There was no denying that Alexandrina was in desperate need of an afternoon out, a little sensory stimulation, and some food old sunshine--though, admittedly, this cloudy January afternoon and the heavy shadows of Knockturn Alley made the latter quite scarce.  Alexandrina had been looking forward to this quite literally for ages.  It was supposed to be a welcome distraction from all of the heavy thoughts that weighed down her mind and a chance to enjoy the outside world again.  However, she quickly realized that her expectations were probably set a bit too high, and so far she was rather disappointed  in how the afternoon was going.

Some of it she had expected.  After all, she had enough sense left to know that somebody who's wandering the streets wandless and looking like they just clawed their way out of hell probably won't be treated like a normal human being.  What she wasn't expecting was the lack of discretion (Sure, it's fun to stare and whisper, but didn't anyone give a damn about manners?) or how much it would actually affect her.  Even the deviants and social outcasts of Knockturn Alley seemed to be looking down on her.  What was supposed to be a relaxing outing turned into something that was more awkward and embarrassing.

Still, Alexandrina tried to make the most of her time in some attempt to actually enjoy herself.  Every now and then she stopped at an interesting looking storefront to glance inside the window and admire the wares.  That and wandering about aimlessly were about all she could do.  Ministry restrictions aside, Alexandrina was extremely low on funds.  The only money she had on her person were a few knuts in the bottom of her lint-filled pockets, and she didn't have much hope of getting more unless one of her sister would agree to help her out.

“Pretty, aren’t they?”

The man who’d shuffled up behind Alexandrina had been lingering against an iron lamp post, looking over the shop front for entirely different reasons. Phil’s pockets were empty too, and there were ways to go about filling them up. The dark charmed jewelry lurking behind the glass, some gleaming new and others limey with age, made his palms itch. They were twitching, jittering besides. But that had nothing to do with the thought of robbery.

…or maybe in a way it did, because he’d signed all his money away to drugs last week. Right.

She looked hazy and frayed and, in the window’s faint reflection, the pale messy cloud of her hair looked laughably like his own. Phil’s big eyes were wide as usual, the pupils blown out to black holes. The cig perched on his lips streamed gold smoke and the scent violets over hot ash. His gaze roved over the rings, necklaces, other little trinkets heavy with black magic.

Philomenes gave her a gap-toothed smile, and fished in his pocket. He procured a silver flask and flicked open a latch on its side, revealing a cigarette case. His eyes were foggy and unfocused, his voice all haze, but his intention might have seemed innocent enough.

“Look like you need a smoke, yeah?”

Alexandrina hadn't noticed the young man who stood behind her as she gazed at the pretty little trinkets in the window.  She didn't even know he was there until he spoke, and hearing a strange voice that seemed to come out of nowhere sent a chill down her spine.  Her eyes widened in surprise, and she finally saw the other reflection in the window.

She turned to face the stranger: a young man who looked nearly as worn out as she did.  Ten years ago, she wouldn't have spoken to or even paid attention to someone who looked like that, but she was well aware that she was in no place to be picky.  Any interaction was welcome.  She watched him carefully as he pulled the flask out of his pock and opened it up.

Look like you need a smoke, yeah?

Was he offering her a cigarette, actually showing some sort of kindness?  Or, at least, courtesy?  Whatever it was, it was enough to lift Alexandrina's mood a bit.  She smiled back at him.

"I've actually never smoked before, but I think I do need one," she answered.  "I could probably use a drink too, but I haven't got the money."

“Oh, you haven’t? It’s never ever too late to rip your lungs in two. Don’t worry.” The soft chime  note of his laugh shivered in the cold January air, and he huddled further down into his coat as if to escape the strange sound.

He plucked one of the skinny purple wrapped cigs from the case and perched it on his lip alongside the already smoking one. He tilted his head back and cupped a hand against the wind, before igniting the tip with his wand. Phil sucked until the cherry flared, polite enough to start it for her. Funny as it was to watch first timers fumble through the motions, this chick looked ground down.

“Killing yourself softly and slowly and all that,” Phil said, presenting the smoldering thing grandly. He looked the scraggly lady up and down, that same vacant smile plastered wide across his face.

“If that’s an invitation to buy you a drink, sorry to disappoint. The owner takes dinner at 5, and I wondering how long I’d have to wait to rob the place. Scraping by and all that.”

Phil’s pale gaze fluttered down to the flask again, as if he’d just realized it was there. He snapped the cigarette case on its side closed, and held it out.

“You can have a bit o’ this, though.” He shook the flask to her, grinning at the slosh of liquid inside. “Absinthe, and something else. Whatever else I’m not quite sure, but…it works, I’ll give it that much.”

The hazy cloud Philomenes was contentedly floating it spoke of that plain enough.

Alexandrina cautiously took the cigarette that he offered and after a moment of hesitation took a long, deep drag--perhaps too long and deep.  The smoke lightly stung her throat and lungs and made her cough up a small puff of gold smoke.  An awkward and embarrassed smile came over here face before she gave it another try, careful not to breath in too deeply this time. 

In spite of the tiny voice of reason in her head telling her it was a bad idea, she also grabbed the flask and took a long swig.  Whatever it was mixed in with the absinthe, it burned nearly as badly as the cigarette, and she almost instantly regretted it.  Drinking something with mysterious contents was certainly risky, and Alexandrina was really not in a position to be taking risks.  At any rate, there was no use worrying about it when then deed was already done.  She certainly deserved a little intoxication, anyway.

"You know, if you're planning on robbing a shop, you probably should be a little more careful with who you tell about it," she said as she handed back the flask.  Her tone was more like that of a worrying mother.  Yes, she was well aware that she didn't look at all like someone who would run off to alert the authorities, and maybe the young man would know be a bit more careful if he were around someone more respectable.  Still, Alexandrina was craving the chance to smother somebody with motherly concern, even a total stranger would do.  Especially a total stranger who gave her cigarettes and booze.

“Never really had to worry about that, myself. If one doesn’t take precautions, one can always just clean up the mess after it’s been made – why, so well that it’d be impossible to remember there’d been a mess at all. Can’t one?”

That wide, placid smile never faltered a bit. Philomenes cocked his head and stared down the woman for a few clicks longer than could be comfy. Could be on purpose, could just be that the little wires running from his brain to all his other bits were slower than usual. Or both. Most likely both.

“Some people about here are awful paranoid, get a bit quicksy with magic and all. Somebody might think to obliviate you into last year, talk like that!” With that, he slipped his pale slender wand from his coat and flicked it for emphasis. “…I, however, am not that somebody.”

His pretty bell laugh shivered out again, hot breath making pale fog to go with the gold smoke. Phil’s wide empty eyes narrowed suddenly through the shop window, cat-like, as the old proprietor set about locking up his cash register.

“Worry not, mum. I can take care of myself.” With his wild hair blank eyes ratty clothes missing fingers, flask in one hand with a rollie of something in the other, the next words were a give in. “Not well, mind you, but take care none the less.”