Lucia hated these sorts of occasions.  She didn’t really socialize at work all that much if she could avoid it, spending far more time pretending to be everything else to get stories, upon her return, someone had suggested that they go out to celebrate her return from the field and her newest article, which apparently was approved of and actually praised.  Well, she did know what she was supposed to be doing and it was comforting to know after such a break from the writing she was still doing it right. 

But, because of that, she was forced to be social with the girls from the office and, above all things, they decided it was time to go out to a nice dinner.  She couldn’t argue with the dinner part, and some of her colleagues were not… completely despicable.  Some of them were just like her, trying to make a living and do something they were good at.  There were a few – particularly some of the older ones – that were harder to get on with, but it was Lucia and some of the girls who didn’t have families to cook for on a Thursday evening, so off they went, after the day was over to get ready and then meet at 7:30 sharp. 

So, Luci took that seriously.  She tried a familiar outfit on – though with brand new tights.  She really liked them, she had to admit, and for someone who did very little to standout, she thought they were appropriate  for the type of place she was to understand Calaveras was.  It sounded classy, like somewhere they were going to spend a lot of money, and thankfully, because it was being called a “work outing” WW was covering the tab.  Their galleons were better than hers. 

It didn’t matter though, as soon as she ready, placing a dab of perfume under each ear and at the base of her throat, she put her earrings on and headed toward the fireplace.  She wasn’t going to apparate and risk her appearance, the floo would suffice. 

Stepping through the green flames, the trip was short, though slightly uncomfortable (one gave up such things for the sake of ease) and Lucia looked around.  The group was gathered near the lush looking bar and she put on the brave (almost excited) smile, ready to order a glass of red wine and enjoy a dinner in the packed restaurant.  She could hear the music playing already and that brought her mood up considerably.  She liked the idea of a place that had live, pleasant music and a unique atmosphere. 

Stopping short of the group of women, Lucia leaned over to the bar and smiled a bit to get the dapper looking tender’s attention.  “Cabernet, please,” she asked in a soft voice, trying not to bump into the people next to her.  She just wanted the person’s attention, and it did not seem to be being given to her.  Sighing, she waved her hand a bit, her freshly French Tipped nails blurring in front of her,  though it seemed to be of no use.  So much for that start to the night!  And, in the process, she hit her arm against the person next to her, blushing as she realized, “So sorry! Pardon,” she excused herself, “Frightfully sorry.  Are you alright?"

Azize was nearly giddy, as he towered over the bar at Calaveras, his mind incapable of settling on what he would dine and drink that night. He was busy prospecting over the final adjustments of his Valentine's Day shower of spoils for the women at the Ministry, and one Mister Head of Beast Divisions. He must have been longing for the Yetis of Tibet, so the African wizard assumed his critter comrade needed a bit of Valentine's Day affection.

He smirked again as he tapped his hand on a hard-folder filled with his V-day todo's and then tried and focus himself on dinner and drinks. Hmm, maybe he should just focus on the latter--what sounded good?

"Cabaret!"

Of course, great choice! Then there was dash of a well-manicured before his face and then a bustle at his side and he looked down at a blushing woman, clearly not garnering the attention she deserved. Shame, "Sir," he bellowed, immediately spiking the attention of the tender, pausing all actions to regard him with a half-frightened half serious expression, "A bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon please, two menus," He gestured towards one of the tables on the far-side of the room, "usual spot, if you will." He didn't consider that the woman didn't want to sit with him, or wanted to sit somewhere else, or was with a group of friends in the crowd of people, but if that were her desires he'd make sure to fix the arrangements on her whimsy, order more of the staff around, and then leave a large tip later.

 He smiled at the well shaped woman beside him, "Do you mind sharing a table?" he strode through a lingering tone.

Then the smile fell into a quizzical line, and a gesture of stilled accusation, "I saw you the other day," he finally exclaimed proudly, "The Ministry yes? Miss..." He had recognized the face, and the woman, but could not recall if he had been given her name or not.

Truth be told, Lucia’s expectations of this moment were simply to be forgiven for her transgression of even slightly mussing his perfect suit and being sent on her way to rejoin the group of girls she had come in with.  It did not seem, however, that Azize Mulogo, resident gorgeous African man of the ministry where she had done her extended stay for the very article they were out celebrating, well - Lucia could already feel her heart pitter-pattering in her chest.  She had only functioned as a temporary secretary in International Magical Cooperation - he could hardly remember who she was, considering her main functions had been setting up appointments and delivering paperwork.

They had talked maybe once, all she knew was that he held the door whenever he saw her coming and always smiled, which was gentlemanly - far more gentlemanly than most at the ministry.  But, he wasn’t even acknowledging her apology right now!  In fact, he was just going on and ordering whatever he was doing.  She wasn’t completely surprised, she was rather unassuming for the most part - probably hadn’t even noticed.

She was about to squeeze her way around (through a throng of people also trying to get to the bar) when she was stopped in her tracks by him finally looking down at her and asking her if she minded sharing a table.  Now, Lucia was not the type to let her jaw drop in public, but she did feel momentarily speechless and as though the offending, mortifying gesture might occur.

There was a moment where she had to mentally slap herself and gulp - chance of a lifetime? Yes.  She had to take it. The girls would understand. They’d see her eventually and realize they could go out to dinner at any point.  So, this called for one of those moments where she felt like she was being completely cool, but really to the rest of the world she looked like a complete spaz.  Just tap into your calm, reservedness, she reminded herself and cleared her throat - finally fully steady on her heels. 

“I suppose that wouldn’t be a problem,” she smiled a little, not wanting to look too eager - something she warned her readers against all of time - though honestly, she rarely took her own advice, designating that part of life for Adorabella rather than Lucia. 

And then the more miraculous happened - he remembered her!  Well, he remembered seeing her, which was a remarkable step up from most people and she could not help but blush - thanking the heavens her skin wasn’t quite as light and pale as other Brits and the lighting was subdued in this particular restauarant - harder to show the rosy cheeks.  “Dasmarinas, yes…” she offered her hand up, “Lucia Dasmarinas,” her lips tugged upward just a tad, amiable, she reminded herself.  “I actually just put in my two week’s notice,” designed to keep her cover at least, “but yes, the Ministry.  I’m Mr. Whisby’s Aide,” she hoped he recognized the name of the Scottish dipolomat. 

The silence was mildly unsettling, simply due to the reasoning that Azize disliked rejection or defeat, and if he were ever faced with it would meet it with graceful stubbornness. So he raised his eyebrows in wait, taming his grin into a sweet smile, and thinking of his next rebuke to her silly attempts to avoid him.

Then she accepted! The tall man's lips peeled into a gratuitous smile. Ah, now to let his heart settle with the warm company of the buxom lady, beautiful face and body filled to the curves.

• “Dasmarinas, yes…” she offered her hand up, “Lucia Dasmarinas,” her lips tugged upward just a tad, amiable, she reminded herself.

He gently cradled her hand into his own, patting it with his other free one, and tilted his hefty form in a short childish bow, "A pleasure," his smile brimmed white as he patted his chest, "Azize Mulogo, I hope you remember," He added shamelessly, letting his ego peek in. He did not want to come on too strong, and scare off the company he had just won, although he did consider a light kiss on her hand, he wanted to give her some lax, give her some control, and try and draw out more of her personality.

• “I actually just put in my two week’s notice,” designed to keep her cover at least, “but yes, the Ministry.  I’m Mr. Whisby’s Aide,”

Azize lightly sucked back on his teeth, "A shame!" He adjusted his folders and papers under his arm, a small hindrance, as he took guiding the handful of a woman to his table, patting her hand as a signal to move, "But ah yes, Mr. Whisby," he remembered him vaguely, simply in passing talk, but let his voice drip with a coat of familiarity, "Nice man. Thick accent. Could spin a fine tale though," the conversation was very difficult for the African wizard to keep up without his comprehension tripping somewhere through the man's rambling Scottish, but conversational cues and tonality were his forte, he didn't actually need to remember details, although they were helpful.

Once they reached the table he slid her chair out and guided her to sit, as he took his papers in work into his free hand, "But why leave?" He met her eyes with a quizzical curiosity, "Entertained by the thought of travels perhaps?" He really didn't understand what reasoning could be behind jumping out of the Ministry for something else, but he could prod with a few guesses, as the menus were laid down and their glasses were poured.