Donna walked down the middle of the street, not minding that she was bumping into people left and right. She was slightly, scratch that, very angry with just about everything. To start off things it was the middle of the day and the sun had chosen to stick its bloody head out from behind the glorious clouds that had been oh so kind as to hide it till now. Next, in order to be properly attired for her interview today, Donna had opted to not where her muggle clothes and done her black silk witches robes that were damn uncomfortable. Another thing that irked her, following the same vein of complaints, was that Donna had run out of her favorite dye this morning and didn’t have enough time to run out and get some. This meant her signature dreadlocks where the platinum blonde color of her natural hair. So there Donna was stalking down the middle of Knockturn Alley, fists clenched at her sides and eyes darting about waiting for some one to say something to her.

The reason that she had been forced to venture from her abode were quite simple really, Donna was in need of a job. She already had one of course, peddling illegal goods on the black market, but with the recent crackdown by the M.O.M the goods she was able to get were fewer and fewer and the people who wanted to buy were scarcer and scarcer. So when the last of the gold she allowed herself to spend on things like food, clothes, and rent ran out Donna was forced to turn to the Job Market. Luckily for her, after only a few days of looking Donna heard that a bar called the Black Chimera was looking for a fulltime bartender, just the sort of job that Donna was looking for. Donna had always had a weird obsession with alcohol and the almost infinite ways one could combine it, not to mention the fact that when the Market picked up it would be the perfect place to hawk her goods.

There was, however, one small problem. Donna had no idea where the hell this bar was. The man who had been so kind as to “tell” her about the job had no idea where it was. This, Donna suspected, was a complete lie, but the man passed out before he could “tell” her anything else. After turning yet another corner and not seeing her destination, Donna threw back her head and screamed a scream that would have made a Banshee cringe.

“There a problem here little lady?”

Donna froze her body taunt as a tight wire. Then, after a moment, she smiled a devious smiled to herself and turned around to address the man. At the sight of him Donna internally cringed. The man was fat and bald with a grease stained robe and that lecherous look in his eye that most men seemed to look at her with. She gave him those bedroom eyes and licked her lips, which were the color of evergreens today.

“I was wondering if you could help me? I seem to be a little lost sir.”

The man smiled, revealing his yellow teeth and the black holes where some teeth appeared to have rotted out.

“Of course, come ‘ere an o’l Barry take care of ya.”

“Oh thank you sir!!”

Donna ran over and grabbed the man’s arm, silently retching in her mouth and physical contact with this vermin.

“Now where do ya need to go?”

“I’m looking for a place called the Black Chimera; do you know where it is?”

The man gave another lecherous toothy, or rather toothless, grin at her.

“Of course I do, why I’m good friends with the owner. It’s right this way.”

With those words the man began leading Donna towards an alley that she knew wasn’t the way to the Black Chimera, but was exactly what she needed. Knowing the types that hung around Knockturn Alley Donna surmised that the man intended to rape her when they got to the alley. She smiled again to herself; boy was he going to be surprised.

The man was beside himself with pleasure, unable to believe his luck in finding such a young and naïve flower among the weeds in Knockturn alley, so needless to say he was very surprised when this delicate young women suddenly pushed him against the alley wall and pulled her wand on him.

“WHOA, put that away little miss you just might hurt someone with that.”

Donna dropped all pretenses and gave him look that turned his blood to ice.

"That is exactly what I intend to do. Now good sir,”
 she drawled, putting extra sarcasm on good, “you will tell me where the Black Chimera is or I’m afraid you’re going to lose something very precious.”

Donna pushed her wand into his chest and began dragging her wand down his chest until it hovered in front of his crotch. All color drained from the man’s face as her realized that he had made one very large mistake.

“Y-y-you wouldn’t”

Without so much as looking away from the fear struck eyes of her victim, Donna lifted her wand and pointed it down the alley.

“Dracanhelitus”

A ball of fire burst from the tip of her wand and raced towards some crates stacked up at the end of the alley. When they collided with the spell there was a small explosion and they became engulfed in flame. Donna smiled at the man and stepped back releasing him form the wall. The pathetic sop slid to the ground, eyes wide as galleons and stared at Donna who, with the fires of her spell behind her, looked as if she had stepped from the bowels of hell to be his personal tormenter.

“Now, I will ask only once, where...is….the…Black….Chimera”

Donna accented each of her words with a step towards the man until she was towering over him. The man made an audible gulp and pointed out of the alley. Donna turned her head, following the finger and saw that he was pointing at the sign for the bar merely two streets over. Donna smiled once again at the man and silently stepped over him walking towards the bar.

Donna strode into the bar as if she owned the place, noticing that no one appeared to be home. She silently walked around the empty barroom admiring the variety of mugs hanging from the ceiling and the various tables that littered the area. Donna casually ran her finger across a table at random and was pleasantly surprised at how well the establishment was maintained, especially for Knockturn Alley. She then turned her attention to the variety of alcohols housed behind the bar and nodded silently to herself, This is someplace I could get used to.  Donna turned and yelled into the back of the Pub.

“Hello, anyone home? I’m here about the Bartending position.”

It was that quiet part of the day - just late enough that most of the current residents had left for the day and just early enough that the drinkers were still off elsewhere.  It was the perfect opportunity to catch up on a few things on the business end - which, surprisingly enough, seemed to continue to grow.  Cinaed had never considered himself a business man - he'd started the Black Chimaera more as a social venue than a business one but, especially this past year, business had taken off.  Expansion was a definite possibility. 

He folded the stack of orders and moved over to the fireplace.  With three flashes of green, one of the orders flew off to Aberdeen, Scotland, one to a local supplier in London and the last to Belfast, Northern Ireland.  The new brews on tap had been selling quickly and he was placing a double order for kegs this time. 

He just started to settle back in his chair when a voice called from the front of the pub.  Leaning forward, he let the front two legs of his chair fall to the floor before pushing himself to his feet.  "Yeah, yeah, coming!" he called as he trotted down the stairs to the first floor.  He pushed through the swinging doors into the bar and nodded at the young woman. 

"Name's Cinaed," he offered, extending a casual hand.  Seamus, the resident mastiff, lumbered to his feet from his place by the fire and padded, carefully, over towards the pair of them.  The burns and wounds from the runespoor explosion were just about healed but the poor sightless dog was still adjusting to life without eyes.  He was doing remarkably well, all things considered but still - all the pub's usuals were getting used to Cinaed's constant insistence of seeing that chairs got put back where they were.  "You're here to apply?  Well, can I offer you something to drink while we talk?"  He waved a hand in the bar's direction, offering the woman full rein to fix herself a drink. 

Upon seeing the proprietor of the Black Chimera Donna plastered her most seductive smile across her face. She gently curtsied to the man before rising and taking his hand and shaking it. “My name is Belladona Corvida, but you may call me Donna if you so desire.” Donna turned her gaze towards the dog and inwardly cringed at the burns on the animal and its milky white eyes. She leaned towards the dog and smiled again, “Now this is one…..” she paused for a moment, grasping for words to describe the scarred mastiff, “regal animal.”

Donna silently nodded at the  Cináed’s inquiry then walked behind the bar to examine the various alcohols behind the bar. Most of them were what you would expect to find in a pub, there was the ever popular Firewhisky, the Butterbeer made for those saps that couldn’t hold their liquor, and then the various brews and lagers. After examining the years and brands she finally drew a bottle of old Firewhisky, a bottle of Snakebites, and Irish Hard Cider. After setting out the alcohol Donna went about brewing a pot of coffee. When that was done she grabbed one of the mugs and began to make her concoction.

As she went abut mixing the ingredients, quietly mumbling under her breath the various steps. “Let’s see one cup of coffee, then two parts Firewhisky, one part Snakebites, and one part Irish Hard Cider.” Donna then coved the mug with its lid and began to shake it all together while silently counting in her head to ten.  Eight Runespoor…Nine Runespoor…Ten Runespoor. When the mixing was finished she lifted the lid and a cloud of blood red steam gushed out of it. She peeked into the container to make sure that the liquid was the proper brown-reddish color that it should be. Satisfied that it was made perfectly, Donna grabbed two smaller glasses from beneath the counter and poured the drink in them. She smiled at  Cináed and proffered him one of the glasses, “This is one of my personal drinks, designed to give you that midday pick me up that all witches and wizards need. I call it Dragon's Kick”

She was an interesting, exotic looking young woman and Cinaed gave her dreads a small, approving nod.  Belladona Corvida.  He rolled the name around in his head, trying to see if either the given or family name rang any bells.  Neither did - which really meant she didn't belong to any of the more prominent pureblood families, wasn't pureblood and wasn't a previous regular at the pub.  All were, purely, scattered bits of information - he had no intentions of letting what little bits of info he could deduce dictate his perspective of anyone. 

Within reason, of course.

His gaze followed the woman as she bent over to greet Seamus.  He barked a laugh, shaking his head.  Seamus?  Regal?  The dog was many things but that wasn't one of them.  "Him?  Seamus is one of the laziest louses I've met.  He was just shy of useless when he could see.  He's pretty much here to keep the rugs from running off." 

There were, of course, a variety of reasons why life might lead a young woman to seek a job as far down the alley as his pub lay.  In many cases, there just weren't that many options.  That had been true for both Nicola and Izadora and, to some extent, Theodora.  Nicola and Izadora were ex-Azzies, like himself.  Outside of Knockturn, no one would hire them.  It was that simple.  Theodora - well, she was self-employed but her own fugitive status kept her nice and cozy down here.  Some sought the allure of the darkened alley and the, often, less than polite men that lingered down there.  Some were drawn to the Dark Arts, others were sympathizers to their views, Like Persephone Grosvenor. 

What, then, brought this woman here?  She didn't appear to be an ex-Azzie, at least not a recent release.  She was too well-kept, well-fed and lacked that distinct hollowness that ex-Azzies sported.  Besides, ex-Azzie witches were enough of a minority that any passing through a Bridge House were bound to spark rumors.  And the rumor mill had been quiet on that front.

He took the offered drink and gave it a slight taste and an approving nod.  "Not bad.  We're always on the lookout for some tamer fare for those of our clients that prefer such things.  I encourage experimentation but I keep an eye out on my clientele - I don't tolerate spiking drinks for your own personal gain."  Not unless they expected an auror in their midst - in which case, Cinaed would be handling it. 

"What brings you down this way for a job?  Cauldron not hiring?"

Donna chuckled at comment about Seamus being one of the laziest louses he had ever met, from his general appearance she wasn’t inclined to disagree. However, it wasn’t the dog she was interested in but the man. Donna had heard many rumors flying around about this man, most of which, after meeting him in person, she was inclined to believe. She was startled out of her examination of the man when he began talking about drinks and the clientele, very important topic if one wanted to keep a job as a Bartender. Donna dipped her head gracefully, in acknowledgement, “Of course, I only serve my “special” drinks for those truly deserving customers.”

This last question caught Donna off guard, the last thing she expected was to be asked why she was looking for a job here. Then, after taking a moment to think about who and where this was, it kinda made sense. The last thing someone in Cinaed’s delicate position would want is to hire a Ministry informer. “Well…” she cast around for words and bought time by taking another swig of her drink, “this isn’t exactly my first choice as a profession. In the past I have dealt in…. ‘exotic’ goods,” at this point Donna smiled at him, hoping Cinaed wasn’t so stupid as to not understand, “and with the recent regulations put in place by the Ministry it has become harder to obtain the goods that sell best. It also doesn’t help,” at this point her face contorted into a scowl, warping her otherwise attractive features, “that my clientele seemed to be ‘disappearing’.” She sighed and leaned over the bar; propping her head up on one arm and swirling the drink in her glass, “So, I had to look for another job instead,” for an instant Donna’s thoughts flew to the large pile of gold in Gringots that belonged to her, “cause those debt collectors began to come calling.” Donna decided to tactfully keep her business funds and her skills in the Dark Arts a secret from him, at least for now. She had found that when one faces a term in Azkaban they’re willing to say just about anything to get their sentence reduced, and the last thing Donna needed was to be ratted out to the ministry because some filth wanted to dodge a prolonged sentence.

Donna slammed back the last of her drink and set the cup down on the counter. Then she turned, so that her back was to Cinaed, and cased the room again. The barroom may have been big, but the pub looked a lot bigger on the outside. Even after taking into account some rooms for tenets and an office for the Big Man, that still left quite a lot of room that had to be filled with something. Donna turned back to him and smiled her most enchanting smile, not really believing he would fall under her spell. “So, I’ve heard a lot of rumors about this place and yourself.” Her eyes took on a dark glint, “I’m curious as to how much of it is truth and how much is fiction.”

In the absence of food, it took all of the past five minutes for the sightless dog to grow bored with the proceedings and amble back to his rug in front of the fire.  With a long, loud, disgruntled sigh, the dog seemed to melt onto the rug and was snoring, again, within another five minutes.  With a slight chuckle, Cinaed turned his attention back to the woman, sliding out a bar stool to perch on. 

"Well, I would prefer it if you didn't decide, single-handedly, who deserves your special cocktails.  At least if you intend on serving them in my pub.  Things aren't always as they seem and some of our best regulars are the most unpleasant."  Old, surely Mannie was an excellent case in point.  The man had the social skills of a rabid skunk.  To some, his unpleasantness was severe enough to allow him to come across as endearing - much as, by the sheer magnitude of its ugliness, some toothless, hairless dogs could only be described as cute.  And, there were many still calling Chris a bloody,  Ministry traitor.  It'd be a real bummer if Donna took those stories at face value and poisoned the poor man.  That would render all the hard work in getting the man in the Auror office as a mole utterly pointless.

So, she peddled in goods - some of which were illegal.  Cinaed nodded at the news, taking a sip of his drink.  "Make sense." He said.  "It's not a bad market here - a good chunk of our regulars are likely to have an interest.  We do seem to be drawing a more ... diverse crowd, lately.  Just be forewarned.  I wouldn't assume every customer that walks through that door is supportive of less-than-legal endeavors.  And, you partake in any of those endeavors at your own risk.  I prefer to be oblivious to it so I can honestly tell the Ministry I knew nothing of it should you get caught."  He'd done his stint in Azkaban.  He had no intentions, what so ever, of returning.

A smirk found its way onto Cinaed's features.  Rumors could be good or bad, depending on what they entailed.  He'd made a point of not remaining anonymous in Knockturn - there was, likely, any number of rumors that might be circulating.  He, therefore, knew better than to go and confess to unknown charges.  "I'm sure you have," he offered vaguely, the smirk still simmering on his face.  "Depends on what you've heard, I suppose.  Some might be true though I'm sure there is a fair bit of fabrication involved."

Donna eyes widened for a moment as Cinead had misunderstood what it was she had meant. "Of course, of course, forgive but it appears I wasn't clear. What I was trying to say was that my cocktails would only be served up to those select individuals whom you say could benefit from them." Donna stood and stretched, the robes she wore making her hot and uncomfortable. Donna inclined her head in acceptance of Cinead rules regarding her trade and the drinks she served, "I will take that advice in mind before I go off showin my wares, also I'll make sure you know nothing about it." Donna leaned back across the bar, "Well then my good sir, I have one final question for you. Do I have a job here?"

She seemed to understand the ground rules well enough and accepted them readily enough.  However, he couldn't shake the feeling that this woman was a bit of a live wire; a free spirit that was just worth ... keeping a close eye on.  That spirit and rebellion served one well when they worked in a place like this and, as long as she didn't use it against him, she'd be fine.  He wouldn't be the only one watching her, though.  Mannie, through his persistent mumblings, would be quick to say something; there were quite a few loyal customers that could be counted upon as well. 

"It's yours if you want it," Cinaed offered.  "Wage is 5 galleons a shift - 4 a shift if you'll be letting a room, plus tips. Food, drink's on the house.  You'll get to know the regulars pretty quickly and many of them carry tabs.  We open our doors readily to ex-Azzies; if a fresh ex-Azzie walks in here - and you'll learn to recognize them - they get whatever they need."