Georgianne had been thrilled when she met the owner of Calaveras, and had subsequently made a friend and had the possibility of helping to design some things for the Valentine's holiday. It was definitely exciting, far more exciting than her typical day at the Ministry of Magic welcoming people and checking wands and keeping tabs on who came in and out of the building.

The atmosphere of the place was different than most places Georgianne frequented. It was a snazzy place, and wouldn't really tolerate her typical state of dress (or undress) on the weekends. The witch saw it as an excuse to shop, and this particular evening she was wearing a new dress. Georgianne had found a table in a quiet corner away from the band, and her sketchbook was spread out in front of her, along with her pencils. She had ordered herself a fruity drink that she was sipping on casually.

Georgianne was determined to get the proper feel for the atmosphere of the establishment, and to churn out a wonderful uniform for her staff to wear for the Holiday. She was also coming up with a few decoration ideas. Her dream had always been to do either interior or fashion design, and at the moment she had the chance to try her hand at both. Georgianne refused to mess it up. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity brought on by a chance meeting. She was so thankful to have been shopping that day, and to have had her sketches on hand.

When the waiter came back, Georgianne ordered an appetizer to snack on and then bent over her book. Georgianne began to sketch out the room from her current angle, making sure not to forget any important details. "Thank you very much," she said as the plate of calamari was set down in front of her. She ignored it for now, focusing on the sketch.

Georgianne spent fifteen minutes perfecting the general outline before finally paying attention to her food. She didn't want it to get so cold it wouldn't taste well. She speared a few on her fork, and caught the attention of a man as he walked by. "Could you get me another drink?" she asked, not realizing that he was not her waiter.

Philomenes didn’t pause to consider how amazingly fortuitous it was that such a girl would even deign to talk to him, or how unlikely such a thing was. All the same! He wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip away from him. He’d had only one woman on his mind when he came slinking into Calaveras, but…nah, didn’t matter.

Besides – being mistaken for one of Miss Renfield’s help was miles above how he usually looked. Phil considered it a compliment. Whatever he’d come here for, where ever he was going – those just kind of…faded. Airy, musical laughter bubbled past his lips, a staccato piano note that went nicely with the club’s brass ensemble.

“Forward, aren’t you?” Funny, a bit, how swift he’d shift into predatory mode. Well…not predatory, just. You know. Extremely attentive. Swiveled on his heel so he was peering down at the woman (and incidentally, down her dress; but that was just a small detail), some spindly looming pale thing.

 It wasn’t his usual sort of haunt, and the previous times he’d come inside he’d looked like little better than a homeless thing. But he was trying, damn it. Miss Renfield told him too, so of course he did.

His silvery-blonde hair had been bound back away from his face, a few stray strands slipping out of the tie and flicking around his cheeks. Still unnaturally pale, still with his eyes over-large, but looking a lot less like something that crawled out of a cardboard box. He’d spent an entire fifteen minutes (an eternity for Phil’s) plucking over his wardrobe for the clothes that fit the least bad, spelled away any wrinkles even.

“Say no more, though!” Philomenes sighed. “I’ll get you your…whatever you’re drinking.” That airy didn’t fade a bit when he called for the nearest barista, voice sharp and clear like a bird cry. “Garçon, another drink here please. Something fruity and pretty.”

The petite waitress scurried over and collected Georgianne’s empty glass. She blinked up and Phil flatly and sniffed, “Garçon means ‘boy’,” before slinking off again.

Georgianne inspected the man closer, and felt her cheeks grow hot when she realized that he was not who she should be demanding drinks from. "Oh- I'm sorry!" she started, but before she could form a proper apology he was waiving down the proper person to refill her glass with the fruity, alcoholic beverage of her choice.

"Thank you," she said- addressing both the waitress and the man. Then she motioned to one of the empty chairs, gathering up her colored pencils, trying to consolidate all of the mess she had so that the man could have a place to sit. "Why don't you sit down? I'm really sorry I mistook you for a waiter. I wasn't paying attention. I was a little caught up in my work." It happened sometimes, and it could be embarassing (just as it was now).

She motioned to her plate of calamari, spearing a few then devouring them. Georgie was hungrier than she realized. "Do you like calamari?" she asked. "It's the least I can offer for someone who finds me a drink, even when it isn't his job." She smiled sweetly, and took another bite of the crispy goodness. Not everyone enjoyed eating squid, but when it was deep fried and crunchy, it was just like any other snack- at least, that was what Georgie though.

"Georgianne," she offered, extending one manicured hand to the man. "What's your name, stranger?" She seemed incapable of turning off her charms, especially when faced with another man. It wasn't that Georgianne didn't have standards, she just tried not to discriminate. Her mother had told her once never to turn down a date, regardless of the circumstances, and it was a motto that she prescribed to. Georgie had discovered that following that simple rule had helped her to cultivate a lot of good friendships and have a lot of pleasant evenings- even if the man in question wasn't her typical type.