. . .down but not out.


"That's what she said," he responded. He wasn't sure what the sentence had been, but it seemed appropriate. All he knew was . . . if there was a reference to him going down, it was appropriate.


Adon tried to look bashful -- anything other than smug -- as she mentioned that the Healers were wrapped around his finger. That was because, in his time here at Mungo's he'd learned he was pretty near irresistible. But perhaps not enough. He didn't get everything. At least not from the Healers. Not even Patty, the red headed one.

"I really want booze," he confessed to her earnestly. "And they won't bring me any." He waited, then smiled extra charmingly. "Coffee's good. But I don't like pudding." That stuff was too British. "But you know what'd be really good?" he crooned.


Yes. He was smooth. He'd gotten nearly everything he'd asked for in this place. Which reminded him that son, he'd needed to figure out what these potions were. A-game Felix Felicis. That's what.

Maggie stifled a snicker and gave him a bland look when he piped up with his tagline: that's what she said. There was no reason to encourage him. She'd been doing enough of that already! His slightly sheepish expression didn't fool her as he launched into a list of favors. Maybe she should be writing this down. The next big headline: Adon's secret grocery list. Or, Adon and the mystery of the green coffee. It all had to do with food, apparently.

"Stop that thought," Maggie replied, leaping to conclusions. "I don't cook," she crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows at him challengingly.

"I can bring the pudding. Or the not pudding, and the booze." Later. Once he was allowed to have some.

What had she gotten herself into?

"You don't need to cook," Adon reassured quickly. "And yes: the answer's arak. But I'd also take a good stout. Like the ones Jonas brings." Jonas had, through ritualistic drinking, made certain that it was as familiar a drink as any to Adon. For a moment, he sighed heavily and glanced significantly at the door. He hadn't seen Jonas since the attack, but everyone had said he was alright. Adon was feeling particularly nostalgic.

Or uncomfortably sober.

"Visiting hours tomorrow are in the morning," he informed, smile returning gradually. "Can you break away from your  reporting duties?" And maybe Jonas'd come.

With the promise of booze, with a mission, Adon was feeling increasingly optimistic. This was only curbed as he remembered her job. With a twist in his already upset stomach, he considered anything he might have said incriminating in the past 10 minutes. "You're not reporting now?" he asked, hopefully, allowing the forlorn expression to linger a bit longer than normally he would have.

Previously, he'd been using this expression to get the healers and mediwitches to bring him more sweets and, if possible, potions.

"You're not reporting now?"

"No, I'm not," she reassured him, letting out a sigh and leaning back in her seat. Obviously, she'd be looking into Azorma Hyskos the second she left the hospital. But she wouldn't pester him with questions about it now, not when he had that lost, somewhat pathetic expression on his face. And not when he was rambling on about Healer Patty and mages and kissing, either.

She'd track down Trevelyan first. Adon's earlier glance at the door likely meant his partner in crime-catching hadn't visited him yet, or not frequently enough, or perhaps Adon just really wanted that alcohol. Weren't Auror-Investigator types supposed to rally around their injured with jokes and whatever 'arak' was, which sounded so much cooler than her green coffee?

"It's not every day you get stabbed and poisoned," she continued, feeling the need to offer an excuse as to why she was here. That was definitely a big part of it. "Okay, maybe that's a monthly adventure for you. But still.

"I don't have anything going on in the morning. Except sleep. Does this mean I have to wake up early?" Maggie returned his forlorn look with an exaggerated one of her own. 

"It's not every day you get stabbed and poisoned."

Adon fretted, then scowled. Was that some kind of-- what was that? "I know," he said, surlily. "I didn't get stabbed or poisoned today."

"Okay, maybe that's a monthly adventure for you. But still."

His sour expression grew vacant as he looked down at the blank white sheets on his bed, listening to the blank white silence. He tried to think. It just didn't--she just wasn't making sense. To spare her the embarassment of pointing this out, Adon took a sharp breath before brightly saying-- "Hey! So. Want to hear a funny--" he began, halting as he realised Maggie was speaking as well.

"--cept sleep. Does this mean I have to wake up early?"

Which was just as well. Adon didn't really have a funny story on hand. It just seemed the nice thing to do. She should tell him funny stories; he was the one in the hospital bed. "Um. . ." he said, giving an awkward smile. Poor Maggie really was making no sense. "You can if you want. Is it. . ." something was nagging at him. Baked goods, St. Patty, green coffee-- "Oh! for alcohol! Yeh, I'll drink it whenever you bring it. could bring arak or a stout, but really I'd also drink about almost anything. Hey, where's my coffee?" He looked about, then reached for it. After a sip, he frowned. "It's cold. So yes. Alcohol's great! Bring some by. Hey, Magsser. You ever go out drinking? Do you good. Loosen you up."

Maggie raised her eyebrows at Adon's scowl, and decided to lay off on the comments about getting stabbed. Possibly that wasn't something he wanted to talk about. Alcohol was the theme of the day! Mags rolled her eyes at the rambling, and the complaint about his coffee getting cold. Too hot, too cold. There was just no pleasing him!

"I go out drinking plenty," she scoffed, waving her hand in the air. "When Margo makes me. Or Colette." Maggie wondered if he remembered her flatmate. Owwwwls.[1] Yeah, she bet he remembered that.

"Of course, one of the last times we went out, Margo brought along a pain in the arse. His name was Kurby, I think. He spent the whole time grumbling. Even worse than I am! And, we were trying to talk to this table of cute guys- well, Margo and I were, but they seemed much more interested in heckling the couples that came in to the pub. One of them set a pixie loose. Or a pixie disguised as a cupid? It was Valentine's Day."

Maggie paused. "I have been out since then," she added with a grin. "But Adon, that's my luck. If you want to witness the hilarity, you should come along with us sometime. Whenever you get out of here," she shrugged, glancing around.

1.	Reference to the dialogue in this post .

Adon guffawed loudly at the mention of Kurby. "Bagnold? You went drinking with BAGNOLD?" Unbelievable. The fact that he'd been a total wet blanket--less so. Probably there was a flock of girls who found his foul temper ruggedly handsome. Everyone wanted to be the girl to break the rough exterior. Like Bagnold was some geode.

Except he wasn't. He was kind of a lump of fossilized crap all the way through. But Adon loved had a strictly platonic appreciation for the man. They both hated their relative, that bastard Alberic Grimm, and then they beat up punching bags that were rendered in his image. And sometimes incenerated them. Frequently. And sometimes grenades were involved. But that wasn't the point. There was a bond there.

"Why were you out drinking on Valentine's Day?" he asked. "With Bagnold. Bad choice. But Margo's not bad, I guess? Joh likes her, at least."

"You gotta. . . first off, you gotta get really drunk. Then go dancing. That's how you meet guys, Magsser. You just . . .  it's very easy. A lotta booze, and be in reach." He paused, before saying, "I'm not drunk. Don't worry; I won't try anything. I've got a girfriend." Jacoba.

See, humor at her expense never failed. Maggie would have to make a note of this. "I know! But Margo invited him," she repeated, putting all the blame on her friend. Perhaps he was getting his Maggsers and Margos mixed up. At least he knew who Bagnold was.

When he asked why she'd been out drinking on Valentine's Day, Maggie was about to tell him that not everyone had lovey dovey plans, but then he went on to give her the kind of advice that she suspected he'd never say without the aid of potions. She hid half her face with her hand and gave him a look.

"I'm not drunk. Don't worry; I won't try anything. I've got a girfriend."

Maggie blinked. "Yeah," she said slowly, reaffirming that statement while finding it a little awkward that he'd stated it. She was somewhat relieved that he'd mentioned his girlfriend on his own, without prompting or reminding. Jacoba was her friend too, after all, and she simply found it easier to try to ignore the fact that Colette had once dubbed Adon the 'Hot Auror' every time he'd stopped by the flat on that runespoor explosion business.

"You've used up your one and only kissing request, anyway," Maggie smirked, shoving those thoughts to the background.

"So yeah, you and Jacoba are welcome on any future drinking excursions. At least she can hold her liquor. But you? All I know is that you're hilariously loopy on potions. Are you sure you want me to bring that... whatever it's called, arak?"

She grinned, just messing with him now.