It was a cold, bitter day when Michael Dark paused outside the window where his ex-wife sat. It was a lucid day, calming day, otherwise he might have broken the glass.

He'd been on the run for months now, but he was living a pleasant life. Granted, anything would seem pleasant after Azkaban. But try as they might, the little Aurors couldn't touch him. The Dark estate was too twisty and unkind to outsiders, even when they got permits to venture inside; its back halls and hidden rooms would never give him away. And outside the home, Michael barely paused- now in London, yesterday in Cardiff, a few weeks before in Hogsmeade for a stolen moment with his girls. He didn't avoid the places he'd once frequented, but he didn't have to when he could change his face as easily as he could supply a false name. Yes, he had a dandy life. It wasn't missing anything except the woman in the window.

Now, just to be clear, depending on his mood she was missing from his bed... or his makeshift gallows... his home, when he was alone at night... or a ditch at the side of the road. Generally Michael leaned more towards the ditch or the gallows, but who could blame him? Even if he hadn't been a madman, Audrey was poisonous. Beautiful, breath-taking, bewitching... but poisonous.

He nearly broke the glass anyway, she looked so lovely framed at a table with her coffee. Waiting for someone, perhaps? He'd kill them if she were. The thouht spurred him into action, and he left abruptly, the unfamiliar - highly noticable - man standing outside the window, breathing heat onto the freezing glass and looking at her like she was either an angel or a demon. So yes, Michael left.

But only to the next corner, which he turned - and changed - and then a good-looking man of 30-some years emerged, his white teeth gleaming against his golden skin and his dark hair curling against his collar. He entered the cafe and slid into the seat across from Audrey, eyes crinkling as he smiled, and voice low, intimate:  "Sitting alone?" he purred.

It was a nice day to relax, and Audrey felt that she deserved it. Despite the bleak winter weather, she was in a rather good mood. The Paris show had been a success. And while things didn't go exactly according to plan with Erin, Audrey still thought that her youngest daughter got some good out of it. And then of course, she picked up a few new clients as well, which was always a good thing.

The holidays were just around the corner, and Audrey was happy to say that all of her shopping was done as well. At least, all of the shopping that she had assigned to her assistants had been completed. And with the two little disobedient brats refusing to come home for the holiday, that meant that Audrey could use the money intended for their gifts and get more stuff for Erin. Well, Mikey was still there too, so she had someone pick up one extra thing for the boy. But Erin was getting a whole new collection of shoes and accessories in addition to the items that had already been purchased, including some jewelry which Audrey had seen her daughter eying at the fashion show.

Today was her day of rest though. No designing or creating to do, no paperwork to sign, nobody to fire for inevitably screwing up their job.  Audrey had made her way into town to visit a friend (friends were rare, yes, but Audrey did possess a few) and stopped for a short cup of tea before going home. While this particular coffee shop didn't offer the best decor, their tea and coffee was simply amazing, so Audrey made a point to stop in there whenever she was in the area.

And while it was her day off, Audrey could never be too far from her work, so while she sipped on her tea, a notebook lay open in front of her, specifics from her newest client on what products they were looking for. It shouldn't be too difficult, Audrey was already formulating the design in her mind when she got a strange feeling that she was being watched. Audrey glanced up from her notebook, looking around the cafe. But everyone was focused on their own company and conversation. Odd. The streets outside were quite empty as well, and Audrey had looked away from the window too quickly to notice that there was one spot of thawed pane, as if someone had been standing there just a moment ago.

The presence of another person and a low voice brought Audrey out of her thoughts and she glanced up at the stranger, annoyed that someone would so boldly join her. "As a matter of fact, I was. And with good reason..." But her tone softened and her sarcastic remarks trailed off as Audrey got a look at her 'visitor.' She took in the clean-shaven face, the pressed shirt, and smooth tan- he was pretty cute. And there was no use in running off such a handsome face, now was there. "....I hadn't met the right company yet. But you're more than welcome to join me. Would you like some tea?" Audrey waved for a service personnel, while keeping an eye on the man across from her. This could be interesting. 

She began to snap at him, but Michael had played this well. He knew her, knew her likes; she wouldn't turn a handsome man with a devilish smile away.

"Forgive me for saying so, but you looked so pretty in the window I just had to come in," he said. His dark eyes raised to hers, the edge of a smile playing about his lips. "A lovely sight for thirsty eyes; I couldn't resist. Hope you don't mind."
 
There was the faintest Irish brogue in his voice, a rolling, there-and-gone-again accent that Michael had to simulate himself. The timbre of a voice depended on one's body, but the inherent tone of his voice never changed no matter what he chose to look like. He had to imitate that all on his own (another reason to never shape-shift into a woman). Accordingly, Michael was very very good at accents, like the one he used now, to mask his smooth Welsh vowels. On the the run, it hadn't mattered much - the Aurors didn't know him well enough to recognize his voice - but Audrey? Oh, she'd have to know him anywhere. He'd almost be disappointed if she weren't to notice now, but not so disappointed as to let his accent slip. Yet.

He told the server hot chai instead of tea, and when the waiter returned with his cup, Michael reached out for it and thanked him. There was nothing but decieving warmth in his smile, as calculated as the subtle flash of a wedding ring (previously a pebble) on his finger as he took the mug.

It had been a little while since Audrey had "been out" with a guy. Not too long (she definitely hadn't lost her spark or anything) but with the recent fashion show and the holiday season coming around, she had just been busy with work and other things. So men had slipped to the back of her mind, while her focus was completely on getting all of her other priorities finished.But now that things were slowed down, well, she could definitely make time. Especially for this very handsome stranger sitting across from her.

"Forgive me for saying so, but you looked so pretty in the window I just had to come in...A lovely sight for thirsty eyes; I couldn't resist. Hope you don't mind."

She smiled up at the man, closing her notebook and setting it aside. "Not at all. Who am I to deny such a charming face?" Audrey knew how to play this game, and she could already tell that playing the shy/coy card wasn't the best tactic for this man. He knew what he wanted, and he was going for it. Audrey knew that personality so well because it was the same as her own. Determined and focused. Those were good characteristics for achieving one's goals.

Studying his physical features and his voice, Audrey found herself wondering who he was, and what he was doing in the area. She had never seen him before, that was for sure, but there was still something slightly familiar about the man in front of her, that Audrey couldn't quite put her finger on.

When the waiter came back with the man's drink, Audrey noticed the ring, but said nothing. This could definitely end well in her favor. If the man was so bold as to approach her in that manner, and he was married, then he was only after one thing. And it wasn't idle chit-chat. It didn't bother Audrey one bit that the man was married. It's not like Audrey was completely loyal during her own marriage to Michael. There are all sorts of reasons for infidelity, none of which really mattered to Audrey. She wasn't married anymore, so whatever came of this little interaction, there would be no guilt from her.

"You have such a nice hand structure..." Audrey reached out and took hold of the hand (the one devoid of the ring) and turned his palm over, tracing her finger along the lines there. "Have you had a reading recently? You've got the perfect palm...the lines are easy to read." She wasn't really reading his palm-although she very well could have, but Audrey did have some decency. She wouldn't actually do it without his permission. It was just a ploy, an action to get that physical contact; to let this stranger know that she was interested in whatever he wanted, by lightly running her fingers along his hand, keeping the touches flirty and inviting. "Are you from around here, Mr....?"

Michael didn't like chai, which was why he'd ordered it, but after years of rotting in Azkaban even the overspiced tea tasted good. The warmth was welcome enough, but he wondered, fleetingly, whether the pretense was even necessary. Audrey probably didn't know whether he liked chai or not, no more than she'd known what he'd really been working on at the Ministry. The cup in his hands until Audrey drew one away was an anchor against the sudden rage that swirled up at the thought that she'd never bothered to know him. That he hadn't let her - that he'd been secretive, then and now, sly like a fox and twice as cunning - didn't cross his mind. She should have known. She should know now! His hands tightened white-knuckled around the mug before he set it down, trying not to shake.

But he covered trembling hands with a dazzling smile, keeping Audrey's gaze on his face. "Miss is very complimentary," he murmured. "But you could be kinder - give me your name?" Ah, but he had her attention now, and the whole of it; Michael should have felt satisfied, but he still wanted more. This meeting had just begun, the faint slap of the notebook on the table signaling its true start. He had her, and the thought made him near giddy with vicious delight. . . but he did not have her as her husband, and that thought was enough to turn the delight to resentment.

Anyone would think he wasn't over her, but that was ridiculous. He'd had plenty of time to get over her. His years in Azkaban had been spent dreaming of her pale, lovely throat, but of it cut - and not of kisses, but curses. Betrayal was a deep wound, one that never healed. He was enraged and hurt by the little things, like the way her eyes barely paused on his wedding ring, or how she'd remained beautiful while he rotted and had only his ability to make him look half the man he'd been. But Michael, in a surprisingly introspective moment, didn't think he was quite crazy enough to cut his ex-wife's throat in a public cafe.

But then again, he was wearing someone's face, no one knew either of them were here, and he WAS crazy enough to fire off spells to help his escape. So maybe he just didn't want to kill Audrey yet. He'd have to work his way up to that. Either that, or wait 'til she made him much more angry. He thought she'd almost managed it with her careless flirting, the way she deliberately took the hand free of rings to touch and stroke, but after one flash of searingly disgusted temper it was gone, and he turned his hand over before she could read the lines and discover him. His fingers curled around her own.

Hand structure, he snarled to himself, but that was it.

"Mine's a very dark future, love," he said, although he was still smiling. "Complete with an even more wicked past. I don't think you'd want to read it. Wouldn't want to scare you." He shifted in his seat, leaning a little closer over the table without seeming deliberate and over-eager. His dark eyes raised to hers, dizzyingly blank for a moment before he crinkled them to match the smile.  "Mr. Alain O'Monaghan, of Ulster." It was an alias he'd never used before, but it was deliberately chosen; short of picking an anagram of his own name, Michael couldn't think of anything more effective in furthering his plans than choosing the name of a lesser-known pureblooded Irish family. The blood was important.