat miss Philip, the Auror that had been put in charge of making sure she took her potion in accordance with her probation.

She took the satchel back now that Daz had exchanged the galleons for the vial. She had to admit it was a very smooth move. She doubted anyone was actually watching but if they were they'd probably have missed the smooth sleight of hand that the Potioneer was obviously deeply skilled with. She had a feeling she was going to enjoy these light encounters with her new 'best friend'.

She bit her lip when she mentioned steering clear of populated areas considering how close they were to the full moon. The transformation if it happened wouldn't be as bad and she was hoping she'd still be in control but it was better not to risk another Montreal incident. She wondered how she'd be able to sneak out of town for a day or two without Jonas getting suspicious. She had only been working for him for just over a week now so it wasn't like she could really ask for any time off.

As much as Lexus appreciated the warning she was shocked to hear that the Ministry not only had a specific werewolf capture unit but that it was headed by an actual werewolf. Oddly one thought went through her mind before she opened her mouth, We're definitely not in Kansas anymore, "Seriously they've got werewolves hunting werewolves?" She had been so surprised by the thought of it that she hadn't put any mind into using the fake accent she had concocted to try and keep her real identity a little less known. Her voice sounded a lot more genuine with a Canadian accent than the Cajun one.

Dazmond's lips thinned in an uncontrollable smile as the Werewolf's voice dropped its candied tone and Cajun accent.  A bit caught off guard, were we?  It was sort of adorable, and Dazmond didn't even think to hide her muted amusement.  Daz was hardly one to judge a person for taking on a disguise.  They all learned how to play the shady game at some point.  The accent had been brilliantly pulled off, but her new voice suited her much better and was recognizable to Dazmond as generally Western.  Colonial.  She'd heard it on a few muggle tourists in London.  As such, it spoke more of Hawaiian shirt bearing muggles by the Tower of London than it did fur traps and pine trees.  Dazmond was a sure case of ethnocentric ignorance.  She paid the hiccup little mind, but for an amused smile.

"Yes," she said.  "Welcome to the United Kingdom!  We have a very, er, progressive Ministry.  One that doesn't mind feeding a mentally unstable Werewolf some dreadful super-potion, so he can entertain his twisted self-loathing once a month.  It's punishment for Werewolves who don't obey the discriminatory laws."  She shook her head disapprovingly.  "But all that's avoidable with a steady bit of my brew.  And there's a handful of good-hearted rebels around who I could introduce you to, if you're into that."  Most of whom could hardly be described as 'good-hearted', but Dazmond had a curious view of the minority population of wild Werewolves. 

Dazmond appreciated anything and everything that gave way to a wild spirit, not to mention anything that stood up against the wishes of their dear old paternal authorities.  So it had been a natural leaning when Daz encountered her first unregistered Werewolf in London post-graduation.  She'd quickly learned to make a good batch of Wolfsbane, often finding that the rare rabble-rouser wasn't quite so concerned with drinking it every month.  She supposed that once they had a good taste of human flesh and the hunt, if they felt little remorse, they'd be bound to go back for more.  It was hardly Daz's business; she figured if you were dense enough to go out on a Full Moon, and not clever enough to steer clear of Werewolves, then you pretty much got what you deserved with a brutal mauling.  Daz of course went wildcrafting on the Full Moon every once in a while.  But she had always taken precautions, warned her Werewolf clients of where she'd be so they could place themselves safely at a distance, and fancied herself too clever to be caught in a claw-storm.

"Are you settling in Knockturn?"  Dazmond didn't want to assume, but it was where they all usually wound up.  Cast out by society, they could at least find a home in one of the few old hotels in the Alley that turned no one away, so long as they were shady enough to not seem like a nark. 

Lexus matched Daz's smile as she noticed she had spoke in her true voice. In a way it was a bit of a relief. Although it happened a lot sooner than she had hoped for she doubted she'd be able to keep up the charade should she be seeing Dazmond once a month. Perhaps it was best to get it out of the way right off the bat. Besides she had come to realize that most Europeans couldn't tell the difference between a Central/Western Canadian accent and an American one. Other than the east coasters and the southerners from the States all of them pretty much sounded the same. This was a fact that had become more prominent in her mind after Jonas assumed she was American.

"Well I guess I don't have to worry about that anymore now do I?" She added in her natural voice in regards to the Cajun accent she had been pulling out.

Lexus rolled her eyes as Dazmond made her welcome speech. It made her think back to one of the scariest days in her life. She had been on trial for her parents' murder. It was hard enough to hear that her parents had been killed but to stand up in front of the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement and be told that she had been the one to do it then to have the representative from Care and Control of Magical Creatures tell her she was a werewolf, Lexus had never been more horrified in her entire life.

"To be honest it doesn't sound much different than what they do back home, although I don't think they've ever used werewolves against each other, at least they never enlisted me." She mulled Daz's offer around in her head, "Thanks, I appreciate it but the more I stay out of trouble the better you know? Got into a heap of trouble back home and now I can't go back, don't need that mess following me back here." She sighed and pounded back to rest of her firewhiskey.

She scratched at her loose ponytail and shook her head, "No I've got a little flat down on Charing Cross road. Managed to get a job about a week ago and gathered up enough money to rent out the place month by month." She glanced around the bar to make sure no one was paying attention to their conversation, her cool grey blue gaze landing on Cin briefly before turning back to Daz, "For now, living amoungst muggles is the safest thing for me."

With her persona dropped and their conversation growing into the more personal sort, Dazmond listened more attentively, a rapt concentration donning her features.  And so surfaced the heightened interest she paid some of her customers, keen on being their guide and saving grace -- if only to establish her irreplaceable nature as a comrade and a resource of the finest sort. 

She had been in trouble, the runaway Werewolf from the West.  Dazmond guessed she had given way to her instinctual drive for a taste test.  There were the Werewolves who took their doses faithfully and locked themselves up tight and proper, restraining and repressing the animal within them.  And then there were those that grew curious, or who missed a dose and found they liked the feeling that crept up on them in the face of the Full Moon.  They were few and far between, thanks to the Ministry's firm grip on the situation, but Dazmond had to assume, as unsure as she was, that L's 'trouble' had to do with her being a Werewolf.  The discrimination was just too prolific and the Witch's countenance too sweet to consider it anything else.

"I can relate to that," she said, a little cryptically.  Sure, she wasn't a Werewolf, and the only discrimination she faced was as a part of the Knockturn Alley crowd, generally considered a nuisance and a danger to society.  But Daz had been a runaway in trouble only too recently, however proud she was to consider all of that over now.

She nodded and looked on as L spoke, but once she expressed her situation as being doomed to live among muggles, Dazmond winced.  That was a grim outlook, but she could understand somewhat where the lady was coming from.  If there was any sort of communication among Ministries -- and really, why wouldn't there be -- then her mugshot might be on the red-robes' watch list.  Then again, Daz was sure hers was, too (she'd just been down for a 'photoshoot' and to fill out paperwork for cryin' out loud).  But she knew where she could put down roots, now that she had an inclination to.

"Blimey, that's rough," she said.  "Well, if you're absolutely set on that, there's no better place than Charing Cross road," Daz conceded.  "But, if you ever need protection, Knockturn is likely where you'll find it."  Dazmond gave way to a silent spell for a moment, thinking of the alley and its recent disturbances.  She needed to talk to Cin -- it would all start with the repairs on the Black Chimaera, but she wanted to speak with him about the prospects of solidifying the neighborhood -- and keeping the Aurors out.

"Whichever way you go, I'd be happy to lend a hand; if you have any other potions needs, you can always just send an owl or look for me here.  We've had some trouble recently, so there's the occasional Auror strutting around, but I can always fix you up with a polyjuice -- if you have the need?  Do you think the Ministry here would have been contacted about you?"

Lexus smiled at the other woman. It was the first time in far too long that she felt comfortable around someone else. Sure there was Jonas and he was practically a Godsend letting her come back to the real world but there were certain things she just couldn't tell him, the main one being that she was a werewolf. Even being able to tell Dazmond that much was making her feel more at home here than in Jonas' charmingly disorganized office.

Lexus briefly wondered if Dazmond was a werewolf herself but soon dismissed the idea. With all the research she had done to make sure that Weidman was the right person to come to she figured she would have heard if she was a werewolf. It's not exactly an easy secret to keep, something she knew all too well. She just hoped she was good enough to keep it from Jonas. She had a feeling she wouldn't have a job for very long if he knew. Then again it was going to come increasingly difficult to find reasons why she couldn't work during the full moon if she didn't tell him. She figured she'd deal with that problem once she actually got to it.

"I'm working for a wizard right now as his assistant, just organzing paperwork and answering calls that sort of thing. So at least I'm not completely cut off from the real world." Lexus knew that it was hard to hear for some wizards that she preferred to live amoungst muggles. She understood their sympathy but believed it was unnecessary, having been a muggle born witch Lexus knew how take care of herself the old fashioned way without a speck of magic and now being on the run not using magic was a simple survival method.

Lexus gave her a wide smile, "I'll keep that in mind, I'm actually not a bad potioneer myself I've just never been able to handle the wolfsbane potion, it's a bit too complicated for me. I specialize in healing potions mostly." She sighed and looked at her empty glass, glancing over to see if Cin was busy. She looked back at Daz with alarm in her eyes, "Oh God I hope not. I did pretty well at covering my tracks getting over here but if they do know I'm here I need to keep my head down and my wits about me. Might not be such a good idea to hang around too many places that are likely to see red robes hanging around." She swiftly took mind of all those in the bar around them hoping none of them was an off duty auror, though in a place like this she doubted it.

Her sight fixed, Daz's mouth slid in a half-formed grin.  The runaway Werewolf healer from the West.  It was endearingly complex, this unraveling of her person.  Daz wasn't inclined to offer at this point, but in the back of her head she was imagining the two of them cooking stuff up together.  Companion brewing was far from a normality to the fiercely independent Dazmond.  But, for a good-hearted, talented Witch she could make an exception.  'Good-hearted' again, in Daz's books, being rebellious and troublesome to an alarming degree.  Potentiality was written all over the foreign Werewolf's face.

She nodded once in recognition of L's job description, thinking immediately of her heroine secretary gone brilliant, Theodora Kingstreet.  The woman had gone -- literally overnight -- from occasional client and superhero to Dazmond's personal attorney.  And she owed every ounce of respect in her body to the Queen of Kingstreet.   Her darling Nathan would doubtless still be locked up with Sellaphix had it not been for her well-written interference.  A secretive smile replaced her playful almost-grin, and Dazmond drew in a quick breath to respond.  But she held it -- for the Werewolf named L spoke again. 

She shook her head at the woman's apparent concern.  "No, I don't think so," she said.  "They may come around looking to be threatening, but they're rather horrible at the undercover bit.  I think every Witch and Wizard in their right mind down this alley knows their mugs well enough."  Dazmond followed L's gaze around the pub.  "No, these are all regulars.  Generally you can tell -- they either have the look of Azkaban, the squirming feel of one who's just nearly escaped it, or the rag-tag squirrelish types like me.  Aurors stick out in a place like this bad as a sore thumb.  There aren't any here now, for example."

Most of the inhabitants of the Black Chimaera today were people not far off from Manfred.  They were older, male, and generally ill-kept.  There was little one could do to replicate their appearance and mannerisms.  It was a specialty brewed by the worst sort of hold-up that the Wizarding world had to offer:  Azkaban. 

And for one reason or another, Dazmond was feeling like she might actually get a kick out of playing tour-guide.

"If you feel like you ever want help navigating the New World --" a statement followed by a cheeky sardonic grin.  "I'd be willing to show you around the Alleys, or Hogsmeade.  Hell, London itself has quite a few nosedives that are well-hidden away from muggle prowlings.  Just say the word if you need a guide.  Almost anytime.  You'll find I'm useful for more than just potions."