How on earth had this slipped past him? Johann was intensely irritated with himself as he made his way down the main street of Hogsmeade. How had Ignan managed not to mention that cousin Vasily had been sent over to Hogsmeade by his parents, to survive on a pittance under his Great Uncle's nose? How had Johann not heard about the whole plan? It was beyond belief, and it furiously irritated him to be in the dark - a habitually nosy and observant person usually. Clearly he was losing his touch, which frightened him.

However, this was all good fortune, for it meant now that Ignan had stipulated he had outstayed his time at Hogwarts (unannounced arrival, wandering around the castle alone getting his cousin into hot water, asking enough questions to talk the hind legs off a donkey - all reasons) he could just go the short distance back into the village, and indeed back into the same cheerful inn that he had met Ignan in on the Sunday. The old Professor had managed to impart that Vasily had found gainful employment at the Three Broomsticks, and worked there on Tuesdays.

Johann's stomach rumbled ominously as he entered the warmth, especially as he could smell, and now see the sort of food on offer. He wondered if Vasily might be able to get him something good on the cheap, staff privileges for family or something of the ilk. He wasn't exactly flash with money since leaving home at short notice. It had been a long, mentally challenging day trying to convince the Ministry to employ him, especially with that trouble in the lift...

His eyes darted about the main room, taking in the wizards playing dominoes in one corner, the haze of pipe smoke, the stag's head, the large fireplace with lit fire, two hag looking women in one corner going through a purse that looked suspiciously not to belong to either of them, a large bellied wizard with a ruddy face by the window, holding court with several male friends while a woman who looked to be his wife sat beside him sullen, clearly not enjoying tagging along. He'd not spotted the well built figure of his cousin as of yet, and nobody's nose was bloody either.

Approaching the bar, he noted a well stocked assortment of liquors hung behind, and the line of taps. Distancing himself a little from a dwarfish wizard who smelt like he'd rolled in dragon dung, he mentally recalled how many galleons and knuts there were in his pouch, before waiting politely for service, his stomach protesting loudly that it should be silenced with food, and not alcohol. Although his head felt the need to come a little off duty and think a little less critically, he didn't fancy his chances staying upright for long on an empty stomach - especially if Vasily began to pour him drinks.

Putting a hand to his stomach, he gave is an unconscious rub, assuring it satisfaction would not be far away.

Meetings in Hogsmeade were such a chore. Dolly loathed facing the day before noon without a stiff drink in her hand. Indeed if she saw early morning hours it was most often because she was still up from the night before. On this Tuesday however she’d been forced to meet with her publisher in the tiny wizarding hamlet. Most of the day had consisted of meetings and publicity strategy, setting up signings and other appearances. She was bored to tears - but understood that the business side of things had to be dealt with if she ever wanted to see the end of her contract with Troll House - and there was the benefit of stopping in to see Juliette being this close to Hogwarts.


Winters in Scotland had never much agreed with Dolly though and she found it endlessly depressing that the weather was more dreary than even London this time of year. Pushing her way into the Pub she was greeted warmly by regulars who had not seen her since before Halloween. It was easier for her to get work done here, there were fewer people keeping their eyes peeled for her - and absolutely no reporters to stalk her every movement. There were air kisses and hugs to go around as she wove her way through the fair sized crowd. There was, generally, a welcoming air about the Pub, no one too fussed with her presence there.

It gave her hope that she might just get a moments peace to have a drink before she had to brave and cold and floo home. Finally finding herself at the bar, her shoulder brushed against a lofty unfamiliar form as she tried to squeeze in. Glancing up she gave him an apologetic smile and bow of her head before she began to search her person for a lighter. Her last cigarette had been hours ago. Of  course as she patted her person looking it became obvious she’d left it in the carriage outside, “Bloody hell,” she shook her head and rolled her eyes,  rechecking the low snug neckline of her corset - hoping for matches or something. Lighting a cigarette with your wand was so fifth year. Trying to catch the bartenders attention she waved a pale hand, “Oy, little help Love?”

Vasily had just begun his shift, still in the preliminary, fledgling stages of paid employment. It seemed odd, having responsibility that didn't revolve around something semi-illegal. Life in Hogsmeade had become more standard, yet the lack of excitement (brawls and beauties) was driving Vasily insane. How could anyone live here full time? And why place a wizarding academy so far away from any sort of civilisation? The landlady Ignan had found him would not be a landlady for much longer; his room was fine after a good four hour clean, but the stench of cat food permanently lingered on every surface - armchairs, curtains, kitchen counters, pillows, tabletops. Everything stunk of the stuff, and that was aggravating Vasily further.

However, work at the Three Broomsticks was a welcome change to his punishment. His boss, an aged and brassy witch, was tolerably fair. He was on lowly wages, but the work was easy: maintaining the pub during the day and serving customers on the night. By the time he finished he's always far too knackered to do anything except miss Kiev and his former life back in the Ukraine. His parents still hadn't contacted him.

Standing behind the bar, pouring a recognisable regular a Firewhiskey, his angular face looked up towards a nearby voice.
"Help?" he asked, sliding the pint across the bar to the punter, his eyes fixed on the seated (and rather attractive woman). Seeing her cigarette, he instantly moved towards her, an ignited match in hand. Little did he know he'd just stepped in the eyeline of his distant cousin, Johann. It seemed so many familiar faces were cropping up. Steadying the flame, he cupped it to keep it alive, offering it out towards her cigarette. He gave her a vague smile, quietly admiring her, still not noticing his relative.

As he waited, a shorter witch brushed up alongside him, dressed neatly, if not eye-catchingly. Other men at the bar were turning to look. Turning automatically to regard her, Johann found her looking back up at him and smiling politely, before lowering her head again to search her clothes. He could smell cigarette smoke from her, and presumed she was looking for her tobacco.

“Bloody hell,” The witch remarked, her English southern accent was clear, but not overly spoken, casual.  She shook her head - finding her fix was not on her person - unless it was her purse.  Johann couldn't help but glance again and witnessed her rooting down her top, and averted his gaze immediately. Looking up over her head, he saw the wizards either side of him staring. If they were dogs, their tongues would be out and dripping, he was sure. Sometimes, he despaired at his gender's inability to think of anything other than naked women.

“Oy, little help Love?” Johann looked round, having not been looking her way as she said it, he wasn't entirely sure that she wasn't addressing him. If she had lost her purse, he didn't quite have enough to buy her a drink, and besides it could all be for show, a plea for one of these drooling admirers to swoop in and offer. He'd seen it before - and in which case she'd chosen entirely the wrong person.

Then, he saw the ciggarette in hand, and on cue, heard a familiar accent.
"Help?" Vasily appeared with a lit match, which he cupped around the woman's cigarette end, to ensure it lit.

"Vasily!" Johann greeted with a joyous tone, knocking the witch with his arm as he gesticulated.
"So sorry." He apologised to her instantly, touching her arm ever so gently where he had bumped her.
"Fancy seeing you here." He greeted his cousin with a grin - which only made him look a bit manic. Lies, of course, he had tracked him down with a full motive, but frankly he wasn't sure where he and Vasily had left off last they'd spoken.

Dolly was aware that men looked at her - she had become so accustomed to it that the somewhat lusty gaze of The Three Broomsticks’ clientele didn’t faze her in the least. She tuned it out for the most part, though kept her eyes alert for anyone offering a possible light. It came in the form of a lankly young man with sharp features. He was the sort of man-child she would have toted after her at parties like a fresh handbag - well he might have been a little young for that scenario, but his smile seemed about that eager.

In both being a writer and a vixen Dolly had spent many years reading the messages behind the male expression - especially when they tended to linger on certain parts of her more than others. After placing the jeweled cigarette holder between her lips and inhaling a long puff she gave him a coy smile, leaned over the bar and air kissed either of his cheeks, “I see Rosemerta has found herself another dashing stock boy,” her voice was playful as she settled back on the barstool.

“I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a glass of Red Currant could I? I’ve been stuck with absolute bores the last six hours and I fear effervescent personality is the worse for it,” she gave him a wink, then wobbled forward a bit as the stranger she had bumped against returned the favor, “Vasily!” Dolly peered up at him, head cocked to one side as he laid a hand on her arm, "So sorry." Glancing between the two men [she did use the term loosely to describe the one called Vasily, a smile twitched on her lips, “You’re fine, Love. Not a mark on me - though I’m sure you could do damage if you tried.”

She sounded bemused as she turned her attention back to the young one, eyes expectant, “Fancy that, eavesdropping on reunions is my second favorite pastime,” crossing her legs, she rested an elbow against the bar and her head against her hand, “What are you drinking, Firewhiskey?” she paused a moment for him to answer before looking back at the bartender, “Set him up with a shot Love, while I try to guess just how you know one another,” again there was the patented Dolly St. James wink and smile.

Vasily returned the air kiss, raising an impressed eyebrow at the woman's European inclinations.
"I see Rosemerta has found herself another dashing stock boy," she replied in a silken voice of maturity. Vasily had a penchant for older women; one of his many close brushes with expulsion involved a female professor ten years his senior. He was reprimanded and sent home for three weeks whilst the Headmaster made a decision. She was fired and never returned to teaching.
"And Rosemerta never informed me that we had such attractive customers," he answered, his deep voice tinged with that Slavic foreign accent.

"A Red Currant, coming right up," he said, his eyes still lingering on hers for a split second. Turning and readying her drink, Vasily was far more acquainted with the spirit selection on offer at the Three Broomsticks after a few shifts. Sure, things were still rusty, but he knew the basics and his pint-pouring skills got better and better everyday. Raising a wide glass tumbler beneath the flowing scarlet liquid, he slid it across the bar leaning forward a little. A grin was painted on his eastern face as he returned the wink.
"Five knuts, if you've got it."

His brief moment of flirtation was interrupted however, and Vasily raised his head, that usual frown and narrowed eyes returning. It was an expression he wore whenever he was taken by surprise. When defences were down, that's when someone could attack, and when in charge of Kiev, one had to be on guard at all times. It seemed Hogsmeade had clouded his judgement. Gazing at the man who called him, Vasily's frown instantly dissolved, a smile appearing on his face.
"Johann," he laughed, gripping his cousin's hand boyishly. "It's been quite some time, my friend."

"Set him up with a shot love, while I try to guess just how you know one another," the woman charmingly interjected, and Vasily gave her another smirk.
"Your wish is my command." Pulling out two shot glasses, he filled them up as he continued to talk. "He's my cousin, madam. Or second cousin once removed, if we're going to be precise."

“You’re fine, Love. Not a mark on me - though I’m sure you could do damage if you tried.” Oh if only she knew he was probably the least likely to try - he'd started quite a few disagreements in pubs, but not with his fists, more his mind and his quick mouth.

"Johann," Vasily laughed, gripping Johann's hand firmly. Oh he'd not lost his strong physique, which only made Johann feel more weedy. "It's been quite some time, my friend."
"Too long." Johann echoed, smiling. The air was now filled with fresh smoke from the woman's cigarette, and the sweet smell of her perfume, which masked over the smell of beer-stained wood, and thankfully also the man who smelt of dragon dung further down the bar.

“Fancy that, eavesdropping on reunions is my second favourite pastime. What are you drinking, Firewhiskey?” Johann's stomach groaned, but in light of the situation he ignored it.
"Sounds wonderful." He replied softly, to the witch, "Thank you."
“Set him up with a shot Love, while I try to guess just how you know one another,” She told Vasily, and winked at him. Clearly she admired Vasily's physique as much as the next woman.
"Your wish is my command." His younger cousin replied, busying himself with the drinks.

Johann turned a little towards her, interested in how she would work out the family ties between the two on first impressions.
"He's my cousin, madam. Or second cousin once removed, if we're going to be precise."
"Oh now, you ruined the puzzle cousin!" Johann cried in dismay. "But he is right. The accents gave it away, rather than family looks perhaps?" He asked the witch, and then extended his hand to her.
"Johann Storm, and this is Vasily Volkov. Pleasure to have your company." He introduced politely, hoping she would enlighten him on her identity, though he was beginning to wonder, the way people were looking at her...

“I am Rosie’s dirty little secret, her guilty pleasure de jour,” Dolly laughed a little taking another long pull from her cigarette. It was true she’d been hanging around Three Brooms since her Hogwarts days. She used to charm drinks out of some of the same old codgers that were hunkered over the bar now. She didn’t want to put a number on the years - but in the back of her mind she knew it’d been nearly ten. Merlin that made her feel old - especially when there was a strapping young blood looking at her from under heavily lidded eyes. Oh the things she could teach him - if she had such an inclination. She didn’t generally chase younger men - like diamond she felt that was best left to women further into their declining years.

Exhaling a lazy smoke ring she shifted her eyes to… Johann, that was his name. He was older that her by a fair shot she was sure, he had to be in his thirties - which was generally the age she liked them. You had so much less to teach a thirty-something… unless of course they were misfortuneate enough to be absolutely abysmal. It didn’t happen often, most of the men in her life were the dark, brooding, exceedingly experienced kind, but once in awhile a dud would slip through her radar. Usually those nights involved too much wine and feeling fat. She waved off his thanks as it pulled her from her thoughts, “Think nothing of it. I’m told drinking without company is in bad form - so you’re saving me from myself”.

Looking back to Vasily she arched an eyebrow, “Cousins hmm? I don’t think I would have guessed that. Starcrossed lovers perhaps, but then I am known for creating scintillating details out of thin air,” Dolly often took for granted that people just knew her. It wasn’t ego so much as a general fact, her face had been plastered all over the Daily Prophet, people talked about her love life endlessly, and one of the biggest scandals her books had generated had nothing to do with content but rather Dolly’s brilliant marketing strategy to include an enchanted picture of herself on the back flap. The idea itself was brilliant… the Morality Corps seemed to have issue with the fact she was half naked lounging on a cloud.

Arching an eyebrow at his extended hand she smiled before slipping her fingers into his, “Dolly St. James. It’s a pleasure Mister Storm,” she waited a moment to see if the name triggered recognition in either of the men. She was not sure, exactly, how well known her books were in Eastern Europe. She’d done a few tours but nothing like the publicity push in the UK. They gobbled her up here - but even with men she was more known for her body and the insinuation that all of the dirty things she’d written about she’d done - hence the lingering leering looks from men seated around the trio.

“Dolly St. James. It’s a pleasure Mister Storm,”

They shook, and Johann paused, both judging by the way she shook his hand, and her expression, it was almost as if she was waiting for him to react in some way.

"Well, I'm glad I am for someone." He replied with a smile and a nod, before raising the glass provided by Vasily. "To saving each other from bad form, and cousins reunited." He proposed a toast to Dolly, and then to Vasily, who unfortunately was probably not allowed to raise a glass while on duty.

The whiskey hit the back of his throat the familiar tang, a raging fire down his esophagus, that was both surprising and pleasing. It wouldn't be good on an empty stomach, but it wrapped around nerve endings like a duvet, cushioning and numbing after a few. Still, it wouldn't do to get blind drunk too quickly on an evening, one wouldn't hurt.

"What scintillating details do you pluck from midair then, Ms St. James?" Johann asked curiously, not to let that comment slide by unnoticed. "Rumors and scandal? I'm sure Vasily and I would make for unlikely starcrossed lovers I'm afraid." He placed his glass down, not quite finished, and tugged at the corner of his sleeve. His eyes wandered a moment to the two men behind Dolly who were like excited school children budding to drop a childish comment they both thought was hilarious, but would be unlikely to impress the one they sought.

It would just be his luck if she were famous for some trivial, celebrity reason, or even sporting. Though by her build and appearance, he'd only bank on it being the love of a Quidditch player perhaps. Current social affairs really weren't his strong point, whereas world news, legalities, history were all far more his game.
"One whom thinks of wild possibilities such as that should write a book, than inflict their fancies on others out of fiction."

Dolly watched his face for any sign at all he knew he she was - blue eyes lingering on him a bemused smile twitching on her lips as he raised his glass. She followed suit and pondered his question, “I suppose you could say I create scandal most places I go,” her voice was tinted with laughter as she clinked her glass with his, “you really have no idea who I am?“ she was about to elaborate when an eager looking blonde stepped between the two. He’d been eyeing her from across the room since she came in but had ducted out [Dolly kept score in her head even while trying to ignore the attention, of just how many men couldn’t keep their eyes off her].

Now the man, he must have been close to forty - but fit, was back and she recognized the glossy photo in his hands. Obviously it was going to be one of those nights as he placed a hand on the small of her back, “I’m a huge fan Miss. St. James and my daughter would kill me if she knew I saw you and didn’t get your autograph. She loves your books,”. Dolly eyed him, lips pursed to one side. He was lying, through his pearly white teeth. He probably didn’t even have a daughter - but if he did he was using her as an excuse to chat her up. Most girls favored the poster of her looking like a dancing girl with feathers.

Taking another long inhale of smoke she tried not to smirk, “Really? Your daughter keeps pictures of topless women around? My you must be the most forgiving Catholic I’ve ever met,” she guessed Catholic based on the scapular peaking out of his robe. Tucking a lock of her hair behind one ear she took the picture and the quill he provided, “Shall I just sign it? Not fuss with the rightful owner’s name?” the man nodded and she handed it back with her languid scrawl across one corner. He quickly walked away and didn’t bother trying to chat her up further.

Clearing her throat she gave Johann a small smile, trying not to laugh, “Well you’ve officially seen more of me than you even knew you wanted to,” taking a sip from her glass she tried to gauge his reaction. There were some people that had been quite put off by the publicity stunt - but there were just as many who loved it. She was comfortable with her body - it was one mission she gladly took on, talking about the way women should be comfortable in their own skin no matter their size. Some people said it was exploitive but it wasn’t as though someone had held a wand to her head. She enjoyed it…and the attention that came along with it, unflattering as that might have sounded. “Despite appearances I actually am known for my books - not my half naked photos…well mostly”.

“I suppose you could say I create scandal most places I go, you really have no idea who I am?“

Johann went to respond, but they were interrupted by a stranger stepping in, clasping a photograph in his hand, which as he turned it over, Johann realised was of Dolly, in clouds.
“I’m a huge fan Miss. St. James and my daughter would kill me if she knew I saw you and didn’t get your autograph. She loves your books,”. Dolly took it all in her stride, it was so clear that the stranger wanted the signature for himself - there was no daughter. Johann dropped his eyes to the photograph a moment, and then looked away to the bar to seek out Vasily, until the transaction was complete.

Clearing her throat Dolly gave a good humored, if modest smile.
“Well you’ve officially seen more of me than you even knew you wanted to,” Johann extended his long fingers and palm up to her from his waist.
"Not at all my business." He told her quietly, merely out of politeness. In reality, he'd taken in the whole situation with his usual curiosity.
“Despite appearances I actually am known for my books - not my half naked photos…well mostly." Dolly explained.

"Ah, an author!" Johann responded, privately pleased with himself for stumbling upon the answer. "A popular one by the look of your fans." He added, completely overlooking the fact the fans were probably not only enthralled by her writing, but also her rather revealing photographs.
"Forgive me for not realising, I'm new in these parts." He suspected actually she was a writer of those fiendishly popular fiction books that never interested him. He raised his glass again to drink the rest of the whiskey, spying the food menu poking out between the bar taps, and fishing it out.
"A particularly … good… author?" He asked tentatively, glancing between her and the menu, much to the satisfaction of his stomach, which was glad at the prospect of solid food.

Vasily listened to the two conversing, keen to brood quietly behind his bar whilst admiring this 'Dolly St. James' character. It was a quiet shift - he should be able to get away with it.
"It's a shame Johann and I don't look similar," he added, shrugging sarcastically. "But unfortunately, he has not inherited the good-looking gene." Giving each of his new company a smirk, Vasily was taken aback as to how many relatives had defected to Scotland, England the Hogwarts. Despite the quaintness and friendly charm, Vasily still preferred Kiev and Eastern Europe. It was harsher, and there was a greater sense of competitive camaraderie.

Noticing the random gent asking for a signature, Vasily raised an eyebrow, standing on his tiptoes for a moment to glance at the photo. He immediately smirked, and looked down the bar, trying not to be two obvious. Could his day get any better? The hottest woman to have walked through the door all week, and she was a pin-up for every warm-blooded wizard in England?
"A rather interesting photo, Miss St. James," he laughed. "Perhaps you need an assistant for your next photoshoot?" Most would've kind his comment vulgar, but Vasily knew that with his Slavic sense of humour, he'd be able to get away with it.

A regular stumbled over to the bar, and Vasily immediately began pouring him another of his usual - Scotch Dragonblood Liquer, his attentions still transfixed by the woman seated opposite him.

Dolly quirked an eyebrow at Vasily, lips curved in a thoughtful smile as she shifted her eyes back to Johann. The man-child was obviously used to women fawning over him. She wondered if he’d ever had to work for anything in his life when it came to the fairer sex. Probably not - while his cousin seemed most disinterested in her…assets. Reaching up she tilted Johann’s chin, inspecting his features from other angles. She was too forward for her own good, but then most men didn’t exactly pull away in horror when she touched them either. Shifting her gaze back to the younger man she gave a shrug, “Substance over physicality, Darling. A pretty face might get you through the door, but if you want an invitation to stay one must be able to more than stand there matching my handbag”.

Resting her chin in her hand she considered Storm’s question carefully, “I suppose it depends on who you listen to in regards to my talent. The books themselves are utter fluff. It started as a gag gift for a friend… five or six years ago. Now I’m Wizarding Brittan’s most sought after author,” draining her glass she held it up for Vasily to refill, not in any hurry to get herself home now, “I enjoy it though, writing I mean. I adore my fans,” she glanced over her shoulder to where the blonde man was sulking in a corner, “most of them anyway,” her voice lilted with a certain level of amusement. She was used to men trying to pick her up, she just found it tacky when they lied to do it.

Vasily brought the conversation back to himself and Dolly gave a short laugh, “Why thank you for the gracious offer - but I’m afraid I’ve already filled the position of fanny powder-er,” he oozed confidence and to her detriment she found herself wanting to knock him down just a peg or two. It wasn’t anything personal, in fact it would be to his benefit to have someone shrink that head of his. This was, however, why she didn’t dabble with younger men. They had stamina sure but most had not yet realized the value of keeping their ego in check. Then again she’d been in love with Dom most of her life and his ego was enough to suffocate half the population of Hogsmeade.

“Substance over physicality, Darling. A pretty face might get you through the door, but if you want an invitation to stay one must be able to more than stand there matching my handbag”.

Johann wasn't quite sure how to take the handling of his chin quite out of the blue there. Women normally weren't so forthcoming to poke at him, and it had been quite some time since one had studied him to such a degree.

Looking uncomfortably to Vasily, he wondered why Dolly hadn't done that to his younger cousin. After all, Vasily was no doubt the object of any woman's desires. Johann's mind just didn't go elsewhere, and nothing but intellectual interest triggered on his mind from Dolly

“I suppose it depends on who you listen to in regards to my talent. The books themselves are utter fluff. It started as a gag gift for a friend… five or six years ago. Now I’m Wizarding Britan’s most sought after author,” her glass was held to Vasily to refill, “I enjoy it though, writing I mean. I adore my fans, most of them anyway,” she indicated their previous interruptor.

"No wonder you were surprised we didn't know." Johann replied, though he had to admit she'd been fairly modest with her alarm.

"A rather interesting photo, Miss St. James," Vasily remarked humorously from behind the bar. "Perhaps you need an assistant for your next photoshoot?" Johann understood this to be a type of flirtation, and lowered his eyes back to the menu, content with dropping out of the conversation for that.
“Why thank you for the gracious offer - but I’m afraid I’ve already filled the position of fanny powderer,” Dolly replied with a laugh.

Johann looked up with a frown, not familiar with the expression, and dismissed it for further research later (or he'd ask Vasily if he knew… actually about that…)
"What's good to eat here, cousin? Nothing too fancy - if you catch my drift, I'm a bit light in the pocket this week." Despite his engagement with the conversation, his stomach was persisting on this occasion - mainly because he'd not eaten anything that day at all.

"Fame has somewhat been thrust upon you then, Dolly. I must say you carry it off graciously." Johann returned comment. "If it weren't for the several pairs of eyes boring into the back of my head at this very moment, I could assume your claim to be fictitious." He gave a mischievous smile. "Still, the eyes are not an uncommon feeling, its just a pleasant change to the normal reasons for their heat."

"I'll have the pie then," He asked Vasily. "What time do you finish? No chance of you joining us this side of the bar?"

Dolly watched with amusement as Johann looked puzzled. She found him refreshing - whether it was lack of confidence or interest, it was a welcome change to have someone want to speak to her rather than follow her to bed as soon as possible. It shouldn’t be misconstrued that Dolly didn’t enjoy men fawning over her - it was just nice to have an actual conversation that did not revolve around… the usual topics. He also seemed to lack his cousin’s presumptuous air. He was not her usual type - which was very much the reason she found him interesting. Puffing on her cigarette she considered what a person like him might actually do. He was not, from the look of things, upper echelon society money.

She gave a shrug and waved off he compliment, “It’s easy to be gracious when you’re aware that your current life’s purpose is dependant on it. I’ve never understood people who resent those that make them famous,” she laughed a little, wrinkling her nose as she sipped her rum, “I can’t say I’m fond of Rita Skeeter sifting through my rubbish - but it’s the price one pays for being well loved I guess,” glancing around the Pub she pursed her lip to one side. She was so used to the looks it didn’t register much as long as no one bored into her skull too hard. She’d never considered that it could affect other people. Most of her friends and family were used to it - or caught up in looking at her as well.

Her eyes followed Vasily as he tended bar, a small smirk tugging on her lips before she turned back to the elder cousin, “So we’ve discussed what it is I do for a living and seem to be the center of attention this evening. What about you, hmm? What is it that brought the charming Mr. Storm to this particular part of bonny Scotland? Or shall I take wild guesses in the dark? Though I warn you my imagination lends itself to tawdry romances over reality,” she winked at him over the glass poised at her lips. Ten to one odds Johann Storm was not much of a lover or a fighter. He might surprise her but she had her odds on the more likely possibility being something to do with work.