[December 2, 2008]

"Not even my second day back and they're already keeping me past," Kevin complained to himself, glancing at his watch to see that it was clearly 6:38, when he should have been walking out the door at 6:01.  He traveled light, with only his wand, a small pocketful of change, and his watch.  Without his usual shoulder bag and heavy cloak (it had been unusually sunny and warm within the Ministry) Kevin felt a trip 'home' (to his temporary room at the Leaky Cauldron) to drop off his things to be unnecessary.

The last two nights Kevin had spent in the Leaky Cauldron, having not yet secured a place of his own.  Likewise, the last two nights he had spent drinking at the ol' Leaky.  "Time for a change, Hargrove," he said, stepping into an alley and apparating on the spot.

"Ah," he said, "Poe's Tavern."  Kevin stepped through the door, hearing the familiar jingle of the door's bell.  It had been over 6 years since he had been in Poe's last, and the only thing that had changed was that the windows seemed to have gotten darker, the floor dirtier, and the partakers older.  "Well, I'll be damned," the Bartender looked up from his pour, spilling another patron's drink on his hands.  "If it isn't the eldest of the clan.  How have you been, boy?"

Kevin smiled his killer smile and stepped up to shake the man's hand.  "It's been good, sir.  I've been living in France, just got back into town..."

They exchanged further pleasantries--the Barman was quite the talker--until Kevin managed to get away, drink in hand.  He found himself a small table off to the left side of the room, sitting with his back to the window.  It was a favorite pastime of his to sit and drink, watching the other patrons of the bar.  There was never a dull moment in Poe's Tavern.  The seedy customers and outwards location left it a good place to see interesting, if not criminal, things going on.  Taking a sip, Kevin leaned back and watched.

Why was she here?

Melanthe Grumman could not begin to explain what possessed her to step foot in such a small and obscure establishment as this one. And a pub, no less! It was quite foreign to the socialite who usually frequented sophisticated clubs and the like.

Alas, it had been her brother, Arturo, who had requested this be their meeting location and though she had grown to dislike some of his quirks, the part of her that missed her family (and actually yearned for some sort of companionship) thought that she should at least try to bond with him.  And the last time the two siblings had connected, he had ambled into her territory and now it was her turn to venture into his.

She had dressed considerably more conservative and casual than she usually did for her social events as she really did not figure this outing would be much more than her and Arturo talking and drinking.

She stepped into the pub and after one look around and not seeing him, she sighed, feeling out of place and hoping she wouldn't be kept waiting long. She might die of boredom if her brother did not show up soon. Knowing him, he would obliviate himself and forget to meet her on purpose just for fun.

Pursing her lips for a moment, Melanthe thought about getting a booth for the two of them and wait, but eventually she made her way to the bar to order a drink. By the time she got there, she came up with a suitable choice and when the bartender gave her the look that essentially asked what she want, she told him, "Stoli with a splash of cranberry juice." And before he could walk away to prepare it, she leaned further over the bar and stipulated, "And I mean just a splash of cran." She made an indication with her slender fingers of the amount. "The juice will only water it down and I just like a bit of the taste." She raised her brows as if to inquire if he understood and though he nodded and walked away, Melanthe wondered if he would actually get the order just the way that she liked it.

Again left to wait, the dark witch lounged up against the bar but turned slightly to get a look at some of the other patrons. Most of them looked older than dirt, but Melanthe's eyes eventually settled on the most attractive gentleman in the place sitting not too far away.

Kevin had spotted the beauty the moment she had stepped through the door.  She was considerably clean and well-kept for the clientele that normally wasted away their time in Poe's.  She was dressed in all black, donning silver jewelry and stellar heels.  For a split second, he thought of Analiza and the heels she used to wear, before he forced his mind back to the present--back to the woman at hand.

He nonchalantly watched her as she looked around and sidled up to the bar.  Taking a sip here and there of his straight whiskey, he was nearing to refresh his own drink at the bar when he heard her order.

"Stoli with a splash of cranberry juice." And before he could walk away to prepare it, she leaned further over the bar and stipulated, "And I mean just a splash of cran."

It was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud.  Kevin had known the bartender (and owner of Poe's) since childhood; Kevin knew that he was a no-nonsense kind of fellow who couldn't make many drinks more complicated than a whiskey sour or rum on the rocks.  It was for this reason that many younger patrons did not often frequent the place as their requests for wishy-washy drinks often resulted in them drinking something not remotely close to what they had desired.

After she ordered, Kevin watched her turn and look around again.  Finally, though he was examining his drink, he felt her eyes land on her.  With a brief glance, he stood up and walked to the bar--being careful not to look at her, but to see if she would watch him.  "Avram," He called the bartender who was busy staring at a dusty bottle of vodka.  The bartender looked up.  "Give the lady two parts of the finest vodka you have with a little splash of the dark red juice that I'm positive your wife stocks for you--she is worried about another heart attack, you know.  Oh, and a refill." 

"Kevin Hargrove, you're a real smart-ass, you know," he poured more whiskey into Kevin's glass,  "Just like your father." Avram turned and walked to the back to retrieve cranberry juice.  As he returned, he prepared her drink and placed it on the bar.  "Did you bring her here?  She sure didn't come here to look at me..." He trailed off, returning to the back of the pub.

Kevin turned to the woman and slid her drink closer to her.  "You better enjoy it, Avram probably only makes an effort with it once every ten years.  You're better off ordering something straight if you have any hopes of it being right."  Placing a few coins on the table, enough to cover both drinks, he gave the woman a wry smile and returned to his own table with his drink, smiling inwardly to himself.

Melanthe had felt a certain amount of contempt from the bartender before he turned away, muttering something about preparing her drink.  She did not much care about how much of a nuisance she was in such a demanding request. Her brother's choice in bars had already made her testy and the idea of drinking something dreadful annoyed her even more.

As her eyes latched onto the one good looking man in the establishment and followed him as he approached the bar, Melanthe could sense a certain amount of amusement emanating from him, likely caused by her drink selection. She narrowed her eyes when he stepped up to the bar next to her and told the bartender how to prepare her drink. She listened to the bartender chide the man for his comments and was about to fire off a retort of her own but opted for a more good natured tactic at the last minute.

She bit her tongue and turned away from him, tucking strands of her luscious dark hair behind her ear before murmuring,  "I apologize for being so difficult." She shrugged and drew little designs on the bartop with her fingertips as she waited impatiently for her drink to arrive.

When it did, bringing with it more snarky quips from both the bartender and the man , Melanthe's lips curled into a smirk. She held up her hands in surrender and exclaimed with a laugh, "Okay, okay! I know I should probably be less....demanding....about what I like." She turned again to watch as Hargrove walked away. 

She snatched up the drink and followed him to the table he had sat at before.

How dare he walk away from her and they had barely begun to flirt!

She looked down at him, tilting her head to one side for a moment before she rested her free hand on her hip. "Mr. Hargrove, it is? May I sit?"

"Mr. Hargrove, it is? May I sit?"

Kevin looked at the way she placed her hand on her hip, accenting her well-toned curves.  Her hair dangled enticingly around her face, though Kevin had a feeling that she wasn't a cheap date.  Her shoes looked far too new (a sign Kevin had discovered usually meant she had enough money to have more shoes than any person could ever possibly need) and her fingernails and hair were extremely well-kept, another expensive 'need' many women had.

"Why, of course," He said with a smile.  He stood and took a step around the small two-man table.  He pulled out the other chair for her and indicated for her to sit.  "Please...be my guest."

'Kevin Hargrove: 1; men of the world: 0.' Kevin thought wryly as he watched her sit. 'You're getting better and better at this; ten years ago, she might have thrown her drink on you and then made you buy her another.'

"But, please, call me Kevin.  Mr. Hargrove makes me sound so..." He paused for a moment to think, then gave her a coy smile, "dignified."  He took another sip of his drink, the whiskey strong on his tongue and warm in his throat.  He wondered briefly how hers tasted as there was no telling how long the cranberry juice had been sitting in a cupboard. 

"Well, seeing as you know my name, may I have the pleasure of knowing yours?" He asked, setting his glass down onto the table and leaning back slightly in his chair, running one of his hands through his slightly unsettled hair.

As soon as he offered her the seat, Melanthe moved to take it. She was surprised that he stood to come and pull the chair out for her, since that seemed to be a courtesy most men forgot about these days. So unless they were rich and pureblood and expected to be well mannered, she had come to not expect it. This was a pleasant surprise, considering she knew very little about her acquaintance. At least she knew he had some class.

Sliding seamlessly into the chair, she had already determined that her mission for the night while she waited for her brother to arrive was to find out what else she could about this man.

It was on Melanthe's tongue to supply him with the word 'old' to finish his next sentence, something which he most certainly was not. She was pleased that he insisted on using his first name instead, something more intimate and interesting. She watched him sip from his drink before she obliged him with her name. "Melanthe Grumman. And you're welcome to call me Melanthe..."

She paused and smirked. Instead of sipping from her drink, she traced the rim of her glass with her fingertips. Then she mused, "So I take it you come here often. Quite obviously, I do not." She might have tossed him another apologetic smile, but she was not worried about how that comment might make her look. She glanced around the place before musing, "But my brother seems to like this place. For it's charm, perhaps? He works at the ministry and comes her to unwind."

Kevin watched her as she sat down; she moved with a grace that was not quite worthy of the dingy chair she sat in.  He wondered why she even came into a place like Poe's...especially not dressed like that. 

"It's quite the pleasure to meet you, Melanthe," He let her name roll softly off of his tongue. 

"So I take it you come here often. Quite obviously, I do not.  But my brother seems to like this place. For it's charm, perhaps? He works at the ministry and comes her to unwind."

"Actually, I haven't been here in years.  Avram, the bartender, is just an old family friend.  I've recently moved back to London, but I lived in France for most of my life," Kevin decided to ignore acknowledging the comment she made of her brother; he usually did not tell strangers that he was a hitwizard.  Being one often put quite a target on one's back. 

Smiling, he took a sip of his drink before saying softly, "Mais je suis content je me suis déplacé, parce que les femmes sont beaucoup plus beau ici."  He wasn't sure if she knew any French or not, but he smiled wryly as he took another sip of his drink.  French, in his opinion, was the most beautiful language in the world, and this Melanthe seemed like one to appreciate beauty.

"So, how is your drink?  There really is no telling how old that cranberry juice is."  He chuckled and drained the rest of his whiskey from his glass.  Placing the glass back onto the table, Kevin glanced at the bar to see Avram eyeing him carefully.  He arched his eyebrows at the man and watched Avram turn around, laughing heartily.

Melanthe found herself now hoping that her brother would continue to run late  so that she might be able to engage in conversation with the man for a while longer. She liked the sound of her name falling from his lips. So often she found herself cringing when those with the harsher British accents spoke her name. But he said it with the ease of someone who was cultured in a different way.

This was confirmed when he mentioned that he had lived in France for much of his life. She lazily tilted her head to one side as he proceeded to speak to her in French. It was a beautiful language and Melanthe did indeed speak it in addition to her native Russian, English and Parseltongue (which very few were privy to knowing). She smiled as she silently translated the words he spoke and her lips curled into a smirk when it was clear he was aiming to be charming. With an arch of her brows, she challenged, "Alors peut-être vous devriez envisager de se déplacer en Russie. Les femmes sont beaucoup plus belles là."

Pleased with her witty response, her eyes danced with amusement. She then turned her attention to her drink. Noting that he had finished his, she decided that she was holding up the next round of beverages. Picking up her glass, she took a small sip from it at first. After a nod of approval once the taste registered, she returned the glass to her lips and downed the rest of it. Setting the her now empty glass next to his, she said, "It was fine. But perhaps I'll make it easier on Avram this time and simply drink what you're drinking. Unless--" she paused for dramatic effect. "You don't think it's a drink a woman like me should be drinking..."