Alright. Margo was staying at Bagnold’s, but that didn’t mean she had to constantly be there.  He was hard to be around sometimes, and as much as she thought his gruffness was just his way of dealing with the world and not understanding how to actually be a pleasant human being – he and Lizard were still wary around one another – she swore, sometimes it was as though they were fighting for territory.  And then, on top of that, Bagnold’s constant complaining was giving her a headache. 

Lizard was not dirty.  In fact, Lizard was probably cleaner than either of them – but that argument had not been received very well, and had ended… well, in an argument. 

So, meeting with Maggie, outside of getting out of the house was also going to be asking a favor of her friend.  The best way to do that, of course, was asking Maggie to meet her at the bar and make a grand old time of it.  There was also the added bonus of getting to go home drunk, and there was no chance Bagnold would be mad at her drunk this time.  Last time she walked around in her underwear she hadn’t planned quite so well. 

Apparently, walking around in underwear wasn’t allowed for her.  She figured the rules might change if the underwear got better.  She’d probably find out eventually. 

She was prepared for basically anything today, and shoving open the door, she followed it by a swift kick, just in case it didn’t stay open and Margo swaggered to the bar, ordering a bottle of firewhiskey and two shot glasses, putting her galleons down on the table.  Colby, the bartender, gave her a hard look, searching her for something – she couldn’t tell what.

“Girl’s night,” Margo smiled and put an extra few sickles on the counter, making sure to tip well, and grabbed the bottle and glasses to bring to a table.  Colby did not look convinced, but she made sure to sit in line with his view from the bar.  Cheeky monkey needed to see she wasn’t a total liar – even if she tended to do that from time to time… well, a lot of the time.  Her name had been Bobbie to him for three months before she told the truth.  Since then, it seemed like he just didn’t believe anything she said! 

Pouring herself a shot, she downed it by herself, leaning back in her seat.  Maggie would be there soon, she figured, and why not get started?  Maggie would cover the next round if they ran out.

It was the middle of the week, and Maggie had decided it was a good idea to hit the pubs with Margo tonight. She was sure to regret it in the morning when she woke up with a hangover, but she hadn't seen Margo in a while, and there was enough time in-between their outings to make her forget what alcohol did to her. A lovely cycle.

Besides, she wasn't looking forward to the weekend, and couldn't expect to drink much then. On Saturday, she was supposed to help run the Daily Prophet booth at the Hogwarts career fair, and Maggie was looking forward to it about as much as she looked forward to her yearly dental appointments. Rita Skeeter would be there. Enough said.

When Mags walked into the pub, she quickly spotted Margo and shook her head as she slid into the seat next to her. "You are the only person I know who can get away with wearing black leather pants in public." Compliment or insult? It was a typical Maggie greeting, anyway. Her own outfit was far less adventurous. Jeans. Nice top. Boots. The simpler, the better.

She stared at the firewhiskey in front of them for a moment, and then at the two shot glasses. Maggie glanced at Margo, "I'm going to end up with my head in a toilet by the time the night is over, I can already tell."

But she took a glass anyway and filled it, wondering if this was a regular night for Margo, or if something else was going on. "What's new with you?" Maggie asked, raising her eyebrows curiously.

Maggie Groust was the same person she always was.  Margo had a sneaking suspicion that the reason she was such a good reporter was the fact that no matter what circumstance she was in, she had the same attitude.  Unless, of course, the girl was drinking.  At that point, Maggie became someone completely different. Margo found both the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde personalities pleasant company and grinned easily as she saw her enter. 

"You are the only person I know who can get away with wearing black leather pants in public."

Margo decided to take that as a compliment and laughed as she straightened up in her seat, ready to start pouring.  Mags needed a drink, after all, and she could use another shot.  She was far beyond the point of one shot doing anything to her except burning her throat.  “I am that fantastic, yes, Maggie.  While most people can only wear them in the privacy of their shared bedrooms, I defy the laws of public decency.” 

Maggie filled her own glass though, and Margo had filled hers.  She pushed the little glass closer to Maggie – egging her on to take it.  Margo lifted her own glass and  grinned deviously.  “Only if you can’t handle your liquor, Groust,” Margo pointed out before downing the shot without a thought. 

Even if it was technically good liquor and you weren’t supposed to just down it, Margo couldn’t help it.  Automatic reaction.  Sighing with the pleasant warmth still slipping down her throat, Margo shrugged. “Just felt like getting out for a bit – and haven’t seen you in ages!  I’ve been practically dying of boredom.”   Not necessarily true, life was VERY eventful recently, but eh, Margo couldn’t say it had been exciting – more like terrifying at times and then completely infuriating – thanks to two stupid men she found herself consistently entangled with for some reason. 

“What about you? Any exciting, juicy pieces of news gossip to relate to a poor, bored friend?” she smiled, leaning on the table, batting her thick eyelashes at Maggie.

Maggie narrowed her eyes skeptically when Margo claimed she'd been dying of boredom and had just needed to get out for a bit. Margo sought out adventure, dealt with dragons and research everyday, and had absolutely no problem attracting men (it must be the leather pants). Maggie found it hard to believe that she'd let herself get bored. Hell, the RCMC had more than enough excitement lately.

"Nope! Nothing at all," Maggie smirked, having fun being a bit of a brat. "No news, no gossip. I've been living in a cave for the past few months. Completely ignoring my job. I haven't paid attention to a damn thing." Lies! She and Margo both knew it.

She hesitated for a second, and then downed the shot like Margo just had, biting back a cough. If the objective of the night was getting shite-faced, she supposed she'd make some sacrifices. You know, for her friend's sake.

"I am perfectly capable, by the way," Maggie raised her empty glass, "of holding my liquor. Don't challenge me, Amherst," she gave her a mock-grumpy look, then grinned, fully expecting a challenge now. It was already starting. Maggie couldn't help but find everything hilarious when she drank. Added to that, she was much more vocal about ranting and voicing her opinions, but that particular effect would come with more alcohol.

“No, no Mags,” Margo shook her head, waving her shoot glass to dismiss the woman’s point, “you’re starting to confuse work with your social life.  See, the part about living in the cave – that’s your personal life.  I can see the confusion though – the two things being so similar for you.”  She smirked, always enjoying a good ribbing, particularly with Maggie.  She knew the woman was not the type to freak out and cry over something like that, which made her a good female friend.  Margo couldn’t deal with people who were too sensitive; it just didn’t work for her. 

Sometimes, she felt like Bagnold almost fell into the too sensitive category, but he was just an obsessive thinker – and couldn’t let anything go.  She needed to stop thinking about him though; sometimes that’s what got really difficult.  It wasn’t like a thing or anything… no. Not at all.

Pouring herself another shot, Margo smiled and started to fill up Maggie’s, particularly after she started to challenge her.  “Well,” she smirked, “I’m already two in – sorry, had to have one without you,” she shrugged –fact of life.  “So you have to do that one on your own.  To make sure we’re even.”

“A challenge, at this point, would just be unfair.” She leaned back in her chair, relaxed, stretching her leather clad legs far out in front of her, crossing her ankles over one another and her arms across her chest.  “Go ahead, Groust.  Or I might have to find someone else to get pissed with tonight.”

"Right, because you're such an expert at keeping your personal and professional life separate," Maggie taunted back lightly. They were both shite at it, obviously. Mags got too involved in sob stories that kept her from printing a killer of a story because she'd feel bad, and Margo, well, had flings with people like Bagnold.

"Oh, see, that's funny," Maggie sat back, shaking her head at her friend. "You just knew you wouldn't be up for a challenge in the first place, so you drank before I even got here. Yeah, I see your game. Excuses, excuses," she tried not to laugh.

"But fine, if it'll make you feel better." With that, she downed the shot that Margo had poured for her, almost able to count the loss of braincells.

Mags set the glass down and peered at it for a moment. She then glanced at Margo. "Alright, here's the plan. Every time one of us says 'Daily Prophet', 'dragon', or mentions a bloke," Maggie paused. "By name, the person who said it has to take a shot. The last one able to walk without falling over by the end of the night, wins.  Sound fair?"

She was so going to win this.

“I wrote the book on it, Mags,” Margo grinned, “I’ll let you buy a copy and maybe I’ll sign it for another galleon or two.”  They were basically the worst employees ever, well – maybe not.  Margo was the worst employee ever.  She couldn’t remember the last time she actually did something worth doing; maybe Maggie had a better track record.  She doubted it though.  Under the guise of a real grump, Mags had a bleeding heart for the things she got involved with.  Emotional attachments to things and people, Margo could live without.  She wasn’t exactly the warmest person in the world.

She rolled her eyes when Maggie suggested she wouldn’t be up for the challenge.  Well, well. That woman was sincerely mistaken.  Shaking her head, Margo just waved her hand at the shot glass – not wanting to hear any of it, merely wishing to see the visible signs of Maggie’s mind slowly slipping from grasp.  Satisfied with the end result, Margo nodded.  “Just making sure we’re on equal footing.  No handicaps for lightweights here.” 

Neither of them, arguably, was a light weight, but Margo liked to tease.   Apparently, so did Maggie, and thinking she was going to get away with laying own the terms and conditions, well, Margo couldn’t help but be affronted. Putting her hand on her chest, like she was stricken, Margo’s mouth opened wide.  “Maggie – you underestimate our abilities!” 

She smirked, “No mentioning anyone by name, or you take a shot.  Oh, and every curse? A quarter shot.”  She couldn’t deem a full shot for a curse, she’d be under the table in fifteen minutes.  They both cursed so much it was probably going to be pretty ridiculous anyway.  It also leveled the playing field, considering Margo tended to lose (maybe it was more a win?) these sorts of things. 

Margo put her hand out, “Deal?”

Maggie hesitated for only a second before nodding and shaking Margo's hand. "Deal."

She grinned. They were in for it now. This night was going to be hilarious... or hilariously disastrous? Whichever. Maggie couldn't stop cussing if her life depended on it, and avoiding mentioning anyone by name would get more and more difficult the more they drank. Maggie would just have to consider this practice for descriptive nicknames.

"Oh, and I don't believe you," Mags began, deciding to go on offense before Margo could. "Bored? Don't tell me you've lost your horde of admirers. Or that all of the... fire-breathers in the world have just decided to go into hibernation. I call bollocks."

She raised her eyebrows, meaning to accomplish two things: 1) Actually find out what was going on in her friend's life, and 2) Get her to take the first shot!

The handshake was basically like accepting a pact with the devil.  Margo grinned and sat easily, not really worrying about this.  At first, it was going to be easy, but as soon as they started slipping, it was going to be a fast track into the downward spiral.  As for now, it was going to be a grand show between them and sound more like a seedy deal or gossip magazine at their table than an actual conversation. 

Raising her eyebrows at Maggie, Margo did not immediately understand what she was talking about.  “The horde… has… gotten complicated.”  That was the understatement of the year, but hey, it was what it was.  Since the MacDuff guy entered her life and started stealing her skivvies, then huddling up in Bagnold’s flat was really an interesting situation.  Oh, Margo’s life could never really be boring, but Maggie did not need to know that. 

“I’m just so da-mn,” she tripped over the word, trying to stop herself, but failed. “Ah hell!” She poured herself the quarter shot and pursed her lips.  “I’m just doing this because you need help to get going,” she said and downed it easily, putting the glass in front of her, staring at it momentarily, her lip curling with agitation.  She couldn’t believe she swore first!  Bah! Well, she could, really…

Margo was not as unpredictable as some would like to believe she was.  It was all a secret, as far as all of that went.  “Besides, the fire breathers aren’t actually my deal anymore.”  She sighed, “every since I got grilled up and half devoured, I just sit in a cubicle.  Talk about a piss poor excuse for a job,” she frowned, filling up her cheeks with air and then blowing it out, slowly. 

She put her hands behind her head and stretched her back, “I imagine the DP might have some interesting things going on though – much more than the big, fat nothing you’re lying to me about.  Maybe something about a new crime or some juicy piece of information not yet available to the larger, dumber public?”

"Entertain me!"

Maggie looked very smug when Margo was the first to cuss, letting out a laugh at the peeved look on her face. Sore loser, that Margo.

When she mentioned her 'piss-poor' excuse for a job, Mags started to look less smug. She frowned, wondering if this meant cracking jokes about Margo's job was off limits.

"It can't be that bad," Maggie scoffed. "You're still in the thick of things. Just... being badass from afar." A clumsy attempt to make her feel a bit better. Mags imagined that if she were Margo, she'd miss getting herself into ridiculously dangerous situations, too.

Speaking of that! Margo asked about the Daily Prophet, and Maggie shrugged, vaguely offering, "I've got some things in the works. Problem is, I don't know when it's going to pay off. Could be next week. Could be next month. Could be never. I swear, Margo, these people-- I have to act like a complete, obnoxious arse to get any information out of them. And when I try to be nice, it backfires. Ministry workers," Mags emphasized, throwing a smirk at her.

"What will really entertain you though, is that I'm stuck at the Daily Prophet booth on--" Maggie cut herself off. "Aw, shh--" she stopped again, clapped a hand over her mouth, and narrowed her eyes at Margo, as if she'd caused her slip-up.

Grumpily, Maggie refilled her shot glass and downed it, refusing to count the 'shh' as a swear because it was half-finished, but agreeing that she'd been caught mentioning the DP, fair and square.

“In the absence of fire breathing lizards,” Margo chuckled, “I found other ways to put myself in the thick of it.”  She wanted to tell Maggie, she really did, but she didn’t know if it was a good topic to bring up.  Beyond that, she would really like Maggie to bring it up first.  Then, at least, it could look less like a plea for “What the hell should I do” and more like “well! This interesting piece of information comes from me…” 

Whatever the case, Margo raised her eyebrows at Maggie when she declared she had to act like that.  “You really need to be better at this – considering, you need to pour yourself another shot, I count as anyone by name,” she smirked – pointing at the glass. “Go, fill it up.”  She was not going to let that go – she was a person!  It was all in good fun anyway.  Maggie would get drunk in twenty minutes and Margo would be the victor.  Sweet victory! 

Of course, Maggie violated the rules once again, and Margo sat pretty in her seat, smugly bouncing as she watched the shot get poured and drank.  “Ah, do you feel that?” she asked, lifting her chin, as though there was a breeze she was thrusting her face into, “that is the feeling of failure, for you, and success for me.  What a wonderful feeling!” she tried to look superior and serious, but could not do it.  She started laughing – so proud of herself for being funny, she couldn’t actually stop laughing. 

“Now what booth are you working at?” she said as soon as she stopped laughing, though her stomach still jumped up and down with spasms from her diaphragm.  She was trying to stop, really, but it didn’t seem like she could.  “Begging for tips courtesy of the muckrakers?”  she wrinkled her nose with amusement, so proud she hadn’t violated the rules… this time around. 

After two shots of firewhiskey (Maggie had to agree that, yeah, she'd messed up  saying Margo's name out loud!), along with the other shots she'd had before the challenge had begun, she was well buzzed.

Though her brain was processing things more sluggishly than normal, she still wondered if Margo's 'in the thick of it' comment had something to do with her 'complicated horde of admirers comment from earlier, but decided asking about it would have to wait. She laughed when Margo cackled over her victory, only because the sight of her laughing was contagious.

"Yeah, I'd say that feeling is the alcohol, or just your delusions of grandeur. Laugh it up, but don't get used to it! Victory will be mine," Maggie grinned, getting a kick out of her own humor too.

Of course, her wit had gone to her head, because when Margo oh so innocently asked which booth she was working at again, Maggie was nearly fooled!

"The Dai--" Maggie scowled. "Oh, you're evil!"

She crossed her arms and shook her head. "I'll be stuck with a certain..." she paused, trying to think of an appropriate term. "Spectacles-flashing vulture, who still acts like she's my age and expects everyone to worship her," she made a face. "Feel sorry for me."

Maggie glanced at her, considering. "Better yet, you should be there. Represent the RCMC and all. Unless you're too busy this weekend getting into non-work related trouble?" she raised her eyebrows, not really expecting her to agree to join, but curious about what she was up to.

“I’m a genius,” Margo pointed out with a grin.  “One of those twisted ones, you know like on a wireless broadcast.” She changed her voice to attempt to sound like one of those stories she sat by the wireless and listened to as a kid – for the sake of the joke she poured a shot before she even had to, knowing she would down it once she finished.  “Margo Amherst, the smartest and most talented woman in the world uses her intellect to take over the world. Supreme dictator, operator of all world functions and keeper of a sexy harem of delectable blokes!” she leaned back after taking her shot, laughing, her hair falling back over the chair. 

She kept the chair tilted on its back legs, so completely amused by everything. “I don’t feel sorry for anyone,” Margo said pointedly, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.  “You’ll get some valuable tips on life ruining from the harpy anyhow.  I mean she’s like a feckin’ expert, isn’t she?” Margo poured the quarter shot and took it.

Her head was feeling a little light, but they were drinking pretty fast… she gave herself that much, anyway.  Margo Amherst was no lightweight. She also wasn’t going to tromp down to Hoggies to see nose pickers.  She wrinkled her nose and shook her head, “H-E-Double broomsticks no!” she declared, getting around the swearing rule with an old favorite from first year at the children’s correctional institute they called school.  After first year, Margo had stopped using euphemisms – didn’t seem to matter at that point.

“I’d probably rather stab my own eyes out with a wand,” she wrinkled her nose.  “Brats don’t scare easily anymore either – I’d show them my scars and they’d be more excited than petrified.  No fun in that.”  She wasn’t sure her boss would really want her there anyway – somehow, Margo was not deemed a suitable role model, not that she could really put a finger on why.  She giggled at her own thought.   

“Besides, I’m hiding out,” she whispered.  Clearly, her mind was going somewhere it wasn’t supposed to.  “Don’t want to be too visible right now… even going out tonight, probably not the smartest idea…”   

She rolled her eyes when Margo did her 'voice on the wireless' act, though it was pretty funny, and she was smug about Margo taking another shot. Maggie nodded in agreement with her description of Skeeter.

"Life-ruining," Maggie let out a snort. "That about sums it up."

By the angle of the chair, she could see that Margo was leaning back like one of those dumb-arse teenagers who thought they were cooler than the professor and everyone else in the classroom. "Don't fall over now," she smirked. "This challenge has to actually be challenging, that's the whole point. Makes winning so much more fun!"

Despite Margo acting like a teenager sometimes, she had a healthy aversion to them, as evidenced by the look on her face when Maggie said she should be at the RCMC booth. She couldn't blame her. Mags had really just wanted to share the misery. The whispered explanation caught her attention though, and she glanced around the pub, half-expecting to find the answers written on the other patrons' faces.

"What?" Maggie exclaimed, giving her an odd look and not bothering to lower her voice at all. "Why are you hiding? The Hogwarts brats and Skeeter can't get you here-- oh, fecking hell!"

Letting out a big sigh, she refilled her shot glass, drank the firewhiskey, and then had another quarter shot.

"You... sneaky." She laughed, ignoring the little voice in her head that worried about her incoherent sentence and the fact that she found her failure so hilarious.

“Eh, talk to me in another few shots about falling over,” Margo waved her hand dismissively at the thought, though the chair wobbled and she anxiously and haphazardly grabbed for the edge of the table before she could steady herself once again.  Honestly, the thing was rickety.  She probably shouldn’t be sitting like that, but now she had to prove a point and Maggie certainly wasn’t going to win.  It was like if it was her mother – now she just had to be defiant!

She retained the smug look on her face as she started rocking the chair – it was like doing a trick on your broom while your mum was looking, just to make her anxious.  Of course, sometimes that trick went wrong, and unfortunately for Margo, this was one of those times. 

The legs of the chair went out from under her and she screeched before she hit the floor with an indecorous thud.  “Mother fecking asshole chair! You have to be shitting me, dammit!” she growled agitatedly, several more expletives fleeing her lips as she sat up.  Margo crawled off the floor and lifted the chair with her, glad that the bar was fairly empty – it was Wednesday, after all – and then swiftly kicked it before grabbing a different chair, just to spite it, and pulling that up to sit on.  “Can you believe that?” She rubbed her hip before she sat down in the chair.

Notably, she did not tilt the chair back this time.  Instead, she just took another shot and a half, slamming the little glass down on the table.  That was absolutely ridiculous.  Thankfully, she had no shame, or she would be embarrassed. 

“Not hiding from them,” Margo said in a hushed tone, scooting her chair closer to Maggie to avoid being overheard.  “Hiding from… a stalker,” Margo breathed, like it was some sort of huge secret.  “Not the old stalker – new one… much worse! “