The wizarding cafe was quaint. The little-hole-in-the-wall place exuded their own airy charm. The cream colored walls were roughly plastered. Tables of two, covered in dark violet tablecloths, dotted the seating space topped with gleaming silverware. Moderately crowded, she was sure, it would fill up soon, once the lunch hour drifted around. If first impressions were true, Petra would have dismissed dining there, but the entrees were fabulous. Always, she had left satisfied, and relaxed.

Having not seen Naila for a long time, she had made an effort to dress up for her brunch date. Her hair was gathered in a high ponytail, and donning crisp long trousers, along with a gleaming green blouse. Her heels tapped against the table stem rhythmically.

Breakfast at Pendrick House was painful, especially the conversation. At every turn, her grandmother kept tossing names of any eligible bachelors, dragged out, no doubt, from the Witch Weekly. A good thing, she had made her escape quickly with a mention of brunch date. Her grandmother had been quite pleased. Though, if she knew who she was meeting with now, Maude Pendrick would make sure she paid for that trick.

Ordering a cup of coffee, she sipped it delicately, as she waited for Naila to turn up.

For an outing to meetup with an old friend, Naila had donned a simple off-the shoulder dress that nipped her waist and hugged her thighs, and some nice tights; Without the weather of the Mediterranean there wasn't the warmth that warranted bare legs in London. But she would be in the UK for a while and preferred to make herself at home.

The wavy blond curls bounced against Naila's back and bare shoulders as she entered the cafe, surveying it, and turning the heads of the occupants, until one of her delighted smiles landed on Petra. Ignoring the rest of the population of the little shop, she strut the short trip to the table and planted herself across from the witch, "If it isn't a chaser  of my favorite offense turned defense," at least in favor of Britain, but Naila was sure that Petra employed her own offensive legal tactics when needed, or if it was in favor of her own interests, "If you have kept yourself diligent in your profession for so long, I do hope you snagged that Assassination business," her voice purred playfully, "if anything to at least learn to ogle that rather dashing colleague."

A man worth dying for, maybe if Naila wanted to settle down one day she'd have another crack at entrancing Azize Mulogo. "But really dear, how have you been?" her tone softened to a less bubbly (and probably a less Veela-Charm-drugged) roll, "But save me Saturday specifics I'm sure you were either at work glued to your wireless or traversing the Quidditch stands."

The blonde half-veela hadn't changed at all. Just a tiny bit, maybe. Naila Ferrari knew how to attract attention. In a crowded space, a four-point spell wasn't needed, just a fine pair of eyes to follow the besotted fellows that would hang around her, and as she watched the heads that had spun gawk at the latest entrant, she smiled pleased that her wait was over. Damn, she knew how to make an entrance.

With a  mock pout, she planted her hands over her breast, “You've wounded me so, Naila. Here, I thought I was your favorite chaser out of the offense.” Ah yes, that bloody business. Bit of bind that put her in, since she couldn't confirm nor deny anything. She shrugged off the playful opening, “As if I need that as an excuse to ogle people,” she paused mid-sip. “And which dashing colleague? Plenty of them litter the Ministry halls.” Though professional, she wasn't immune to their good looks.

Beneath that playful exterior, emerged the Naila she knew well, “I have all my limbs intact, and work is going exceeding well,” she remarked glibly. “Mamie[1] is busy pushing me out to date,” she grimaced slightly. At first, it was tolerable, but now it had become an annoyance. A faint blush covered her cheeks, when quidditch was dragged up. “Yes well,” she cleared her throat, “a fine game. I couldn't go though.” Not when, she had paperwork to complete. 

“How's the life of a star singer coming along? I can't wait for your new album.” Petra looked and sounded eager to hear all about her friend's work. The tracks were unbelievable, but completely Naila who never really did anything conventional.

1.	grandmother

"Shame dear, now if only you took your ability to take to a romantic chase like you did the quaffle then you could redeem yourself as my absolute favorite," Naila gave a throaty giggle and drummed her fingers into a loose limp claw, "Would keep your Mémé off your back now wouldn't it? Hmnn? With a Mr. Mulogo maybe?" She leaned back in her chair looking away to try and remain ever-so-innocent, before returning the topic back to herself.

"But of course, the life of a singer," she waved her hand off to the side as she nodded herself into a more proper posture,"Scandalous, as always. And to revel and thrive in it is my only solution," she leaned into the table with a raised eyebrow, "Someone's already accused me of being a Siren, not a proper witch at all, and want to take it court-get my wand taken away. But they dredged up a lot of nonsense about Veelas and genology, can't get past that enough to get anything done."

She sat up and moved on again, "Doesn't stop us from working, makes everyone more aware we're cooking something up. Hoping to preform it throughout the summer--and... that's all you get darling," a smirked donned her expression and then lightheartedly added on, "Some days I do wish I were Flora or Bongani[1], being able to pull of a lion's roar with such ease."

1.	Wild Beings band members. The former is a short petite woman while the latter is a bigger Afrcian man