The bell chiming nineteen times off from Hogwarts could be heard from the snow laden Hogsmeade, followed shortly by an Apparating snap. Elias Nanopoulos looked like a professor from Durmstrang in the heavy fur coat as the heavy flakes fell upon his head. A black glove brushed it off for the umpteenth million time as he said when he had left his flat in Diagon. He longed for the summery beaches, the smell of the ocean bathed upon his wife's skin, the taste of calamari salad... "Oy, y'feel lik' movin', mate?" came a gruff voice & Elias obliged as he realized he was standing right in front of the Three Broomsticks. "Sorry," he mumbled softly as he entered after the burly man & his companion.

Oh, the room felt so good & toasty! All he needed now was his beach house, but alas, nay. He stepped forward to head towards the bar. It seemed Rosmerta was happy to see another patron & friendly face. "'Lo, Master Nanopoulos...what'll it be, love?" she spoke warmly enough, causing Elias to forget all his troubles from the miserable weather outside. "How about some spiced mulled cider, please," Elias quipped, his voice starting to lose its Grecian accent slightly but only to pick up a slight British lift.

The drink came soon as it had been ordered. His jacket was off, the gloves too so his fingers were touching the mug to keep them warm. "Many thanks to you, Rosmerta, m'dear...salud." His lips soon touched the mug & felt the warm contents. If he only knew that his beloved unofficial nephew, Phil, was only a few seats down. . .

 “S’usual yes please. Cocoa and kisses, mate.”

Philomenes dipped his head Madame Rosemerta, hazy grey eyes lingering along the lip of her bodice. He was usually such a polite little man, clipped words and close-lipped smiles, but the constant fog Phil kept himself under dulled his propriety a bit. Not to mention running with Knockturn wenches scarcely held themselves to the same standards as those in Diagon a few streets over. So the lovely bartender’s scowl went flatly unnoticed.

As it was, Phil was blasted. Completely common once evening rolled around, gearing himself up with an arsenal of tranquilizers to a. numb the flood of caffeine and acuity potions roaring in his blood and b. prepare him for his nightly fight with sleep. So the only reason he was seated was because…well, his legs didn’t much like that whole ‘standing’ thing when he got like this. That whole ‘walking’ thing to get here in the first place made them feel like jelly. Rolling around in the dankness of Knockturn left him itchy and awkward, whenever he ventured into nicer parts of London. He’d be scampering fast as he could.

He cast a bleary look around the glowing establishment, carving away the time before his sugary treat arrived, and…that just seized all the jelly in him right up. Mr. Nanopaulos was an unwelcome sight, especially so close. Anyone close with his family, anyone who knew him from before…

…anyone who had stuck it to his yiayia roughly eighty years ago.

All of those anyones weren’t anyone Philomenes wanted to see. Ever.

“Hoi, light a fire under it will ye, Rosie my queen?” he stammered suddenly.

“Close your face, Phil.”

“…right right.”

The cider was clearly the winner as it swarmed his stomach like a well prepared baklava. Mmmm, baklava. Elias's stomach grumbled at the mere mention of that blasted sugary bar of delicious death - how he could go for some now... His eyes had been closed when Phil's name had been mention & well, the Grecian thought little of it until Rosemerta got irate with him. An eye opened to look down to find a slick man indeed which caused the other to open. Oh, for the Fates to intervene at this moment, really. It was Philomenes; there was no mistake - only Elias found himself a tad bit surprised to find this version of the lad he knew to be such a...well, for niceties? A bum.

"Say, Phil," he spoke down the bar, feeling all awkwardpants in calling him by an abbreviated form of his name, "how about you treat the lady with some love & not that brand of sarcasm your papa is so famous for?" A part screamed with Elias' brashness & sheer stupidity - but Elias knew if any part of his grandmother, whom he had NO relations with, that Phil would be civil. Then again, a brawl could easily break out (Elias hoped it wouldn't be that route) & well... The Grecian was clever with his wand but his fists weren't what they were in his fifties. He could only hope that fortune would surely smile his way. If not...Mungo's would have a new patient soon enough.