-- Outfit --

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If there was one thing Demetri was sure of, it was that his liver was possibly pickled by now... And perhaps he had no clue what day it was. Since being fired from Hogwarts, Demetrius Woolfolk had consumed enough alcohol to possibly preserve his body. It would not rot when he finally died of alcohol poisoning. Beautiful forever. His hair had gotten rather shaggy and a rather unsightly goatee had formed around his chapped lips. He was pathetic. He could possibly blame the students for making him become a raging alcoholic (they all hated his guts, after all) but the mere fact that he was fired mid-year was just the icing on the cake. Since his departure of Hogwarts, he had gotten letters from Adelia Delacroix, at least. And that made him feel like he wasn't a completely awful professor. Someone had appreciated him. Adelia had always been his secret favorite, anyhow. And he was actually able to call her "Addie" now.

But, other than her, no one really bothered to check up on the unemployed loser. He had dubbed himself a "freelance astronomer." He hadn't much of an income. Well, he hardly had an income, really. Sometimes he managed to scrape up a spare job but he would always end up buying booze with his check. His fridge held a can of scalloped tomatoes, half a bottle of mustard, and a cup of what he could only hope was cottage cheese. He mainly just ate cereal, which he didn't have any milk for, so he usually drank his whiskey down with it. He went to sleep late and drunk, woke up late with a hangover, and repeated. Demetri Woolfolk had no business in calling himself an adult.

In a desperate attempt to regain his composure, he decided to head out to a coffee shop he had seen in London that looked rather interesting. Not only could he clear his head, but his hangover could possibly subside and the pounding in his head would finally die down. He was sick of being sick. He felt unhealthy. Bags were forming under his eyes, big purple ones. He looked like an alcoholic. Which was exactly what he was.

He ordered his coffee black and found an empty table by the window so he could feel the warmth of the sun beating down on him as he drained his system of pain. The coffee was steaming. It burned down his throat, but in a much more pleasant, gentle way than the whiskey he chugged each day. It was a nice feeling. He could almost feel himself sobering up. The whirling of the room began to slow. His tired eyes became much more awake, his boyish charm streaming out of him once more. Coffee was magic. While Demetri wasn't going to give up alcohol any time soon, he like to feel the relief of being able to see straight. Being able to feel calm and not about to puke his brains out at every given moment.

The empty seat in front of him seemed to almost smile along with him, its curved back forming a friendly grin. Demetri laughed at his silliness. Chairs couldn't smile. That's so bizarre. But the thought still comforted him in a way nothing else had since his descent. He suddenly felt lonely. He remembered when Addie first visited him and asked him if he enjoyed being alone. He questioned the thought at the time. Like it was ridiculous. He wished he could go back and tell her, "No. I don't." But times were much different back then. Demetri felt like he was maturing almost, that he was starting to understand that not everything can be happy and not everyone will like him and whatnot.

But Demetri felt happier, albeit lonely, now that he was gone from Hogwarts. Good riddance.

He glanced at the paper that sat on the table next to him. The day was April eighteenth. Demetri chuckled at himself. He couldn't believe how long he had shacked himself up. He felt a whole lot better now he was out in public. The smiling chair in front of him was enough company for him at the moment. He did, actually, have over thirty cats living in his house (he actually took the time to buy food for them; he wasn't a completely awful person) but as much as he loved them, he also needed some contact with other beings. Such a chairs. Or a human, hopefully.

Veronique stumbled into the coffee shop, and up to the counter. Her limp was more pronounced than usual, and her hair was disheveled but neither bothered her. She was dressed in a loose-hanging gray sweater, blue leggings and an old pair of black boots. Ah, the joys of Saturday, her day away from the wizarding world, the Department of Mysteries, and the charms labs… and the explosions. It is not that she didn’t love her job, she did, but it had been an unusually rough week. She had made a total of three trips to St. Mungo’s Hospital and was still waiting for the last of the scales that spouted on her back to fall off. Worst of all, she was going to have to make up all the time she missed next week. So it was no wonder why that by the time Friday night rolled around there was only one thing on her mind, booze.

She had spent the majority of her Saturday in her bed watching television, trying not to vomit: the glories of binge drinking. But after of hours of waiting, the nausea seemed to pass and she got dressed, forgoing a shower) and headed out. This coffee shop had been her morning after resort ever since she moved into her apartment, which was just up the block. She didn’t even need to order a drink; the women at the counter simply took a single smiling glance and went about making her Saturday special. Two Parts espresso, three parts Cocoa and a large Hazelnut muffin. Veronique smiled and graciously thanked the woman, paying her with exact changed, she had come prepared. She made her way to a table in the corner and had a seat. She tore off a piece of her muffin, and dripped it in her drink before eating it.