Maggie was on a roll this month. She'd visited Lexus, dragged Kia out in an effort to get her to stop moping, and now she was at St. Mungo's with two coffees in hand. Several of her friends had faced an abundance of hardship lately and it was her turn to be there for them.

Maggie reminded herself of that as she walked down the first floor of St. Mungo's, the floor labeled 'Creature-induced injuries'. Adon Eleor was in one of these rooms because he'd been stabbed, poisoned with Runespoor venom, and involved in an explosion, all right in front of the London muggles. Just another day on the job for him! A heart attack for everyone who was close to him, however.

That was the puzzle. They weren't close. They were friendly, and chatted for a few minutes whenever they bumped into each other. But if he didn't want company, she'd just drop off the coffee, and leave. No harm, no foul. She held the coffee in front of her like the convenient excuse that it was, passing by the chirping and barking and other sounds on this floor, and resisted glancing in the windows, not wanting to think about the few patients still recovering from the werewolf rampage.

She reached his room and knocked on the door, which was slightly ajar. Maggie poked her head in, relieved when she saw that he was propped up by pillows, looking relatively... normal. All in one piece.

"Hey," she greeted him with a slight smile. Maggie was dressed especially muggle-ish today, in jeans and a light coat, which contrasted with the lime-green robed Healers dashing around.

She set down one of the cups of coffee on the table attached to the bed, studying his face and wondering if she'd just woken him up. Maggie cradled the other coffee in her hands and stepped back a bit, looking around.

"So. I hear you blew up half the block by the visitor's entrance. Congrats."

Maggie gave him another wry smile as she glanced at the lucky charm printed on her coffee cup, and the green froth underneath the lid, hesitating for a second before she took a sip.

A young woman arrived, carrying a drink. Adon shifted listlessly on his pillows, feeling the protesting burn in his arms, his shoulders – his everything – before dropping back into the pillows with a cringe. He knew her, of course, bit it was all a bit hazy just now. It’d come to him in a moment. The only thing he knew was that it wasn’t the witch – he didn’t remember her name, either, but he would in a minute -- that’d just been in with the potion. But here she was . . . with some potions. Or. . .

Adon ventured cautiously towards the cup, hissing as his muscles protested. The young nurse – the other woman – she told him he should be moving around more now, because it would. . . would help something, all this moving around. Adon wasn’t going to ask questions, really. This place was mystifying.

“What is this?” he mused in bewilderment as he held it in his hand. “It’s so . . . bright,” he continued quietly in wonderment as he looked down, eye nearly to the small hole in the coffee cup lid. “It’s hot!” he protested as the steam hit his eye.

Glancing up, Maggie was hovering over her beverage with apparent hesitation.

“What does it mean?” he asked before watching her with heavy-lidded eyes, adding, “I’m not drinking it if you aren’t.” He’d drunk enough questionable – and foul tasting – things in the last – how long had he been here?

Ah, yes. He remembered now. “Maggie.”

"Adon," she nodded, relieved that he'd finally recognized her. Maggie took another sip of her coffee, just to show him that it was, in fact, safe, and she hadn't spiked it with Veritaserum. It tasted fine, if a bit minty. Better than the stuff at St. Mungo's, she bet.

She remained standing for the moment with her coat still on, and gave him a concerned look, both amused and worried by his confusion over the cup of coffee she'd just offered him.

"It's coffee," Maggie explained, raising her eyebrows. "So yeah, it's hot. It's green because it's St. Patty's day, I guess," she shrugged, taking a seat in one of the chairs by his bed.

"At least you're breathing," she commented after a pause, almost reassuring herself. "And talking." And hissing and cringing, or at least he was earlier. "You okay?"

He was okay, right? He didn't have brain damage? Maggie hoped he was just groggy and suspicious of green, frothy drinks, and maybe even suspicious of journalists who randomly popped in to see him, instead of suffering from memory loss or something more dire.

"It's coffee," Maggie explained, raising her eyebrows. "So yeah, it's hot. It's green because it's St. Patty's day, I guess," she shrugged, taking a seat in one of the chairs by his bed.

Adon relaxed visibly. “I love coffee,” he said through a nostalgic sigh as he looked, for a moment, forlornly at the cup. “I really like coffee. . .” he looked at the cup several moments longer before remembering what he had just listened to. “Oh, yes. Patty,” he said, “I think I met her earlier. She’s the one who brings the potions, right? She is a saint. Wow. I didn’t congratulate her, though. Her own day. . .” closing his eyes, his hands began to tilt until the hot liquid began to drip down the side. He opened his eyes quickly to look down at the liquid, sneering at it. He didn’t like that feeling, but he didn’t want to move. He sighed dramatically.

"At least you're breathing," she commented after a pause, almost reassuring herself. "And talking." And hissing and cringing, or at least he was earlier. "You okay?"

“It’s just the coffee. It’s running down my hands,” he said with apparent frustration before continuing to a longer list of grievances. “And my head always hurts, and the muscles, too. And my stomach itches from the stitches –” he gave a light giggle here, adding “rhymes” – with a goofy grin.  "But when that witch comes by with the pain potions—Patty--” he gave a slight sigh. “Then I’m  reeeeeeally okay.” He looked at her hopefully. “Is some of that stuff in here? And none of that anti-whatever it is, right?” He gave another sigh. “I wish every day was Patty’s day. She deserves it.”

Adon took a sip of the coffee at last, closing his eyes tightly and giving a soft grunt of assent. “Mm. So vivid,” he muttered as he relished the flavor.  “Damn. I love coffee.”

"Careful!" Maggie jumped up and casted a drying spell on his hands. Silly Auror. Silly her. She was starting to regret giving him a hot drink when he was obviously too addled to handle it at the moment. Maggie watched him warily before sitting in the chair again and shrugging off her coat. She'd be staying for a little while, she supposed. Just to make sure he didn't burn himself.

She let him ramble on about Nurse Patty and his various injuries, eyebrows drawing together in confusion when he mentioned stitches. She couldn't help but smirk at the idea of every day being Patty's day. The Healers must adore him.

"Damn. I love coffee."

"I know you do," Maggie rolled her eyes and smiled slightly. "Are you sure you have stitches, Adon? Did you end up in a muggle hospital after you were injured?"

Why she was asking him this, instead of a Healer, she didn't know.

"How hard did you hit your head?" That was the million dollar question.

"Hit my head?" Adon repeated, as it sunk in. "I don't remember hitting my head!" His fingers -- the hand not holding the coffee -- travelled up to his forehead, feeling there experimentally. "And I don't remember going to a Muggle hospital." His eyes grew a bit frantic. "Or getting stitches. I have stitches?" Hastily putting the coffee back on the table, and moaning softly at the pain, he began to fumble his hospital robes before realising . . .

well, that wouldn't be decent.

"Do I have stitches?" he asked, insistently. "Mages don't even know how to do them!"

The panic subsided as quickly as the onset. Adon was sore and exhausted and he gave up the attempt, instead sinking feebly back into the pillows. "I didn't hit my head. That assassin Azorma Hyskos beat the holy shit out of me and I gave her hell. That's what happened."

Yeah. Yeah, he did. Adon was satisfied with this recounting and shouldered his way back deeper into the pillows. He looked at Maggie for several moments before asking, "I'm confused. Maybe we should start from the beginning: where am I?"

Oh, Merlin. She was making a right mess out of things. Her questions confused him more, and she smacked her hand to her forehead in typical face-palm fashion as he fumbled with his robe and asked about stitches. She opened her mouth to reassure him that he was alright (just confused), when he threw out a name that made her fingers itch: Azorma Hyskos.

Eygptian assassin! Her eyes lit up, but she managed to push back the urge to badger him, and filed the name in her head for later.

"Look, sorry," she muttered, holding up her hands. "You're in St. Mungo's. On the Creature-Induced Injuries floor," Maggie told him slowly. "As far as I know, you were stabbed and suffered from runespoor poisoning a few days ago. But you're okay now, you're resting up and you'll be fine." 

She paused, hoping he was following her. "Yes, you were a badass and caused some kind of earthquake mini-catastrophe. No, you probably don't have stitches. And St. Patty's Day is a day - a holiday, not a Healer, hence the green coffee and shamrock on the cup and..."

"I'm not helping at all, am I." Maggie looked both frustrated and embarrassed, flopping back in the chair and letting out a sigh.

Adon had known where he was. This was all a plan. A brilliant, brilliant plan. To what end, Adon had forgotten approximately four seconds ago, but he'd get it back. Or he'd take it for all it was worth.  Adon's expression shifted slightly; it grew more vibrant and certainly more cocky.

"Of course St. Patty's day is a daaaaay," he drew out in long, exaggerated syllables, like she had. Or he thought she had. Actually, he didn't care. "It's a day celebrating Patty. The healer. Who's a saint. My English isn't that bad, Mags. Mags...tie. Mag...ster..." He trailed off, looking at the vacant, far corner of the room.

After a moment, he blinked forcefully and yawned. "I've got investigative powers. Potions haven't gone to my head." His head -- felt slightly funny. Adon quickly looked back over at the discarded coffee on the table, exiled for having burned him. "What'd'y'put in this drink?"

Magster? Really? Maggie stifled a snicker and instead settled for giving him a look. When he glanced at the drink suspiciously and asked what she'd put in it, Maggie took a sip of her own drink before responding.

"Eye of newt and toe of frog," she told him in an ominous tone, then grinned. No, she was not above making fun of a sick man in his hospital bed.

"But seriously. Just coffee."

She gave him a slightly concerned look. He didn't look so great. Coffee wouldn't have any adverse effects, would it? She'd asked for decaf. A hot flavored drink couldn't do any harm, she'd thought. Maggie set her cup down and straightened in her seat, glancing around the room.

"Do you want me to get a Healer? Or can I do something?" Nothing too complicated, she hoped, but she hated feeling useless and didn't quite trust her conversational skills. Knowing her, she'd start rambling about St. Patty's day again or pester him about Azorma Hyskos.

"No, I don't want a Healer!" He responded, the usual fire of his indignation drawn out to a slow, grumbling drawl. "Why does everybody ask that?" Adon frowned irascibly. "I don't like Healers. Unless they come with more of those potions . . . that make me feel. . ." His hands flitted out into the air dreamily as a demonstration. "But she just came in and gave me some. . ." He thought. In the perpetually dim-lit room that always looked the same, with food that always tasted the same, ushered in by interchangeable Healers in identical green robes . . . what time was it?

"I'm fine," he mumbled, closing his eyes a moment, hoping that might help him remember what he had been trying to remember.

And then he remembered: his plan. Get all the sympathy, praise, and pity out of young female visitors. His mood only improved as he recollected Maggie's offer:
"Or can I do something?"
Brilliant, Eleor! Inebriated with his own brilliance, he grinned dopily. Adon knew opportunity when it came knocking on the door, bringing hot beverages, and telling him he was badass. Opening his eyes a crack, he tried to read her expression. Concerned. Perfect. "Hey. Magssser. . ."

He waited for her to listen. He repeated. "Hey. Hey."

Once he felt certain he had her attention, he chuckled to himself. This was too damn brilliant. "Give us'a kiss."

Maggie gave him a skeptical look as he ramble-ranted about Healers and claimed he was 'fine'. If he grimaced in pain again, she was going to go find a Healer, whether he liked it or not.

But he didn't grimace. He grinned at her. Her expression became even more concerned.

"What?" Maggie questioned in an exasperated tone, still prepared to hop up and fetch someone with healing knowledge. He'd just slurred her name and said 'hey' a few times. If that didn't indicate a head injury, she didn't know what did.

"Give us'a kiss."

Maggie blinked at him, surprised. Then not surprised, because this was Adon, and on their very first meeting he'd brought up 'assets'.

"Oh, haha," Maggie rolled her eyes at his suggestion, letting out a little laugh, before glancing at him and seeing that the dopey smile hadn't faded. He was looking at her expectantly. He was serious! Sort of.

Nothing'd happened. Adon frowned. Maybe he hadn't said anything? That had happened before. Sometimes it was just too much of a bother to make sure the tongue, cheeks, throat, and mouth all worked together to make sounds.

But he still wouldn't mind trying that sort of multitasking. "Hey." He repeated, hoping it worked this time. "Mags."

He sighed. Maybe this was all too much effort -- it was hard to remember even what he was doing here, much less why she was. "You know what you should--" he didn't bother with extraneous words. His momentum might not take him to the punchline. "Just a kiss," he repeated. "I won't even tell Patty."

There were many awkward things about this situation. One, Adon was doped up on potions. Two, he had a girlfriend, who Maggie knew and got along with well. Three, she wasn't even sure he realized who she was right now, which led back to point number one.

Maggie let out a snicker when he mentioned Patty, deciding to play along but shrug this off as a joke at the same time. That was the normal reaction, right? It seemed a better choice than just sitting there and laughing at the man.

"Fiiiiine." Another eye roll. "One kiss! On the cheek. Patty doesn't need to know."

Maggie set down her drink, got up from her chair, and sent a glance at the door before looking back at him.

"No head-swiveling sneak attacks," she warned, bending slightly to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"No head-swiveling sneak attacks," she warned, bending slightly to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Hee," Adon gave a childish croon at her concession. Obedient -- not clever enough to have thought of a sneak attack -- Adon waited it out before she pulled away. "Thanks, babe. You're too good to me," he said.

Any of the healers might have told Maggie that this was his favorite phrase. Because Adon truly had no memory of it, it was incredibly clever every time.

"So that's coffee?" he asked, looking over at the paper cup on the table. "Green coffee?"

That wasn't as awkward as she'd thought it would be. She sat down again, trying not to laugh at the 'babe' nickname, and the fact that it really didn't take much to make him happy at the moment. Unfortunately, it didn't take much to confuse him, either. Their conversation circled back to the coffee. She'd had no idea that it would spark so much commentary!

"Mmhmm. Yup," she replied, in the 'smile and nod' sort of way. What to say to someone who was ill, loopy, flirty, and slightly giggly all at once? Normally she teased her friends, complained about her life, or argued for the fun of it, which seemed out of place here.

Well, maybe not too out of place.

"I can't be the only one who's brought you a mysterious concoction. No? Just the Healers? Damn," she sighed with an exaggerated air.

"Don't worry. Give it a day or two and I'm sure you'll have the Healers wrapped around your finger." If he hadn't already. "You can ask for extra pudding with your meals. And someone can sneak in cake. Maybe they'll let you have your own personal owl so you can reassure the Witch Weekly fangirls that you're down but not out," she gave him an amused look. Yes, she'd seen the article last month.