Weaving through the holiday bustle, Dennis kept his coat wrapped around him and his hands deep in his pockets.  Corby and the boys were off having a few rounds of holiday drinks.  An activity that proved to have far too much temptation in it for Dennis.  He was certain, if he saw a shot glass of firewhiskey balanced in Corby's grubby hands, the firewhiskey would find a way to leap out of the glass and into Dennis' mouth.  Just like magic.

So, instead, he was shopping.  Holiday shopping.  Legitimate, honest-to-goodness, the whole nine-yards and a football field with goalie in place holiday shopping.  Because, by some stroke of genius luck, there was some greater significant meaning to this year's holiday.  He'd be spending it was a glorious and wonderful woman, doing the family visiting rounds.  In a year's time, they'd be doing the same ritual with a screaming, crying, laughing and terrifying child-like creature in tow.  His mother was beside herself with excitement about the imminent (or what felt imminent) plunge into grandmother-hood.  His father, in that classic Creevey way, seemed to match his mother's excitement. 

And, they could use a little family get together.  Things had been tense around the shop the last week, what with everyone seeming to have their own opinion about the apparent world-ending monster at Tilly's shop that apparently took the form or a fun, mild-mannered muggle woman.  Who would have thought armageddon would arrive wearing a band shirt and jeans?  Dennis couldn't be more impressed with Tilly and, with luck, if Corby would stop goofing off long enough to notice, he might be impressed with the muggle.  Tilly seemed to love the idea and Dennis had to agree.  The girl...what was her name?  Something weird - a boy's name with an added vowel to make it not - Matty or Patricka ... Patricia?  No, that wasn't it.  Anyhow, whatever her name, she clearly had the gumption to stick out this whole situation which, perhaps, meant she might have the gumption to put up with Corby. 

Dennis paused in front of a shop window and peered in at the selection.  Yes, it was true, Dennis Creevey was shopping for Christmas pastries.  Pastries!  And, he wasn't  even looking for ones baked in crude and offensive shapes!  And, that plum tart did look good.  Good enough that Dennis barely noticed the slushy stray snowball before it landed at the backside of his head.  Chunks of slushy snow imbedded itself between spikes of carefully gelled hair and started trailing down his scalp.  Turning away from the tart, his eyes scanned the pathway for any obvious culprit.

From the brink of death, to revitalized and renewed, Lukas Quinn was as always the man who just wouldn't stay dead. Rescued from the jaws or rather the claws of a Werewolf hidden in the house he was trying to do recon on, Lukas was able to bounce back for the most part. Apart from that little bout with amnesia, Lukas was no worse than before the incident. Granted he wasn't a werewolf because of the attack, even if it was during the full moon, he was lucky enough not to be bitten only scratched here and there. So other than a desire for red meat and a little more hair, here and there, he was fit as a fiddle.

A fiddle that was bored of being in the house, tired of listening to the droning on and on of the house elf who constantly complained on the state of affairs with the often unkempt office. "Yes, I know I know," he muttered. It wasn't kept tidy like his father had left it. He didn't keep meticulous stacks of papers that separated the lives he had and the women he kept. In fact, Lukas mostly had papers strewn about where they felt like falling. The office was no place he would invite those who might judge with prying eyes. His office was a sanctuary from other worldly responsibility, he sat there smoking cigars and reading the paper.  In the evenings his mates would come in and sit around in the leather chairs drinking a pint or two as they listened to a Quidditch Match on the Wizard Wireless or discussed the newest intern at the Ministry.

Lukas truly lead a charmed life. His life involved neither of his children, though he knew only of the disappointment Jasper who all but ignored his existence. Edward, was never revealed to him, and to this day he thought the child was not his but his former flames child with another. So he spent his inheritence on himself, and his leisurely activities. Lukas did enjoy going out from time to time, he doted on his cousin Tilly and nephew Ferris. Tilly, though often seen as an outcast by members of the Quinn family, was the apple of his eye. Lukas would give his right arm for that girl if it meant she wouldn't have to feel an ounce of pain. Now this man she was with, Dennis, he was a chap of a whole other color. He was a good balance to Tilly, Lukas was thankful the two hit it off like they did, though he couldn't give them any advice that might guide them. After as many failed relationships Lukas Quinn kept in his files, one would be wise to avoid anything he would impart on them in the way of sage wisdom.

So this old fiddle was wandering in the streets looking for something to occupy him until it was appropriate to drink hard liquor. All the gifts he planned to give where wrapped and tucked away in the Estate, so really wandering for the sake of wandering was his main goal. That was of course until he spied a fellow fiddler, well more like a famous musician he knew and his cousin loved. So what was a better way to get the young man's attention then to wing him with an icy ball of fury straight from the ground. Grinning from ear to ear, a mischievous smile that shown loud and clear to onlookers what a rascal he was, Lukas balled up another slush ball and lofted it in the direction of a now keen eyed Dennis. "Oi, Creevey you seem to be oggling them sweets a bit more than a grown man should don't you think?" Sauntering over, Lukas managed to wipe much of the bits of now melting now off his black gloves and tucked them in the pockets of his robes. 

It didn't take long for Creevey to find the culprit of the slushy attack.  He was readily recognizable by the mischievous smirk and the second suggesting ball of snow cradled between his fingers. Dennis shook his head, sending droplets of icy water and half-melted ice pellets flying haphazardly from his short, spiked hair. 

"Hey!"  Apparently, the spray from his locks had enough reach to sprinkle the young girl who'd been peering in the window next to him.  She looked up, wiping the droplets from her face only to then recognize the source of shower.  Her eyes widened and she grinned.  "Merlin's beard, you're...mu'um!"  The girl scurried off, chatting animatedly - the story quickly morphing into something much more exciting than a chance head shake by the time she was out of sight. 

"Now, now.  There's no need to get unreasonable."  Dennis eyed the snowball, waggling a finger in a think-twice-before-doing-something-stupid manner.  "There's only so much friendly fire a man can take before retal-"  The attempted peace offer was short lived.  Before it was even fully formed, the second snowball caught the guitarist on the chin with bits of ice trickling down his collar.  "If those sweets didn't want to be oggled, they'd be wearing bigger paper cups."  Or something.  That comeback had sounded infinitely more smooth is his head.  Brushing the cold from his chin and leaning over, shaking the ice bits from his glove, Dennis started towards Lukas. 

"Oh now," Dennis said, grinning mischievously as the other man shoved his hand in his pocket with the obvious impression that he thought this exchange was done.  "You think you're getting of that easily?  I've got reputation to uphold."  How getting ice chunks down the man's collar would help Dennis' reputation as an irresponsible anti-purist rock musician, he wasn't sure but who really cared?  "What kind of father would I be if I just took a snowball from just any old relative?"

To say that Lukas saw a lot of himself in the boy would be a out an out lie. Lukas looked onto Dennis like some bizarre breed of male he never met prior to this. Who in their right mind would accidentally put a bun in some one's oven and stick around if they didn't have to? Sure sure, you can own up to your responsibilities as a father and raise the child you create, or you can go the route that everyone claimed Lukas traveled. It was his job to pay for the son he despised and he figured once the little leech turned old enough he could cut him off the way he sliced Lukas out of his life.

In the earlier years, Lukas was always working. The life and times of a young up and coming hitwizard is not for the squeamish or faint of heart. If one was not completely dedicated, Lukas wholeheartedly believed you had no business working for the ministry or in that highly regarded position. Lukas gave up blood, sweat, tears, and most of his adult years to the wizarding world as a whole. Protecting them had been his main goal, secondly was his son and then his girlfriend who left him a couple of years before his son Jasper went off to school.

That was when the bottom fell out. When he came home to an empty estate, Lukas was devastated and his heart hardened because of the whole thing. He found it difficult to get into a lasting relationship and was instead watching others, like his cousin and this bloke before him drift happily into ever-after. Maybe he was just the non-committal type. At least it made sense in his head.

Dennis was a nice enough bloke, even if he committed the cardinal sin of settling down. Lukas figured it was acceptable due to the nature of the settling and who he did it for. Tilly was a prize despite her obvious squibishness. Lukas would defend her to the death on any day, and he was quite fine with who she was currently seeing.

"Ah, whatever you say there mate," Lukas brushed off the comment about cups and sweets. "You would be a wise future father who didn't want to be made a fool of in the middle of the street I reckon. You best becareful there Creevey I am not one to go down without making someone else look more foolish in the process," a determined smirk crossed over his face as he started to hum a little smug tune. He wasn't against looking silly if it proved a point or for the sheer fun of it.

"Whatever I say?"  Dennis repeated back, skeptically.  As far as he was concerned, he knew exactly what he was saying about pastries.  Not that it was all that important.  But, it did allow for some amusing banter. 

However, the friendly challenge that was brewing between them was far more interesting than sweets.  Dennis smirked, considering his options.  Lukas, of course, had quite a few inches on Dennis and Dennis had never, exactly, been the physical type.  He'd always preferred mucking around with his mates to playing Quidditch or anything else.  There was some truth to Lukas' warning; Dennis may very well end up making a fool out of himself. 

Of course, he could also always call for back up.  If Lukas were facing Dennis and Corby, he wouldn't stand a chance.  Which would only matter if Corby was here. 

It was either backdown or follow through on his challenge.  There really wasn't much of a choice.  Dennis scooped up a handful of snow and lobbed it in the other man's direction before reaching down for another handful of ammunition. 

Lukas was still a very well made man, despite his injuries and his issues. A kid at heart, he never quite knew when to back down from a challenge. Fit enough due to his training, Lukas was known as a rough and tumble sort in his craft. In fact, the bed that was reserved for him at St. Mungo's was often filled with his bruised and battered body. The torso of his had been wrapped repeatedly in gauze and tape, he drank more Skele-Gro than he cared to think about.

Yet still, Lukas, so many more years than just twenty, didn't seem to learn his lesson. Why not continue to take on those who were younger an obviously more vivacious than yourself.

"That's right mate whatever you..." his words however were cut off by the young buck's snowball which was flying at his direction. Attempting to slide out of his view, he found himself pegged in the shoulder by the wet powdery ball. "Bloody hell," he sputtered as he dropped to the ground to ball up his own deadly white orb of slush.

Packing the sides he looked at Dennis who was working at a furious pace himself to make more ammunition, "Not fair, I figured friendly fire was out of the question," he grinned and tossed another at the younger bloke before attempting to make another as quickly as he could.