Adon, finally, had conceeded. His mother had been persistent. He needed a nice girl. He hadn't been out on a date -- a real one -- since he'd broken up with Thea and it was time. Hestia had been trying, for some time, to set Adon up with nice, Jewish girls. Daughters of her friends from the Jewish community. All of them witches. But they were harder to come by. She outsourced a bit: a Muggle Jew. Adon still refused.

And so, Hestia had begun to guess her son's type. He was not particularly religious; he humoured them on occasional Saturdays, but didn't even remember most of the prayers by heart any longer. She tried a different route. Hestia began to keep an eye out for young, ambitious, and nice witches of non-Jewish backgrounds. This was much more difficult to come by, for Hestia did not socialise much outside of her Jewish community, unless it was in the Magical community, with former associates before her conversion, but there, she knew of no females under the age of forty.

Except one that caught her notice: Agnes Estella Aalto-Smith, the Muggle-born engineer in her potion's class. She was certainly a clever witch, and pretty enough to interest Adon, she was sure. Adon, hearing the plan, was a little less sure, but had, in the end, capitulated. He'd go out on a date -- one date -- with his mum's student, so that he'd stop hearing about various eligible young ladies.

He only hoped that his mother had said significantly less about Adon to Stella then she had about Stella to Adon.

Adon had been forced to dress nicely for this, deviating from his typical converse-and-ripped-jeans, being told by his mother that he looked "so handsome" and she was "such a sophisticated young woman." This had rather the contrary effect, and while Dree might have responded well to having his mother ruffle his hair and kiss him on the cheek as he set out for a date*, it took Adon nearly the entire commute to Stella's out-of-the-way Muggle London flat before he was in good spirits again.

He stood on the doorstep, knocked on the door, and waited, taking a breath and dispelling it, noting the breath, like smoke, drift through the air in the December chill.

*Evidence and experience suggests, contrary to Adon's surmises, that Dreogan responds in a similar way to maternal affection.

She could see it all from here- Canary Wharf, London Eye, the large skyscrapers around Tottenham Court and Hyde Park. By the river, Stella had always felt the smallest, most insignificant person in the world.
It did not matter- not really: she was perfectly at ease here as well. Safe and at home. A train rushed over the bridge, breaking her train of thought right through, shifting her attention from the waves of the river back to the end of the day, which was coming a bit quicker than she had hoped.
The clacking of her heels echoed between the high apartment buildings to both sides of the river as she made her way to the apartment, mirroring the hurry she was in all of a sudden.

It might have not been the grandest of all ideas to agree to a blind date with her teacher's son.
Yes, Hestia was a very wonderful, nice woman and Stella had no reason to not think the best of her offspring. Then again she seemed exactly the type of woman who loved their children so much that she did not see how fat, spotty or dumb they really were.
Remembering her last blind date with someone looking like a crossing of Goofy and a shrimp, Stella pushed the key into the lock and prayed the evening would at least be nice enough to not be a torture.
Adon Eleor was a wizard and thus another possibility for Stella to find her place in a world she was still a stranger to. However things turned out, Adon would bring her a little more to this world- a little more to herself.

The last light of the day strayed through the bedroom, but the tiny woman had no time to appreciate the beauty of this moment. Instead, she dropped everything she had in her hands, her heels, her dress, everything and went straight for the shower.

It took ages for her to come out again. Ages for the light to vanish from this part of the world, filling the riverside apartment with darkness. Wrapped in a towel, she quickly hurried through the empty rooms, switching on lights, checking the surfaces and floors to ensure there was no dirt or unnecessary stuff lying around, puffing up pillows.
With almost half an hour to go and her heart racing like hell, the engineer chose to open the last bottle of Rose and sit down for a few minutes to regain her posture.
Maybe not the best idea, because the next thing she heard when she woke was the knock on her door.


"Shitshitshitshit- Holy SHIT!"
Agnes was up in an instant, not knowing where to run first. The towel fell to the floor and thus made a decision for her.
She grabbed it and made for the bedroom. There, she literally jumped into her underwear and a gigantic bathrobe that covered even her toes before heading to the door, taking a deep breath. Her apartment was in the basement, the door right opposite the entrance.
Slowly, slowly she turned the knob and opened the door a few inches, peeking out only with her nose and blushed in an instant. Holymotherofgod he was hot. 
Taking another deep breath, she got to the release buzzer and while she stared at his hotness on the screen, she held the receiver to her ear.

"Hi" , she brought out and smiled hesitantly. Silently she thanked herself for at least finishing make up and hair before passing out on the sofa. She forget that he could not see her through the loudspeaker and opening the door a little more (while trying to hide herself and her "gown" behind it) she fought the urge to apparate and die somewhere of embarrassment.
"I'm thinking i might need two more minutes, but there are glasses and wine on the table in the living room if you don't mind"

Without waiting for an answer, Stella buzzed the door open and rushed into her bedroom, firmly closing the door behind her.
There she remained for a moment, spying and wondering what he would do.

"Hi," came a voice, and Adon looked about sharply. First overhead, then, when more sound emmanated from what appeared to be a metal grate, he leaned forward towards it, squinting. What the hell? Muggle appliances. Their attempt at magic. It was disturbing, trying to talk to a disembodied voice; Adon didn't know where to look, so continued to eye the metal. . . cheesegrater from whence the sound came. ". . .Hi. . . Ah. . ." he managed cleverly before he heard a violent, whirring buzz that made him recoil slightly and put his hand upon his waist, where his wand was holstered. The sound suddenly stopped. Nothing seemed to happen. Not one thing.

Adon again looked about him, this time more anxiously. "Ah. . . Hi? Hello?" he asked, tapping the metal box, noticing that there were buttons with numbers on it. Adon was at a loss. "Is this. . .? he asked, not sure if she could hear him. It was silent.

Moloch! This was a mistake. He hated Muggle things. He never felt so helpless. He was learning; Adon had even surfed the internet a month previous for some practise, but it felt uncofortable. Like learning to walk at age 27. Just . . . wrong.

She had mentioned he was to go inside, however. Frowning, Adon reached for the handle and pushed. The door offered no resistance and Adon hid his disapproval. Muggles still had crime; she ought to at least lock the place up.

It was dark, but the room was well lit. And well-furnished. And huge. Adon gave a low whistle, before realising what he had done. This was more impressive than his place in Leadenhall. She doubtless had more money. He noted the furnishing, the mood of the place, drawing silent conclusions as he did so. She was tidy, clean. Organised. All three of these were separate things. And while Adon was certainly organised and clean, he himself was seldom tidy. But the place had a look of strategy behind it. Adon recalled she was maybe some sort of . . . she was in construction, he thought. Put buildings together. That probably made sense. He hoped she was not as boring as all that.

Well, if anything, the night would provide alcohol. Adon frowned a moment, circling the table that the glasses and bottle of rose were laid out on. Normally, it was impolite to drink another's alcohol. But, she had offered. . . and as the time whittled by, he found himself needing to do something rather than look at her things. It would be worse to poke about. And so, Adon settled himself across from the table and poured only a mouthful of the drink, setting the bottle back down and taking a slow, careful sip.

It was the good stuff. Of course, considering the apartment, this wasn't much of a surprise. She could clearly afford it.  That anyone would not budget for fine wine when they could did not occur to Adon; it just didn't make sense. Usually he didn't like drinks like this -- but this was an exception. Adon contemplated pouring a bit more, but wouldn't for the world. She might come in at any moment. He could see it now: she enters, finding his back turned to her, and is pour what appears to be the second glass in her absence.

He'd not come across as a drunkard in the first moments. While he was confident he could stomach much much more than this, it was best to appear moderate. Reserved. Girls didn't like drinking, after all. Or, at least, Thea had led him to believe that.

Realising that his back was still towards the direction she would eventual emerge from, Adon rose and moved more towards the door -- less invasive -- and contemplatively sipped at the drink.

Stella took what felt like the zillion-st long, deep breath. It was impossible to remain there, her cheek and shoulder resting on the door like a spy in her own house.
The wood felt cool against her cheek, but no matter how close she tried to get to that other side without opening the door-
the sound of her heart racing predominated it all and she could not hear a thing. Steps, maybe.

In all her theories and fantasies concerning this evening it had never occured to her that he could ever be someone she could actually fall for. Someone she liked in a romantic way.
It had been more of  "How do I not laugh if he looks like a human Quaffle" fantasy. That man outside was...He was so...

She closed her eyes and tried to remember the time before James. There had not been a time after him, not that she could recall. Not in a romantic sense and not in a nice way, either.
People always felt obliged to bring singles together, organise blind dates or "couple dates" with "oooppss..you two are the only singles? What a funny coincidence" comments and an immense amount of awkwardness.

No one ever remembered their own times as a happy single person. No one remembered the subliminal pain and memories of lost relationships that did not ebb away.
That came back and fed on the disappointment of each blind date with a Goofy-shrimp, remaining just there. Laughing in your face, saying
"Remember what he used to say?
What you used to do?
How it felt?
The love?"
One could so easily forget how one felt like a teenager on first dates. How it felt to be in love. A broken heart never did.  It lived on it. Died on it.

She shook her head, but the thoughts did not scatter. So Stella stepped away from the door and took the bathrobe off, just letting it happen. Not that she had had another choice- Adon was already sitting here, after all. On her sofa. Because she agreed to meet him. At least he's hot , she thought, reaching for the night blue material of her dress. He could be an arse if he felt like it, as long as she could stare, the evening might have been worth getting through with. The 5’1.8'' short engineer needn't hope for anything more.

That sounded almost sane to herself, but her slightly trembling hands that now lay the jewelry told an altogether different story. 
And most of all not sweat. If the conversation and awkwardness didn't turn the evening into a disaster, the smell and sight of sweat always would.

By the time Stella was dressed and had her shoes on, all thoughts of panic had successfully been talked away. A last glance in the mirror and with a hesitant, yet uncompromising warm smile, the witch switched the lights off and stepped out of the bedroom. "I'm ready to go, finally" she called through the hallway, bursting the silence upon the apartment.
He stood there already, waiting, and once more she felt guilty for falling asleep. "I am so so sorry. Women. We're impossible."

"Well, obviously you're Adon and I'm Stella," she grinned and extended her hand, "So nice to meet you."

He heard her voice again and nodded. Finally was perhaps a very accurate description; he knew that women liked to make the man wait, but usually not on a first date. And not alone in a front room. At least she was aware that this was an absolute. . .

And when she entered, Adon had to re-evaluate. Yes, worth the wait. He's always known his mother was a genius. As she approached closer, however, Adon got a notion of just how very . . . tiny she was. He was afraid he might crush her. But she didn't seem daunted. He liked that.

"Women's impossibility has its own charm," he said with a light wave of his hand. "It keeps men working towards something."

A smirk graced his features as he nodded at her introduction. A. . . hand shake. Well. Adon hadn't quite been expecting that. He gave a light laugh, clasping the hand, but not shaking it too much.

"Pleasure's mine," he responded, reminding himself to put a bit more charm and a bit less of his customary sarcasm in his smile. She was dressed nice. Very nice. The way the soft fabric of her shift draped across and clung to her figure . . . Adon had to stop looking, had to stop his eyes from tracing to folds of the shift. "You look stunning," he complimented, remembering at least to give voice to his thoughts. Even Thea, who generally scowled at any physical compliments, liked to be told she looked nice.

Adon glanced down at the heels. They were high. Very high. And she was still a good head shorter than he. Just how short was she? He considered the shoes. That . . . changed things. Adon couldn't exactly do just anything on this date, now. Not with her wearing those heels. Adon thought quickly. "So, I was thinking for tonight we'd start with dinner. . . you haven't eaten yet, correct?" He pressed on, assuming the answer would be 'no.' What girl ate before a date? (Or -- Adon had to consider some of the girls he had taken out -- on a date, either.) "My mother says you've been living in the Muggle world for most of your life," he began. "Have you seen a movie called Breakfast at Tiffany's? I'm told they do this thing in the movie -- they each try something they've never done before. So, tell me, have you ever. . ." The initial plan of walking across the Millenium Bridge and picnicing atop St. James -- an idea shamelessly taken from his brother -- might be out of the question. ". . ." Adon gave a light sigh and said, "I just have to ask how well you can walk in those, first, before I throw out ideas. I might be mistaken, but they don't look very comfortable. Is this another feminine impossibility?"

Smooth, Eleor. Smooth.

"Women's impossibility has its own charm.It keeps men working towards something."

She laughed softly, the tips of her curls shivering. "Is that so? I always thought that is just the particularly annoying bit."

The blushing was inevitable. Agnes had never been good at handling compliments no matter how much time she had invested beforehand in choosing her outfit. Another bit of womens' impossibility: they spent days choosing their outfit, the jewelry, the shoes and then it took hours to do the hair and the make up. Only to blush when they got compliments on it. Wasn't that what they intended?

Staring at him a little gobsmacked, Stella noticed how her mouth fell open a little as her eyebrows raised. Something about dinner, then his mother, then Breakfast at Tiffany's and...huh? wait, what?

The engineer laughed out loud, eyes closed for a moment, throwing her head back slightly. It was more out of surprise, but nontheless from the heart. One glance towards the ceiling, she shook her head to reorganize her thoughts.
"Oh Lord, I think you just swept me off my feet completely," she touched his arm for an instant as if establishing a connection, smiling widely. She had not needed any more evidence that this would be an exciting evening with a genuine guy when she saw him - and yet she got drowned in them.
"Okay, give me a second to get over this," shifting her weight onto one leg, she grinned.
"When I agreed to this i thought i was having to live through just one more night of dating horror with someone who had no idea of ...anything, really."

"Okay, well...." Stella looked down at her shoes, thinking, "I was kind of born with high heels. If I do not wear them chances are someone says something as appropriate as 'I think I heard a sound in the hollow of my knee' and looks around frantically as if searching for a mosquito..."
She remembered her brother-in-law sharing his newest dwarf jokes when her mother had forced her to walk about barfeet on her precious new parquet floor last christmas.
"For the record: I do neither bite nor suck blood just because i'm smaller and quicker than most people. I do buzz on occasion, though."

The muggleborn  sighed and formed her lips into a mixture of pursing and pouting, looking a frog gone wrong. It was odd habit she had developed in university, when she already had an idea in her head but couldn't herself to go through with it.

"I have never done it with shoes, but we practiced a shrinking spell last week. I could try and shrink a pair of boots and if my feet start to hurt - and you promise to make no more than 10 dwarf jokes tonight," she added, winking "...I can always change."