There were a few things Margo loved to do on a Friday night.  Without the option of laying in the middle of the Romania mountains with a bottle of the worst liquor in the world and looking at stars as dragons flew overhead, she was going to settle for the second, and that was drinking with a comrade.  This time around, she chose her comrade before she got there, which was probably an ace idea, since last time she ended up stripped down to her skivvies and completely mortified. 

Being mortified did not happen that much.  In fact, Margo was seldom ever embarrassed, but sometimes, things got pushed past the limits of normality and even though she was totally comfortable with herself, some things were just… not okay.  So, taking Kurby out as her drinking buddy seemed like a safe option.  Even if Rosheen was out there, producing and writing for Muggly the Idiot Bear, Margo was pretty sure if Kurby did anything to her, Rosheen would kill him.

It made this a very low-pressure zone and Margo wasn’t worried about what she looked like (her cousin would probably argue that it was a common state of affairs), but she didn’t do anything more than she would have for a regular Friday out.  Hanging her cloak up as she walked in, the same way she did most weekends, Margo smiled at some of the regulars she had come to know, including old Harry in the corner – a man of questionable living arrangements and even more questionable hygiene, whom Margo gave a galleon too every week. 

Waving at old Harry, she dug in her pocket and tossed him the solid gold coin, a simple action that earned her a sparsely toothed smile.  Tossing her hair, she approached the counter with the stools and took her usual.  Grinning at the aging Rosemerta (though one would probably never know how old she really was – the woman was probably a goddess at beautification charms), Margo crossed her flesh leg over the metal and leaned her elbow on the counter without much concern for manners at all.  “Make it two to start – meeting a friend,” she explained and ordered at the same time.

The woman rose her eyebrows, probably assuming it was going to go about the last time she had really come here for a full night.  Margo shook her head and laughed, “Just make the drinks!” she ordered with a playful smile, never rude with pretension, just charm.  “Seriously, just a friend.” 

With the disastrous end of the work day now hours behind him, there was plenty that Kurby was willing to push out of mind.  The events of the night before; anything involving Dolly St. James deserved to be forgotten quickly.  The full moon, which was now a week past.  All of the frustrating nonsense of the Ministry.  He'd have to put in some time this weekend, but that alone wasn't anything new.  It was, at least, on the waning segment of his workload; with the lunar apex out of the way, he had until mid-February before he had to worry about anything with teeth trying to murder him again.

The Three Broomsticks wasn't his usual haunt, but it was a nice change of scenery provided that the night was mellow.  There were none of the dark, brooding corners that made up the Hogshead, nor the bright, flashy crowds that made Signature so trendy.  And Amherst, at least, was decent company provided she wasn't trying to turn any tricks on him with her wand.  Kurby couldn't help rolling his eyes over that; someone should do her the favor of granting constant supervision whenever she tried to cast a spell.  No wonder she'd taken to dragons.  They were the only things with hides thick enough to weather her wandwork.

He scanned the crowd upon entering, waiting in the doorway for an instant while he got a sense of whether he needed to be ready for an impending attack.  Amherst was already at the bar, having two drinks delivered to her, smiling and laughing already with Rosmerta.  Just to keep in the spirit, he rolled his eyes.  For someone who worked at the Ministry, the younger woman was in far too good a mood most of the time.

Allowing a slight smile himself, he made his way over to the counter, sliding in behind the woman and taking the chair next to her.

"Got your Felix Felicis stocked up for tonight, then?" he asked, eyebrows raising as he gave her a smirk.  "You're early.  I didn't know you'd be so early to get a start on the drinkin', Amherst."

“This friend tall and dashing?” Madame Rosemerta asked, placing the drinks in front of Margo, one slightly off to the left, indicating that the spot next to her was taken, before some other patron tried to sidle up to the young woman. 

Margo, in response, rolled her eyes and flipped her hair.  “Y’know how it is, Rosie,” Margo laughed. “Almost none of them are taller than me… and barely half as dashing… pft!” her false exasperation served its purpose, to get Madame Rosemerta to laugh and shake her head at the young woman.

She was aging now, but she was still sharp as a whip, and that knowing smile – the slightly unnerving one that made you think she was actually reading your mind, crept up on her almost completely flawless skin.  “First time I’ve ever heard you have any mention of standards, Margo.  I’m proud,”

Margo’s jaw dropped and she pointed her finger across the bar, “Away with you! You insult my honor!” the slight dip of her Spanish accent coming out as she pretended to be whole heartedly vexed by the comment.  In truth, Margo didn’t care – it wasn’t a big deal, Rosie had a point, standards were not something Margo kept up with, and she had a track record to show it, but on a night where she was actually not looking for anything other than some fun with a friend, it was slightly hilarious to hear.

Dipping back fully into her seat, she was surprised upon arrival back into reality that Kurby was sliding into the seat next to her.  A grin finally overtook her features, and the younger woman laughed heartily, shaking her head at him.  “I wasn’t planning on getting lucky… but you know…” she trailed off, a devious little smirk replacing the wide grin, her dark eyes shifting from side to side, “Always keep a little potion in my pocket, just in case,” she winked and gave him a one-armed hug.

From the other side of the bar, she could feel a piercing glare.  Glancing up over his shoulder, she was right. The woman had an avada kedavra glance. 

She grinned at her, sticking out her tongue briefly, just because she could, and sat down.  Motioning to the drink, relaxed and comfortable, “Wanted to make sure it was waiting here for you,” she assured him, “figured if the whiskey wasn’t already pouring there’d be nothing to keep you from leaving.”  She lifted her glass and held It up, “Cheers?”

Whatever the problems of the day, whatever the next full moon might bring, all of the troubles seemed to vanish now that he had a drink in front of him.  Kurby relaxed slightly, ignoring whatever look Rosmerta was giving him as he settled on the stool.  The Three Broomsticks was not his favorite place to go drinking, not only because its owner seemed a bit too friendly for his liking, but for one evening, he could stomach the meddling.

At Amherst's greeting, the werewolf hunter stayed where he was on the stool, raising his eyebrows at the brief hug.  Apparently encountering her outside of the office meant that Amherst abandoned any hint of appropriate physical boundaries, not that she kept to them normally.  She was lucky that she was paying tonight; the incentive of not having to purchase his own drinks was enough to entice him into keeping his mouth shut.

"And here I was, thinkin' that was something else in your pocket, Amherst," he retorted, shooting her a smirk as he picked up the glass and raised it in a half-salute.   "Cheers.  Slainte."

Good liquor, especially firewhiskey, forgave a lot of things in life.  He gave it a considering look, and then took a long drink, savoring the warm, burning feeling as it went down.

"You should have more faith in your hexes, though, if you think I'm plannin' to leave before the first round's even done," he informed the woman, flashing her a smile as he set the drink down, keeping his hand lightly wrapped around it.  "Maybe you'll manage to petrificus totalus my heart.  You've got me for at least two drinks," he added nicely, his smile growing into the more-familiar smirk.  "As long as you've got the galleons, that is.  We might have to talk once those run out."

“A lady keeps those sorts of accessories at home, Bagnold,” Margo responded with a sly wink, lifting her glass to his cheers.  Nodding her head at him, the salute completed, she took a long drink of the burning liquid and laughed merrily. 

When she was younger she’d make those comments all of the time to scandalize anyone who would be listening.  Her grandmother, her aunts, uncles, cousins, any extended relative that was within earshot would not have been without hearing something of the sort during any family gathering.  Margo was an ace when it came to that sort of behavior and smiled easily, leaning her head against her hand, trying to avoid the harsh gaze of Rosemerta, who apparently did not approve of such vulgarity in her vicinity.  Woman was getting boring with age!

Putting down her drink for a moment, Margo laughed, throwing her head back, shaking her head so her hair could tickle her back.  “I think my wand work is superb.  Why, every time I pick up the thing something ends up on fire,” she grinned, of course thinking of the desk and chair and Kurby himself that had been up in rainbow colored flames earlier.  Poor guy would probably never hear the end of it, at least from Margo.  No one else would talk back to Kurby Bagnold, but Margo had absolutely no problems with it.  She was always living on the dangerous side. 

“Which should be enough of a reason to keep me happy,” she added, “Besides, I have this charm about me…” she raised her glass and waved it around, indicating it was something she could not put into words what exactly it was.  “By the end of the night, you’ll be like a house elf - deriving all of your pleasure out of pleasing me.”  She nodded curtly and took a long sip of her drink.

“That’s generally the way it goes, Bagnold.  I’m an irresistible master.”