Liadan wasn't sure why she had done. The idea had been tossed around- Christian had seemed to approve, and even though Liadan had never gotten along with or particularly liked Mannie, she had wanted to do something nice for him. He was one of their own who had died a wrongful death, something didn't sit right about the whole situation, and Lidan just felt compelled to do something nice. And- since Mannie had decided it was his place to haunt the Black Chimaera as a ghost- she could share with him what she had done.

It had taken a lot of favors, pulling some strings, and putting her money somewhere it didn't belong- but somehow, Liadan had managed to convince the editors of Veela Vixen to make an issue specially dedicated to Manfred, featuring his favorite "models".

Liadan had just received the advanced copy via owl (this issue was due out in April) and wanted to take it to Mannie before he received his own. (She had no doubt his subscription was still up to date, dead or not.) Liadan gathered her things, put on one of her more casual outfits, and apparated to Diagon Alley. From there she walked to Knockturn, and entered the Black Chimaera.

The magazine was inside of a brown paper bag (so that she would not have to look at or touch it), and she approached a table where Mannie's ghost currently sat- as much as a ghost could sit, she supposed. "Good afternoon, Manfred," she greeted in as jovial a tone as a woman like Liadan O Morain was capable of. "I have a surprise for you!" she told him.

Two and a half months had elapsed since Manfred Ashford had 'woken up' to find himself dead.  It had been a rather startling realization.  All he could remember was a flash of light.  Then nothing.  Then 'awakening' to find himself staring down at his tattered frame in some strange, unfamiliar hallway, leaning up against some door.  How he'd gotten there or where he'd even been - he hadn't had a clue.  He'd wandered ... or floated ... aimlessly for several weeks until he'd finally found his way back to the shuttered and abandoned Black Chimaera.  He'd simply drifted through the Ministry's barricades and flopped on ... or, rather, just above ... his bed.  From about late-January on, his annoyed mutterings could be heard from the second floor of the abandoned building. 

In the few weeks since the Black Chimaera's reopening, Mannie had become as much a permanent fixture of the pug after death as he'd been before.  In fact, other than his new transparent hue and inability to consume alcoholic beverages, everything was about the same as it had been before that day.  The later chance, really, had been the most crushing revelation for the newly-born spirit.  Patrons of the Black Chimaera were slowly learning to ignore, or cope with, the constant forlorn looks Manfred Ashford gave their various shots and glasses of ale.  Wherever a fresh drink had been placed on a table, Mannie's slightly vacant expression followed and remained until the drink had been completed or another, better looking drink had been served elsewhere. 

A particularly steamy shot of Unicorn's Breath had captivated Mannie's attention.   It wasn't until the woman next to him spoke up that he'd become aware of her presence.  He turned his balding head in Liadán's direction, raising an eyebrow in the bag's direction. 

Intrigued, he reached for the bag, only to have his hand pass uninhibited through the bag and Liadán's hand.  "Feckin' eh," he muttered, gesturing at the bag.  He folded his arms over his chest as he glared up at Liadan.  Death, and the subsequent transition to a non-corporal lifestyle, hadn't done anything to improve Mannie's sense of optimism.  "I can't open the damn thing."  He leaned back against the back of the chair he was hovering just above. 

Liadán cast a furtive glance around the pub before pulling the magazine out of the bag, and resting it in front of Mannie's ghost. "It's April's issue," she told him, before opening it up to the page that had his picture- claiming the issue was dedicated to him. She hoped that he wasn't offended by her deciding to do it. It had seemed a brilliant idea at the time.

"I don't know very much about veela vixens," she commented, "or exactly what all you like- so I went off of information from others. I thought... maybe you would appreciate the thought or something," Liadán shrugged. She knew that it sounded weird, coming from her. Miss Ó Móráin was known for a lot of things- but she was certainly not known for gestures of kindness to people- especially if she had nothing to gain from them. Liadán had nothing to gain from getting a lewd magazine dedicated to a man's ghost.

Liadán flipped it to what was the equivalent of a table of contents. "What do you think?" she asked, somewhat hopefully. Liadán really hoped he liked it. She wasn't sure why- probably because she had already gone to all the trouble to get this to happen. It wasn't exactly easy to get this done for him.

Mannie was familiar enough with Chris' flame - or whatever they considered themselves.  Mannie never really worried himself with the labels of romantic affairs.  She wasn't representative of the pub's normal tenant but that never seemed deter her from traipsing into the place.  While it would be a stretch to say they were 'friends' of any sort, Mannie knew the woman well enough to know the magazine she pulled from the paper bag was not her usual reading material of choice.  Actually, to see her carrying it was somewhat amusing.

"It's April's issue."

"And, it's March."  What was she getting at?  "Sure not last April's.  I remember that one.  The center fold was nice."  She flipped the magazine open and Mannie floated a little closer to peer down at the page.  "That's me," he stated, needlessly.  He suspected Liadan knew as much.  He stared at the solid face in the picture.  It, obviously had been from before his death. 

He looked up from the page and watched Liadan a moment before laughing brightly.  The image that explanation brought to mind was something else!  "You," Manfred managed around a laugh.  "You actually asked around 'bout my Vixen preferences.  Take pictures of it?  Didn't ask Cinny, did ye?" he barked, again, perhaps a little too eagerly.  What he would have given to see this woman asking those questions. 

"The whole issue?"  He hovered a little closer to Liadan to get a better view of the list of 'articles.'  "Your boyfriend seen it, yet?" he asked with a chortle. 

"Yes, that's you," she reassured him. The only picture that had been readily available. Liadan wasn't sure, though, she wanted to know how he remembered the center fold from an issue that was a year ago. Some questions were better left unasked. She already had an image of Manfred surrounded by his pornography. A library of it, and him in a ratty old chair just... reveling in his smut. Or something very similar.

She blushed when he laughed about her asking others about his vixen preferences. "Well I had to ask questions!" Liadan stated. How else would she find out? And Liadan had asked Cinaed. It had been one of the most uncomfortable conversations she had in her entire life.

"Yes- the whole issue. Just for you." Liadan turned to the first page of pictures. She couldn't stand looking at such filth- but Manfred wasn't exactly capable of turning the pages himself, now was he? "It took a lot of work to get this put together. I just hope everyone was helpful in picking out the girls for you."

And then he asked if her boyfriend had seen it. Liadan glared at him. "Christian is not my boyfriend," she protested. "And I haven't shown it to him. Christian doesn't need this kind of... magazine." She was going to say "filth", but calling his magazine filth while trying to play nice was not a very nice move. "But he does know that I was doing this for you," she added. "He thought that it was a good idea and helped some."

She turned the page again, displaying another vixen. "Satisfied so far?" she asked.

For several silent moments, Manfred Ashfort stared at the pages of the magazine.  He'd never been a particularly intelligent man - what intellectual prowess he might have possessed in his youth had been left as pale and atrophied as his physical body by his two and a half decades in Azkaban.  It just took the short, stocky man a few extra moments to process complex concepts. 

And, few concepts were harder to wrap ones brain around than visualizing Liadan o Morain holding a conversation with Cinaed Tawse about his preferences in Veela Vixen models.  When it finally sunk in, Manfred laughed a deep, grizzled laugh, shaking his head as Liadan flipped the pages for him.  It was, quite possibly, the first time he'd laughed since he'd died.  And, probably for several months before.  Given the selections, her conversations had been remarkably thorough. 

"Ye gotta be effing kidding me," he said again.  Less because he didn't believe her and more because of the sheer incredulity of it.  "Shame ye couldn't get one o' me posing," he offered after giving his own picture a second look.  "I look so out of place." 

He chortled, again, when Liadan insisted Christian wasn't her boyfriend.  "Well, if ye insist on him not bein' yer boyfriend than he probably does need this kind of magazine," Mannie offered with a half grumble that might have resembled a laugh.  "Poor bastard's pathetic as a monk.  Swears he won't bag nobody else.  Sorry ol' cad.  But, whatever ye say." 

Dismissively, he shook his head before leaning a translucent elbow against the bar.  "Not bad.  Not bad.  I approve.  I'm sure it'll keep me well occupied for the next hundred years."  Hopefully, the pub would stay open that long.  Otherwise, he'd have to look elsewhere for a page turner.

Liadan looked at him, half in disgust, when he said something about a picture of himself posing. There were a lot of things in the world that Liadan would never want to see- that had to be near the top of that list. Thankfully the image didn't fully form in her mind. "I think you look quite alright," she assured him- careful not to try and reach out to pat the arm that wasn't really there.

"Yes, well, if Christian wants this kind of a magazine he can purchase it for himself," Liadan told him. And hope that she never found it. She could understand a man like Manfred needing this kind of material- but Christian was... well... different, and classy. Manfred wasn't very classy. "And he is not pathetic. Christian has multiple endearing and respectable traits. He's a good man."

But he finally conceded that he approved, and she smiled. "Hundred years? Well, I'm sure it won't be entertaining for quite that long- but I'm glad you appreciate it. You might have to find someone else to help you turn the pages, though." Liadan certainly wasn't going to do anything like that ever again. Liadan had no urge to see so many scantily clad (or entirely unclad) women.

"Perhaps Cinaed can find you a nice young lady to turn the pages. Or some ghost activated type of thing," she shrugged. She wasn't sure. But a pretty girl who would live for the next hundred years to turn the pages wouldn't be simple to find. Far from simple, actually.