Saturday, April 4, 2009
9pm
Open to friends of the Wiedman-Briggs

Though Dazmond Wiedman's twenty-sixth birthday had fallen on Friday, an evening spent in the close proximity of family at the Wiedman cottage, the five-foot Witch had fully planned to celebrate all the week-end long.  She'd attended her brother's Quidditch match earlier in the day and had invited several friends to join her at the Black Chimaera for drinks and Wizards' Poker that fine Saturday night.  She had even rented a small cabin in Hogsmeade for a bit of an after-party party that would extend into Sunday for a few of her closest mates.  For a woman who'd been sparse all through February-March, Dazmond Wiedman was quite unexpectedly social all a sudden. 

A birthday could do this to a Witch as self-loving as was Daz.

In the middle of the small pub, a table had been elongated to sit a small crowd.  Beers and other concoctions already littered the table and the mood of revelry was well-set. 

"Oy, who's in?" said Dazmond with a cigarette smack dab in the center of her mouth.  She was dealing herself a hand from her self-shuffling Hebblethwaite deck, for she could think of no better way to celebrate life than a clumsy game of Wizards' Poker over rounds of drinks at the recently reopened Black Chimaera.  She'd brought a bagful of brews to deal into the pot, each carefully labeled with handwritten tags.  And she was certainly set to have a good time, no matter how long she'd already spent pretending none of her problems existed these last few months.  An extended party was just her latest tactic of avoiding the trouble that still haunted her from nearly a year past.  But her company didn't need to know that.

Leaning forward, Landis rapped the table sharply with his knuckles to announce his entry into the game. He smiled at Dazmond after he'd caught her attention, a loose, lazy sort of smile that spoke of his comfort in this place, with these people, and with this long-held tradition: "I am."

It was a good night, and he didn't anticipate it changing. Landis had been pleased when Dazmond had contacted him about the party; he hadn't seen her for months. Ordinarily that was nothing unusual, but it was almost her birthday... He was used to her disappearing acts, but to receive her Owl had still been a pleasure. Dazmond wasn't much involved in the WBA - he would surely know if she was - but she'd been having problems a while back with Aurors, and given her incautious dips into the criminal side of things Landis got antsy after more than two months without word from her. He had too few friends to let any fall between the cracks.

The rest of the guests were no chore to entertain, either. Landis had friendly acquaintances among the small crowd; he felt comfortable here, comfortable enough to drink and relax and watch Dazmond bask in the attention. Beside him sat Juliette, a bringing together of the past and the present that he was not entirely comfortable with but was trying to ignore. She had wanted to come, and Dazmond had wanted to meet her - Landis was surprisingly all right with her next to him, too, even though it smacked of something a little more personal than their business-like agreement. It was perhaps incautious to bring her here to mingle with the BC folk, perhaps unwise to greet  Cináed in front of her, but Landis was trying to swallow his reservations. It was only a party - how few times they had gone out together - and there was no need for his usual paranoia.

He had a few things cluttering up his pockets, but what he dropped into the pot was a card conjured from a napkin, promising in silver writing all-night drinks to any who won it.

Juliette had been pleasantly surprised-- and more than a little curious-- when Landis invited to a second party in less than a month's stretch of time. She'd been far too interested in his life outside of Hogwarts to decline the invite, whatever words they'd shared while drafting their verbal contract of sorts. While the first invite had been to a formal sit-down for the extended Morgan-Harper family (some of whom were Juliette's students), this weekend birthday bash was epochs from the St. Patrick's day feast in Landis' mother's dining room.

Brassy, blunt, and brilliantly adjusted to ruling a table of men with a tiny iron fist, Dazmond Wiedman-Briggs was not at all what Juliette had expected of Landis' closest friend (a quiet, snarky male). And yet, she fit the role splendidly. Juliette could see where the two meshed, the appeal such a wild-maned woman held for Landis. Half proud Pureblood, half rebel. Coincidentally, Dazmond was also a potions expert, well known around London for her work. The perfumer-turned-professor had heard the name, but she had never met the woman until this evening-- and would never have guessed how close she was to Landis. In fact, either before or after the many rounds of drinks (Juliette couldn't decide which), it had appeared they meshed a little too well, but the redhead pushed that aside.

Juliette was more shocked at Landis' ease in such a place: he'd been plucked from his quiet library and thrown into a motley crew of chain-smoking, rule-breaking gamblers, and had never been more social. It was like watching to evolution of man in fast-forward. An evolution that depended on a live-hard-die-young-and-cut-down-the-competition mentality. Ah, but she could never fault him for being so ambitious. Shock aside, Juliette was having a grand time. She wondered if this meant he mightn't ask her out more often, and whether she should bring him to Paris to meet her fellow crazy-tempered Beauxbatons graduates, and the caskets in their cellars. Who knew that replacing his wine with ale would be so much easier than turning his tea into coffee?

Back to reality, Juliette raised a fiery brow at Landis' quick throw-in. She raised her own glass of spicy, frothy drink in consensus. "I can't recall the last time I played poker," she admitted, grinning. The hoards of teenage boys in her lessons lived for it, however, so Juliette kept an eye open in the corridors and peaked in on games when they didn't know she was watching. Boys should never be cleverer than they imagine they are. "So forgive me if I lose brilliantly." She took a sip and looked to Landis, studying the side of his face she'd watched many a nights in a dim candle, but in a new light. "Or thank me." It was a coin flip. She took another, deeper sip. She wasn't quite sure how many she'd had tonight, but she'd been keeping up with the company.

She waited for others to join, to keep the stakes interesting, teetering ever high.

Planting her elbows on the table, Juliette leaned forward, looking at Dazmond again. "Is this the real Landis?" She asked, speaking over the table, and the background banter that was a pub on a weekend. She eyed the woman carefully, her mouth posed somewhere between smirk and parted intrigue. She sunk back into her chair, cozied her spine against the wood, and slipped a hand across her lap and into Landis', intent on letting him know she was only prodding his ego, and that she quite liked seeing him let loose. The last time they'd had so much to drink together, she'd been sorely tempted to talk him into trying on her heels in the Hogwarts lawn-- or at least loaning her a pair of shoes.

outfit

"Daz." Laney smiled, bending a lithe form to reach chair-level and brush a quick kiss to the petite witch's cheek. She might have been Dominik's rival on the field that day, but she would never miss a Wiedman party, and sod the tabloids! "Happy birthday. Where are the strippers?"

Laney sprang back to form, but not before planting a palm-sized gift box beside the birthday girl's ale. It was perfectly square, and wrapped in a simple silver metallic paper in which one could see the warped reflection of the bright red highlights in Dazmond's hair, and the smoke snaking from her mouth. Laney summoned a chair from somewhere behind the group and squashed herself in between two guests who had arrived more punctually. She might have been sooner, but she'd had to scrub the pitch dirt from the most unmerlinly of places, change her clothes, and make sure Frank was still safe behind bars-- tonight wouldn't be the best of nights to invite him out for a drink. Laney's friends were not particularly... well, whatever Frank was. And besides all of that, Laney wasn't much bothered with clocks, unless she was racing one.

Everyone was good and tipsy, just how she liked it.

She sank into her chair with splendidly bad posture, shoulders digging into the top of the back, bum sliding toward the edge. Her knees knocked out before her, lanky and lazy as a teenage boy's. She fished for her cigarettes, pulled out two, and kept one tucked behind her ear-- something she'd unconsciously mirrored off of George, who liked to do the same with his quills. Lighting the other with her wand, she took a much-needed drag. "Where's Dom? I hope I didn't put him in the hospital..." She grinned, her single dimple etching into her cheek, betraying her earnestness. "He nearly assassinated me with a bludger, the big, whiskery tosser," she added lovingly. She craned her neck, looking around for Dom, and shaggy strands of still-growing-out hair fell across her forehead, half obscuring her eyes.

She noticed Landis, the librarian whose last known whereabouts had been... the bar stool beside her own, once upon a winter ago. She winked, and took another drag.

There was one thing that could drag Dolly from her penthouse without a damn contract involved and that was a Dazmond party. Dressed to the nines her limbs already slithery and loose as she took a long drag from a "specially" rolled cigarette. Daz wasn't the only one drinking her troubles away tonight - the musky air and familiar company set Dolly back to a time when her biggest worry was which man to drag into the back for a shag. Merlin they had been wild then, with no idea what the future would hold. It said something, Dolly, was sure, that she was at home here as she was in an insanely expensive gown diamonds glittering at her neck. She was still fluid, if wounded from her recent loss. Perhaps that is why the air seemed to literally palpitate with vim; having come so close to death they all wanted to be reckless and alive. She was humming when the jovial energy around the room as she downed her fourth shot of straight Fire Whiskey and slammed and glass on the table.

"All in Dazmataz. And to sweeten the honey pot because Lady Luck is always on my side," she paused grinning like the Cheshire Cat as she carefully removed the diamonds dangling from her delicate earlobes and tossed them onto the table. "Bare in mind those were probably a gift - a lady never bets heirlooms before they see their cards". Looking up as a none other than Laney FECKING Irving slouched down in the seat next to her Dolly nearly purred. She adored the girl, completely and utterly. She was a brilliant Quiddy player - and Dolly was no stranger to the circuit. Having dated an announcer, being best friends with Dom, famously shagging half of any given team depending on which gossip rag you read - it was safe to say she and Laney were familiar with one another if not close personal friends. Actually Dolly found the other woman quite attractive, in the sort of way grace slithered from her form even in the most graceless of acts.

With her cigarette reaching it's very short lived end (she was a renowned chain smoker when drinking and gambling). She snubbed it out delicately before she turned toward Laney with a wicked glint in her eye, "You were bloody brilliant Darling. I was on the edge of my seat the whole match. If we're not to sauced later you should take me for a ride," without hesitation she plucked the cigarette from betwixt the other woman's lips her own quickly taking it's place. For a moment she was completely still, one hand with fingers threaded through Laney's hair before she turned back toward the table and slowly exhaled the smoke that had formerly been in the other woman's lung, "Thanks for the drag Lovey". She giggled then, taking another drink from another glass nearby with who knew what in it before answering  "Oh Dom can go fall on a broom handle. Too many big ego's in a room an' he goes moody for not being the center of the universe - which is a position I have graciously relinquished to my darling Dazmond for the evening." her words were "harsh" but her tone amused, "I expect it back in one piece though - your hide be damned"!  It was going to be a fan.fecking.tastic night!

"What the hell!?" 

Cinaed's voice, ripe with good-natured indignation, carried across the room towards the group clustered around the table.  To those unfamiliar with the man, even in jest he could easily come across as intimidating.  But, those who knew them man and could look past his sheer size and reputation, the twitching of his beard and the broad grin gave him away. 

Not to mention the now-blind mastiff that lumbered to his feet and bumped his way around the tables to reach the man, his table delivering a bruising blow to every occupied seat he ambled past. 

Unlike most of the party goers, his attire was simple: unadorned, long black robes and a pair of heavy leather boots.  Fashion restrictions were, definitely, one of the distinct drawbacks of animagus transformation.  Clothing that was too complicated - or had too many components - always seemed to get mixed up or lost in translation.  Perhaps, such wasn't a problem experienced by formally trained animagi but Cinaed hadn't gotten anything but basic black robes to change properly.  As his magpie form was, as of yet, still unknown to most - even in his inner circle - flying was one of the easiest and securest ways to navigate London. 

How much Cinaed had missed this.  The warmth of the fire lit pub; the jovial voices of people relaxing and enjoying each other's company.  The boy who'd gone into Azkaban over a decade ago had been a loner; he hadn't known the difference when he'd first been forced into isolation.  But, Cinaed Tawse had not only learned to enjoy camaraderie since opening the Black Chimaera, he'd found he even needed it. His current stint of isolation was wearing on him and, as careless and foolish as this night out might be, he'd needed to seek the companionship of others. 

He certainly hadn't gotten to where he was by being reasonable. 

"What the bloody hell?"  He repeated, gesturing towards the table after taking a moment to greet Seamus.  "Game's just started and already I'm antied out in my own pub?"  He gestured towards the scattering of loot on the table.  "Do you lot take credit?  I swear it's good." 

"Happy birthday, love," Cinaed offered Dazmond before nodding a greeting to Landis.  "Ladies," he tagged, offering a grin to each in turn. 

A dark figure entered the torch lit pub silently and gracefully moving past the regular drunks that were amused by the gathering of friends in the middle. Under a large cloak yellow hinted eyes watched the happy faces and shared drinks. A pang of guilt washed over the figure before they steeled their resolve and stopped next to a gnarled looking coat rack. Slowly, fluidly the hood was taken down and the heavy dark robe removed to allow a vision of primal beauty underneath.

Standing five feet eight and clad in a beautifully Gothic looking black dress and knee high boots that bespoke of the fashion of Bellatrix Le Strange she ran her fingers through her silver and gold hair. Her yellow eyes fell on the group in the middle once more and she licked her lips trying not to appear nervous. While she had every right to be there, having been personally invited by the Birthday girl herself she still felt out of place. This was the first time Lexus Dale had shown her face in public since her capture by the WCU almost a month before.

To those that had known the bubbly secretary before her capture, many changes had obviously taken place. Her canary yellow hair had finally returned to her natural honey colour and was now generously streaked with the same silver that stood out in her werewolf form. Her dusty blue eyes now shone with a hint of yellow that became even more evident whenever the beast inside her was angered. The biggest change came within the woman's fashion sense. For the first time in four years Lexus stood tall wearing a backless dress, her golden and silver curls flowing down a back ravaged with scars. Now that she was registered there was no real reason to hide who she was anymore.

She crossed the room and leaned down over the shoulder of the birthday girl and one of the closest friends she had managed to gain in the past few years. She placed an elegant hand on the woman's shoulder, her nails having grown out and taking on an appearance not unlike claws, "Happy Birthday luv." She whispered in the woman's ear before straightening up and heading to the bar to grab a drink. She hadn't seen Dazmond in almost two months when she had called her back to her flat to let her know the ministry was keeping tabs on her. She had missed her and was more than pleased when she had received her invitation to the gathering of friends and spirits.

However guilt and anxiety still gripped the young werewolf. The month before she had stood on the brink of her own extinction, facing either deportation and execution or a life in Azkaban. The only reason she was free today was because the Aurors, one stubborn ginger in particular, felt she could be useful. She was instructed to integrate herself into the Knockturn society and report back anything she might find that could be useful to the Aurors and their many investigations (mainly those into some group known as the WBA) She had no idea if she could pull it off but at least she had Dazmond, an easy in - for now.

Dazmond raised her eyes to an engaged Landis, matching his smile as she exhaled and started on his hand of cards.  The cards were as large as those in a Tarot deck and the backs were forest green with silver vines intertwining into a fine pattern.  Landis was in his element and it certainly made the mood for Dazmond.  Still balancing a fag between her lips, she slid his hand across the table toward him, one eye squinted shut as she avoided the cigarette smoke that billowed before her face.  Plucking it from her mouth, she ashed and looked over at the Hogwarts Potions Mistress, hearing her out as she busied herself with a drink of ale. 

Miss Vaillancourt had been on Dazmond's radar for a time, though her move from perfumery to a Professional seat on the Hogwarts staff had certainly worked to peak Dazmond's interest; she'd been hankering to meet the woman ever since she'd first heard the news that there was a female potions expert working at Hogwarts.  It was curious now to watch the wandfire between Juliette and Landis; Daz was still getting a sense of who the Witch was and how she fit into her friend's life.  But as far as first impressions went, Dazmond thought she was fine stock, not to mention undeniably beautiful.  Showing friendly amusement at her fair warnings, Daz set her beer aside and dealt the redheaded Witch into the game. 

Daz looked up toward the Witch again at her question, confirming it was her she was addressing.  Dazmond cracked a smile and looked from Juliette to Landis and back to Juliette.  "Ohh -- one of many, but I'd venture a tentative yes," she said amusedly, sliding some cards over to Juliette with a smile.  She was then promptly distracted by a shadow at her side, and turned round to have a light kiss planted on her cheek.   

"Heya Laney," said Dazmond before gasping dramatically at the little boxed gift.  "You beast!"  She picked it up and shook it close to her ear, checked her reflection with it and placed it back down by her beer.   She then busied herself doling out Dolly's cards.  "Yeah, Dom's in the loo.  I think he's dropping a deuce."  Dazmond smirked at Dolly's display of the love-hate relationship she shared with the Potions Mistress's elder brother.  She hardly batted an eye at the shotgun kiss, as Dolly's friendly actions were more or less expected on a night like this.  It made her happy to see her friend back in a careless and amorous state of mind, really.  It helped with her own sense of perceived normality.  Speaking of which....

Daz felt flooded with warmth hearing the deep voice of Cinaed Tawse flow over the group.  She stubbed out her cigarette excitedly and scrambled out of her chair to embrace him in an eager hug.  She hadn't seen him in ages, but had come to love him like a big, burly brother and a brilliant Knockturn hero.  Not to say she didn't know what the war-torn Wizard was capable of; but trust had been established for Dazmond to the point that she fully expected to be on his good side and not the bad.  It meant the world to her that he'd risk being sighted to join them again at their old haunt and his creation, the cosy and swanky Black Chimaera.  It felt like being home, safe in the arms of her dysfunctional black market family.

Daz finally let up on him but her grin remained planted on her face.  "Salazar's nads," she said.  "You can bet dares as far as I'm concerned."  She looked at him with an appreciative glint in her eyes before turning back toward her seat.  She took a moment to fish in her bag and pulled out a small bottle labelled as Margery Kempe's Amorous Invasion, then dropped it in the centre of the table next to Landis's wager and Dolly's jewellery.  She went back to dealing hands for Laney, Cinaed, and Dominik before they were joined by another, Dazmond's former Werewolf client, Lexus Dale, a familiar spirit in a way and confidante to Dazmond.  She'd come to dubiously trust the Witch since receiving a tip-off that her prior boss had been keeping surveillance on her.  It all helped Daz to piece together enough to be scared out of her mind, but at least it had confirmed some big bad hovering over her shoulder.  She knew now it was not in her imagination, but that the case was also mercifully on hold.  In Dazmond's eyes, Lexus had always been on her side.  She had no reason to suspect that any of that might've changed.

Though, something in her appearance had certainly changed, and Dazmond couldn't help but notice that she seemed worlds more comfortable in her own skin than she ever had previously.  A darkness enveloped her, but she also radiated sexy wolfy confidence.  Daz felt a bit proud, assuming from her demeanour that Lexus Dale had been integrating herself into empowered circles in Knockturn and beyond.  She greeted her with a warm smile over her shoulder as the woman whispered greetings in her ear.  "Thanks dear," she offered, and as Miss Dale turned toward the bar, Daz couldn't help but raise her eyebrows to the group.  The Witch was a Witch!  Empowerment was evident.  This was, indeed, off to be a bloody great night.  She smiled and dealt the last hands before setting out the rest of the deck and taking a first look at her cards.

"Is this the real Landis?"

Juliette was obviously teasing, her hand slipping slyly into his lap, but it was still a question he felt best to let Dazmond answer. She did, satisfying both his ego and his momentary unease with her "ohh, one of many - ", and Landis glanced sidelong at Juliette and smirked quietly into his drink. If not for the smirk, he might have managed to look more innocent.

Laney noticed him and tipped him a wink. Conscious of Juliette at his side, Landis gave her a smile that was short enough to be safe but which lacked his usual distance, containing instead an edge of definite warmth. There were no small number of friendly acquaintences he was gaining from inside of Dazmond's circle, ones which he certainly would not have picked up had he been left to his own chilly devices - that had always been the case. Laney was a significant-pause sort of friendly, far too young for him but too old to be classified as a member of Dazmond's devoted child-troupe. She sprawled in a chair and Dolly curled towards her like a predatory flower towards the sun; Landis was being nice tonight and he did not say a single cruel thing. He did not say a thing as Dolly flashed her diamonds, purred her laugh, or went on a diatribe about the missing Dominik. Remembering their tentative - and bizarre bizarre bizarre - hospital peace Landis kept hold of his acerbic tongue and tried to be pleased for her, that even if she'd returned to her garish behavior she meant to stay clear of Dominik.

A familiar - and unexpected - voice made him start, and Landis turned in surprise as Tawse lumbered towards them. Dazmond hopped out of her chair and clung to him like a monkey, her enthusiasm almost as much of a surprise as Cinaed's appearance had been. Her drawled voice piped sweet and bright while Landis settled back down, head slightly cocked and gaze steadily on Cinaed until the man noticed him. Dazmond grinned and grinned - he sat like a very blonde and patient rock - yes, this was a familiar dynamic.

He did not need Cinaed, despite whatever admiration he had for him. Landis could function quite well on his own, take his own initiative, even see Cinaed's run as a potential career windfall while regretting the blow to the WBA at the semi-loss of its leader. But to see him here, so unexpectedly, provoked pleasant surprise and the slightest sensation of relief. In another man it could have been called reassurance; not in Landis, but he was nevertheless smiling when Cinaed nodded to him.

In the background of his mind he thought, is it safe? and what a stupid risk to take, even as his eyes skimmed the woman who came forward to offer Dazmond a hug. She murmured in Dazmond's ear, her brindled blonde hair falling in waves over her face, the hand laid gently on his friend's shoulder tipped with nails just a little too long. When she turned and left, Landis' eyes followed. The expression on his face was shuttered, impassive, nothing unfamiliar to Juliette beside him, or to Dolly across - nothing out of the ordinary for Dazmond to notice, or Cinaed, or Laney. But the weight of his narrow-eyed gaze over his cup as he watched the web of vivid scars half-hidden under her swinging hair was full of intent and chilly judgement.   

But it was not a night to spend keeping himself at a distance while around him the others laughed. When even Cinaed had come to join the party, he was supposed to let the drink and the company mellow him too. Dazmond would soften his sharp edges, keep him from being too serious, and if he was cautious, Juliette would not understand. He was naturally adverse to letting his guard down; he was a very responsible man. Even now the drinks that passed through his hands were paced, and nursed, and held onto 'til the very dregs to slow down the barrage of multiple rounds that had already been ordered. But there was little practical need to pace himself, and to appease his lingering paranoia he could think of no one more dangerous than some of the ones they had at their table.

Landis took the hand of cards as Dazmond slid it to him, and let his attention become distracted again.

One after the other, the guests arrived or reappeared to their seats with heavy, dusky drinks in hand. Smoke filled the air, and laughter, and merry wishes one might not expect from such a darkly dressed, wild-maned group of gamblers and outliers. But Juliette quickly found her niche among these strangers, settled beside Landis with her pale wrist lounging languidly in his lap.

"Ohh -- one of many [...]"
Dazmond’s response served only to peak her interest about Landis Morgan’s true person. His silence in the matter, the brief, but knowing smirk made her want to drag him away from a moment’s interrogation, but she came to her senses and gestured for the barman to send her another drink-- which he obligingly did with the ease of magic and the skill of a man who had been pouring ale since before the last war.

“I wonder if the other Landises are so quiet,” she murmured, leaning close to him, her breath warm against his neck, cheek, ear. “I would like to find out.”

It was true, and she spoke it plain,... if so that only he might hear. For every discovery Juliette made about bedfellow tonight, there was another question over which she humored. She rather liked this, being with him in a group, in public, in her clothes. Sometimes it was nice to chat about less serious things than under the table potions, or to be louder than one might be while sharing a newspaper and coffee (tea) on a snowy afternoon.

After taking another much-appreciated sip of what was decidedly not coffee, Juliette used her free hand to trap a bottle in her purse. The semi-opaque glass was pear shaped, its hue growing darker toward the base, the ombré stain ending in fine black. Stoppered with silver, it was two-thirds full of a liquid whose color was not quite discernible through the glass. The vintage perfume was inlaid with magic which not only preserved its scent for decades past the date of any ordinary fragrance, but which enhanced its effect over time, so that the aroma lingered on the wearer a little longer than it might have a month or year ago. And yet, it was fragile: both the bottle and its contents were suitably rare, out of make, and able to fetch a sound price for any gambler who might not wish to be redolent of such gentle scents. Juliette did not explain any of this, but merely left it in the middle of the table with the other wagers.

The greetings between the blond man and the others were not entirely lost on her, and whether Landis actually acknowledged their arrivals with words and smiles, or merely judged with icy eyes, Juliette paid quiet attention to each. She appeared to have something stuck in her lashes as they bat furiously in the direction of the wiry youth with choppy hair and a dimple to her smirk. Juliette inaudibly hummed into her mug.

The man who drew the most attention-- even more than the apparent werewolf, or Dolly St. James herself-- was tall and bearded and... apparently the owner of the fine establishment that was The Black Chimaera. Juliette offered him a grin and nodded her hello.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she allowed, extending a hand toward the man swathed in black.

And then, turning her attention to Dolly: “But we are old friends.” Her grin became bigger, more familiar, and Juliette wiggled her fingers. She withdrew her hand from Landis' lap as if it were nothing at all, and placed it on the back of her chair, balancing herself from her seat. Making her way to where Dolly now stood-- and proudly proclaimed the birthday girl's brother a moody egotist who could do unpleasant things with his broom handle rather than show his face this evening-- the redhead leaned in with an embracing arm and kissed each of Dolly’s cheeks in turn, apparently not phased by the other woman's display of affection for the youthful smoker. These were the sort of people who would seem to forgive her forgotten graces, if Juliette had forgotten them, for all the sinister purity that swathed them and made them-- oddly enough-- glow. But the drinks had hit her blood stream, and Juliette was feeling friendly. Besides, Dolly was a friend-- an old business associate, and quite the brilliant soul for a girl's night out. They had become rather well acquainted and admiring of one another when Juliette had first moved to London, and it would be nice to catch up tonight.

"You keep good company, Dolly." Looking back to Landis, she gave him a rather... pointed look, and then slowly made her way back to her seat. What Darian had said swirled in her mind's cauldron, and Juliette wondered exactly how many of these women Landis had bedded. Perhaps it was a poker tactic. She picked up her drink, sipped, and then began to decipher the hand she'd been dealt by Dazmond.

Dominik had in fact been 'in the loo', though not in the same facilities that the pub offered; he'd been bathing in his own tub to unwind from a hard day's play on the Pitch in Falmouth, a little of his sister's bruise remedy poured under the tap for his speedy recovery from bludgers and bumps.  Dominik's flat was just round the other side of Knockturn with a private entrance into the seedy alley, a miraged apartment-house for a few high-profile Witches and Wizards who didn't fancy being bothered.  He made the short trip to the Black Chimaera on foot, his fresh black robes picking up dirt as they grazed the ground of the sodden alleyway.

He made his way into the pub, eyes setting immediately on the obvious focus of attention in the center of the small, homey room.  Almost as soon as he started navigating the space visually, Dominik became aware of the greatly hulking Cinaed Tawse, not a mate by any count but certainly not a stranger.  It wasn't his size nor his reputation that most bothered Dominik's easiness, but rather the fact of his history that made him feel small.  He never knew where he exactly stood with the man, and shared none of his sister's simple trust and devotion.  He liked him well enough from what he knew, and certainly wouldn't be the one to blabber what he'd seen, but Dom nevertheless always felt a crushing shame when in the presence of an ex-Azzie, let alone one as distinguished as Tawse.  Respectful but dubious was the look he offered, his eyes upturned to the man shortly as he drew in a deep breath.  He made fast to distract himself before his looking had the chance to be perceived as staring, bowing his gaze away from the Alpha dog.  Dominik took to an empty seat as close to being cross from Dolly as he could manage.

This meant that he was planted next to Landis, who he half-turned to in greeting.  He offered an "All right?" before looking on beyond the man to the red-haired stranger to his side.  He hardly began to introduce himself, for even as much as he was grounded, Dom was feeling fidgety with Tawse present.  He tried to cool his nerves by glancing over towards Dolly.  She was playing footsie with Lorraine Irving, who was seemingly a newcomer to their table, considering that the red-head was up and going over to plant a kiss on her cheeks.  He'd just missed the kiss that would've made him turn over inside with hidden jealousy.  It was lucky for both him and Dolly, who had just recently begun to take a place in his active imagination.

Taking up an ale from a small tray of unclaimed drinks, Dominik looked to Laney for some comfort.  They'd already exchanged a few words after the game and Dom was glad to have her round some more.  He may have been ruthless with her in the match earlier, but he'd never be a beast off the Pitch when it came to Laney.  He'd grown quite fond of her during their time together on and off the Pitch her first year out of Hogwarts.  As far as he was concerned, she was part of his pack, and a grounding presence.  He wasn't sure what it was about social gatherings that put him so ill at ease as of late, but knew that he'd much rather be fantasizing over Niobe Thursby and trying to deny his attraction to Dolores as he honed his pencil drawings of the Half-blooded news reporter with the fluffy dreads. 

"We're square, yeah," he said after the Witch had seated herself post-kisses, half-questioning and half-amused.  "You nearly blinded me with your flight pattern, Laney.  Was a fecking game tried true, far as you played."  He raised his glass toward her, more than happy to distract his attention with a familiar and loved face.  Her bad posture was half her charm.  Especially considering her quickness on the Pitch.

"Dom," gave Dazmond, sliding a hand of cards at him.  Dominik took them up and looked them over briefly before setting a chocolate frog in the pot.  For anyone who thought he'd wager better, he had a thing or two to say about charities.  Mainly that those fecking bloodsuckers weren't doing cods' all with his proceeds.  He had his sister to remind him that the Ministry of Magic was busy sanctioning Muggle employment in Diagon Alley with the likes of his sponsorship.   The better to burn it, but like he had the choice, right.

The longer the alcohol had to soak into her system the more Dolly felt like her old self - the self she had been ages before; when card games with Daz and Landis had been routine rather than rarity. Her blue eyes flickered to his face - though immovable and acerbic tongue in check... well she had known him long enough to know some of his best insults. It was both strange and comforting he wasn't taking the knife to her personality tonight. She had come to expect his spoken judgment on ever move she made; it was a soundtrack to any truly epic escapde back in the day (even before he'd started to hate her for the books and the too ferocious flash of her personality). She had not forgotten his visit, their conversation; she had not been able to somehow find a time turner and take so much of it back. They had never loved one another; but being lost in him, feeling his hands on the small of her back when she was most broken over Dominik... C'est la vie! Life was meant for living and living well. One could not live well if they clung to the missteps of youth. What he was or wasn't willing to forgive was up to him. She could simply be herself and hope on a night like tonight when Dazmond seemed so happy neither of them would put her in the position to choose sides or mediate a battle of snark.

Though the shared glance felt as though it stretched for hours between them it was not more than a moment when Tawse broke through her thought bubble. She felt ruby lips twitch with her Dolly smile as Dazmond slathered him with affection. Pure of blood and noble of heart; all that shit Dom had often spouted about. If she were smart Dolly would have been terrified of a man like Cin... of course brilliant as she was she had often crossed six lines of stupidity for a good time. She'd walked a thin line of attraction to him since the first time he asked how she took a Martini and the most natural answer in the world was an extremely amused, "Dirty, a bit like I want my men". She did not leap from her seat to coo over him, leastwise not until Dominik actually had the spine to show up. She gave Daz her space with the man before standing - form hugging strategically cut out velvet in full view now rather that hidden behind her slouching form and the table as she made her way to the mass of hulking man - not even bothering to steal a look over her shoulder to know Dom was watching, she grinned playfully, having to stretch just a smidgen to bump his cheek with her own, "Your contribution to the Pot, my darling fugitive, ought to be the promise when I trounce you wickedly at this hand you will finally let me braid daisies in your beard. Tis the season after all, and! I believe it would highly amuse the birthday girl, mostly because I am positive it would amuse me," she gave him a wink and hugged his arm for just a moment.

And then there was her favorite delicious redhead! Women who shared a mutual adoration for one another - though the fact she was here with Landis was... well it wasn't worrisome so much as she hoped he'd kept his bloody mouth shut about any time they'd been foolish or drunk enough to fall into bed together. Still she smiled her wicked Dolly smile at Juliette and gave a sisnct nod of agreement, "We are old friends; but we should not use such nasty words. Old implies length of years which I refuse to divulge. We must find a better word for the depth of our friendship Darling," her voice was a coo as she wrapped her arms around the other woman and bumped cheeks with her. It felt good to be...back in this sort of enviroment. She had denied herself far too long - both for the grief of losing Tabitha, but also because she had not had the slightest clue how to be herself after that bloody idiot just up and kissed her and then left! Who in their right mind planted a big fat kiss on Dolly St. James and then skittered off into the rain? Idiots, that's who - whom? Whatever, her inner writer needn't bother with proper grammar tonight. Fecking tool that he was, she had yet to even acknowledge him as she lowered herself back into her seat. She would not engage (obviously her desperate plea for him not to leave her at the hospital long forgotten after the potion and pain had worn away.

"I do keep splendid company; but you already knew that! You're one of the crown jewels in my collection," she grinned (though it seemed tinted with genuine fond sweetness for the Potions' Professor). Settling back in her chair she let her eyes graze Dominik for a moment but nothing more before turning back to Laney, cuddling close to the side of the lithe woman she almost forgot her cards, "What about you Irving? In or out? I say biggest loser has to vow to be Dazzy's test subject for an  entire week," her voice was natural as it took literally not effort at all from Dolly to ignore him. She'd had quite a lot of practice, years worth of practice actually. Besides he did not get to show up on her night out, the first in ages and ages, and spoil it all by being twitchy and needing soothing that in the presence of the Great Cináed Tawse that he had made a valid contrabu - blah blah bloody blah it was a speech she had recited so many times her head fecking spun contemplation. So she said nothing, simply plucking Laney's spare cigarette from behind her ear and lighting it on a candle placed just off center of the table, "Thank you Poppet". She paused to give the girl a peck on the cheek leaving behind another mark of tell tale Dolly-Red lipstck. "Who's a girl got to shag to get another drink - and for Salazar's sake something stronger than beer. Ladies do not drink something that smells like warm piss...and frankly, my Darlings, neither to do I".

Lexus was thankful for the speedy response of the Bartender. She downed two straight shots of fire whiskey for a bit of liquid courage before accepting a large pint of ale. She contemplated the glass for a moment and sighed. Having been in the country for almost five years now she felt she would never get used to the fact that most if not all the pubs in London didn't serve their beer cold. She still felt like there was nothing greater than sitting back on a hot summer's day drinking an ice cold beer. She shook the thought and turned back to the matter at hand. This was supposed to be easy. She wasn't actually on assignment or anything regardless of the fact that she'd be reporting everything that happened tonight back to Jonas. She was supposed to be enjoying herself, after all it was her best friend's birthday, Dazmond had been there to make her birthday a night to remember and she wanted to equally return the favour.

She crossed back to the large table in the center of the bar, making a sound not unlike a purr (though closer to an appreciative growl) as she passed by Cinead. She had always had an attraction to the mountain of a man but tonight was not one to pursue such things. She soon took up a seat somewhere between Daz and Dom and placed her ale on the table. She would wait to see how this hand turned out before asking to be dealt in. Hopefully in the meantime she wouldn't get too many dark looks from the others at the table. She was Daz's friend and had been invited which gave her every right to be there but even in the middle of Knockturn Alley in one of the most notorious of bars she had no idea how welcomed a known werewolf would be.

Landis would only indulge her to the slightest degree, and Laney soon lost interest-- for the moment. The man had a ginger and her claws scratching at his side, and Laney was too sober to give a damn.

Out of nowhere came Dolly St. James, one of Dazmond's oldest friends, and Laney soon found herself mouth to mouth with the glammed up witch. Like the most skilled of Dementors, Dominik's rumored ex love tickled the soul from Laney's chest... or the smoke from her lungs, anyway. Breathing in new air when the woman's warm, plump lips parted from her own, Laney allowed herself a moment to readjust to the light, and couldn't help smirking as Dolly exhaled the remnants of tobacco and nicotine that had been swirling poisonously in the depths of the seeker before their lips met.

She gave Dolly a nod that said, 'fair game,' and soon found her eyes zeroing in on a newcomer-- or a man simply rejoining the untamed group. Everyone needed a beater on their team.

"We're square, yeah [...] You nearly blinded me with your flight pattern, Laney.  Was a fecking game tried true, far as you played."

Laney plucked her own glass from nowhere at all, and bumped it against the glass rim of Dom's own. "Always," she assured him. "Though I'm shocked Augie hasn't held the owners at wand point to buy you back to his side." She winked, and took a sip... before indulging in another drag, this time exhaling for herself, however lovely Dolly St. James happened to be. Tilting her head a bit, shaggy hair falling every which way and then some, Laney added in a lower voice, "How have you been?" Not still forgetting to stock his kitchen and spending way too much of that celebrity income on charcoals and sketch parchment, she hoped. But Dom had a way of disappearing from the light faster than Laney could catch a snitch, and no one quite knew what he got up to in those shadowy stretches. He was not unlike his sister in that way, she supposed.

Fingers reaching for her ear, the young witch found her cigarette thieved right from its convenient shelf. Raising a brow at her new neighbor-- Dolly-- she nodded again, and decided not to replenish her stock just yet. Instead, she traced the others' eyes to the center of the table, where a growing treasure chest was laid open and bare for the taking. "Mmmm..." Laney hadn't brought a bag; instead, she reached into her tight pocket and produced what appeared to be a strip of photo negatives from inside the cigarette pack. She'd stolen them from a recent Quidditch Illustrated set-- outtakes that were never meant to see the light of day, unfinished shots of famed players in the buff, between changes. They'd been taken with a hyper-magical camera, and needed no solution to make the miniscule pitch stars move about their frames. She tossed them into the center of the table, watching them unravel slightly, like the spine of a jack-in-the-box. Her manager would be at her throat if he'd known Laney had borrowed them.

A broad, jovial smile stretched between the two halves of Cinaed's beard and he greeted Dazmond with a warm, firm hug.  He held her tightly for a moment, briefly relishing the feeling of normalcy and home.  Beyond this moment, there were so many questions, so many unknowns that they'd come to dominate his world.  He was a fugitive and he supposed, for the foreseeable future, that was the end of it.  He would never not be a fugitive - not unless something miraculous happened.  But, his current state of exile just made these moments in the company of friends all the more treasured and sweet. 

"You can bet dares as far as I'm concerned."

"Now that sounds like an exciting game," Cinaed barked a laugh.  Though he spoke to Dazmond, the arrival of another young woman had caught his attention.  His eyes tracked Lexus Dale as the woman joined the group but he was careful to keep the questions and curiosity out of his expression.  He'd seen Dale in Dazmond's company so he knew the two were acquaintances, at least.  But, that wasn't the only time he'd seen her in his pub.  He plainly remembered the first time he'd met this woman when she'd been in that Ginger Private Investigator-turned Auror's company and employ.  That quidditch player, Forrester, had tried to cozy up with her while he and the Ginger had discussed gathering intel on Robin.  The very same Ginger who'd slipped into the Black Chimaera about a month ago, asking after Cinaed. 

Cinaed glanced quickly towards Colburn behind the bar before turning back to Dazmond and taking a seat.  There was a chance Dazmond knew something he didn't.  There was an equal chance Cinaed knew something Dazmond did not.  Lexus could be being blackmailed by the Ministry and stuck in a tricky situation.  She could be doing what she could to regain some control of her life after the Ides of March.  She could be spying for them - either willingly or unwillingly.  Any way, the situation warranted some more casual and carefully planned investigation.  Help for the woman if she needed it and ... less pleasant consequences if she meant the group harm.

Right now, though, there was plenty of sources of distraction and amusement.  Cinaed turned his attentions to the red head.  "Cinaed Tawse," he offered in cordial greeting, taking the extended hand and brushing a light kiss across the back of it.  Oh, what a blessed, blessed evening.  Cinaed's attentions were drawn next to the ever-splendid Dolly and a playful smirk flittered across his features as he returned the woman's embrace.  He pressed a light kiss against the woman's cheek.  "Wagering the promise of a trouncing?  How can a man turn down such an offer?"  He barked before settling himself in a seat next to Lexus. 

"Evening, my dear," he offered casually as he picked up his hand of cards.  "How have you been fairing since all of the excitement last month?  I know a little too well how the Ministry likes to make us their bitch.  You're in good company."