This was a big mistake It was Saturday night and Colm was in a place that was altogether not his style. Signature was a nightclub, a term he had first heard a few days ago. He had thought this meant a simple bar that stayed open all night that one had to be a member of, hence the club half, but it turned out to be unlike any pub he had been in. Instead of small groups of friends talking over a small drink, discussing the days events and who was going to win the British and Irish Quiditch league, people were dancing with people they had never met. The music was so loud Colm could barely hear himself think.

Being a not-unattractive man, though he had never thought he was anything above average, he had gotten some attention from woman. But talking to new people wasn't his idea of fun. Stick him infront of a room of his friends he would talk their ear off but new people. No thanks. And yet he had realised a long time ago that one doesn't make friends unless you actually talk with new people. Afterall the orignal aim of the evening, a quite drink before tracking an injured Unicorn to help heal it's leg, was out of the window. So he had decided to attempt to make a new friend.

He had a few hours before he had to head up to the castle.

His wavy black hair rested on his shoulders. He was wearing a dark blue Wizards robe. Like usually his wand stuck out of a pocket in the top of his robe. On the table was a glass of Mal Whiskey. He wasn't a great drinker, infact he preferred Hot Chocolate to most things, but even he knew that ordering a Hot Chocolate would seem strange in such an establishment. He kept reaching for a book in his pocket, his original idea included getting some reading done with his quiet drink, but he assumed that would also look out of place.

It was a shame really. The book was on the Hungarian Horntail.

Margo did not handle stress well.  This was a known fact, despite the fact everyone acted as though she were somehow invincible to the problems that faced her.  Okay, well, maybe it wasn’t totally everyone else’s fault – Margo didn’t like to show she was feeling weak and vulnerable; she certainly didn’t like to tell people she was scared.  The only person she really told any of that to was the biggest jerk on the face of the planet sometimes, and in lieu of that, Margo sometimes found it completely necessary  to just break away and go wild.

So, without a second thought, she left her temporary shelter and headed somewhere.  She didn’t really know where she was going to go or what she was going to do, or who she was going to do it with, but she wasn’t sitting inside twiddling her thumbs and waiting.  This Dugan nonsense was way over her head, and she just wanted him out of the way so she could proceed with her normal life.  It was bad enough she really couldn’t go to her normal dives, so she decided to be a little classier than normal.

It wasn’t as though she wasn’t the type that could fit in at Signature – tall, exotic looking, maybe couldn’t wear a skirt or anything (Who wanted to see a metal leg popping out from the underside of some fabric?), but she was dressed to the nines, in all black – leather pants, of course – without them, even in heat, she would be lost, and her knee high (flat) boots, accessorized a pair of sunglasses on even though it was already dark out.  Fergie would have died, but she wasn’t out to impress Fergie tonight.  She wasn’t out to impress anyone.  She just wanted to have fun.

Signature was going to have to be it.  She apparated swiftly to outside of the place and was happily greeted with the sound of music already blasting from inside. Margo put the sunglasses atop her head and strutted inside, unafraid of the consequences.  Even if someone saw her in here it was packed and it was going to be impossible to find her. 

It was only a matter of time before Margo had a drink in her hand and she was dancing with a group of people she only vaguely recognized, probably from work, and laughed with the best of them, shouting lyrics at the top of her lungs.  Of course, the drink didn’t last that long and she had to make her way to the periphery to acquire more, so she did so, pushing through the crowd without abandon and tripped into a clearing near someone who was actually wearing full robes.

Margo raised her eyebrows, “Aren’t you a little over dressed?” she commented freely, obviously he was wearing full robes – he meant to garner attention, and Margo, well, she didn’t keep her mouth shut long enough to think about much of anything. 

''Eeerrrr,'' was the sound that flooded from his mouth when he heard the woman. He found it a rather strange conversation starter; surely you should introduce yourself before commenting on someones sense of fashion. Of which Colm had little to none. Appearances mattered very little to him. Dress tidily and respectively are the only two things he makes sure he does. But this is due to his self conciousness. As soon as he is in the wild beauty of the Forest he doesn't care if his fingernails are full of dirt and his robes covered with bark.

Before answering the woman he looked down and examined his clothes. He had always worn robes, the only time he didn't was when he was sleeping. ''Well. I don't know. Am I? I've never been to this type of place before.''' He looked up for a second and saw the woman. She seemed respectable, though he didn't like Muggle clothing, and rather attractive. That would complicate things. He had never been good with attractive woman; even ones he had no interest in.  Quite unlike his Royal Navy sailor brother.

Remembering his manners Colm stood and extended his hand. ''Colm, I mean I'm Colm, and you are?'' He stood their like a statue, rather uncomfortable with the situation. He had once heard that changing the conversation towards a subject you know well can help...ease anxiety. So he reached into his pocket and pulled out his book on the Hungarian Horntail. ''Dragons,'' he splurtted out, ''great creatures aren't they? I work with other animals myself. I'm the new Groundskeeper at Hogwarts.''

Although he was not at ease he did feel slightly more comfortable. Unlike the nightclub scene and fashion Magical animals was something he understood. And to a very high degree if he did say so himself/

This guy was a real winner, Margo thought to herself, trying to restrain the laughter that threatened to come out of her mouth.  Clearly he did not get out too often, or he had been raised by the same sort of stuffy purebloods she was used to, but hadn’t been rebellious enough in spirit to branch out.  Whatever the case, she raised her eyebrows at him and the left side of her mouth tugged upward into a grin, “Well, if that wasn’t obvious I don’t know what is,” she chirped happily, looking around briefly to gauge where she was in relationship to the bar. 

Putting the empty glass in her hand down on a ledge (someone would pick it up later, to be sure, that’s what people did at places like this), Margo was surprised when he spoke up again – and that she didn’t have to look down to see him – it always just caught her by surprise, maybe because she was so used to Bagnold.  Asshole.  She blinked rapidly, trying to readjust her focus on the person in front of her and took his hand curiously, “Nice to meet you, Colm,” she shook his hand, “M’name’s Margo,” she smiled, never gave her full name – Marguerite was just… ugh! 

Then it got silent, and awkward.  Margo wasn’t used to talking to awkward people, or at least not filling every bit of silence with her own voice, but at least the music was going and she was bopping along, quite happily, hips swaying just slightly with the rest of her. 

He suddenly reached into his pocket and Margo felt a sense of dread.  That had only happened to her once in Signature before and she had been so drunk she didn’t know what to  - oh… it was just a book.  A book?  What kind of person brought a book to a nightclub?  She supposed the same kind that dressed like Merlin. 

Well, that was interesting, and she blinked at the cover – dragons?!  What was this person?  She looked from the book to his face again and couldn’t help but laugh a little, “You’re bloody mad,” she grinned, “that is ace.  Groundskeeper, eh?  Bet you don’t get many dragons there,” She smirked – wasn’t going to reveal her hand yet, after all!  This could be fun!

Colm shook his head. ''No, no Dragons that I am aware of; rather unfortunate really. But there is an abundance of incredible creatures in the forest. Also I get to deal with creatures of Human intelligence. Centaurs mainly. But Acromantula are much smarter than people give them credit for.'' When she had seen the book her face gave away something that Colm had expected; most people didn't bring books to Nightclubs...Colm didn't understand why? Books were always interesting. And a book on Dragons and other amazing creatures! Well that beat dancing with strangers.

''Soooooo,'' he said unable to decide what to really say. What did you ask someone in this situation? Where are you from? What are your thoughts on the treatment of House-Elves? Or maybe what their O.W.L.S results were? Colm was lost and it surely showed on his bearded face. A nervous silence ensued and Colm did what he always did when he was nervous. He began to twist the large Emerald ring on his hand as he forced a nervous smile across his face.

Would the woman leave or sit down?

Realising that she had not been so surprised when work popped into the conversation he assumed that was a normal conversation topic. ''Do you work? I mean what do you do? Work wise I mean.'' The word seemed to fall from his mouth before he had thought them through. He contemplated getting up and leaving without a word, if he had been bothered to get his apparation license when he was 17 like everyone else that would of been an easy way to do it, but it always made him sick. However he remembered that his mother had told him to treat woman with respect and apparently walking away without a goodbye was considered rude.

Margo nodded along with what he said, though paid little mind.  She was far more visual than all of that and seeing a person, she had to actually see them to make any assumptions about them.  This man was tall, she noticed that, and it was hard to tell much else under the robes.  That was one of the reasons she hated them – they left so much to the imagination!  She was stuck looking at a face.

Though, she supposed, as far as faces went, it wasn’t a bad one.  Kind of scruffy, she was pleased with that, and somewhat intense looking – though nervous.  It was as though he didn’t socialize much, and looking at the Godric Gryffindor get-up and the big ring and the book, well, that assumption was right on the galleons. 

She figured, since she had nothing better to do and this person was certainly a character, she would sit down.  Maybe against her better judgment, last time she met a stranger in a bar, it was MacDuff and she had made terrible choices.  She doubted this person was a criminal though – not suave or charming enough – and she wasn’t drunk, almost regretfully. 

When the conversation turned back to her, Margo was suddenly forced to participate again and blinked rapidly.  “Oh! Me?” she laughed, “nothing of consequence – at least not anymore,” she smirked.  “You know, dragon researching doesn’t get you very far and the career has a dreadfully short life expectancy.  If you’re lucky, you just end up in the RCMC, where I am currently.” 

“Not quite as exciting as acromantulas and centaurs,” she pointed out, “but you know, adventures in Romania to last a lifetime.” 

Colm's eyes had begun to dart around the room when Margo sat down. The situation was altogether new and he was unsure what to do. However when he heard that she worked with Dragons he turned and directly faced her. His eyes open wide. ''Dragons! You work with Dragons!'' He wondered why she had not said something when she had seen the book. He found that weird but forgot about it. Dragons! He loved Dragons. Unfortunately he had never had the privilege to work with them. He found them amazing. They had a bad reputation, burning down villages does that, but he thought that most of them were more or less safe; but Colm had a more liberal sense of that word than most people.

''Centaurs and Acromantula are...boring compared to Dragons.'' He smiled and placed his book back into his large pocket. Colm realised he had rather lost his cool when she had mentioned Dragons and he felt rather foolish. However Colm wanted to know more. And his curiosity was greater than his sense of embarrassment.

''So do you work with a certain breed of Dragon? Or is it just whatever comes around?'' He asked as he began to fiddle with his ring once more. Colm wished that the music was a bit quiter. If he was alone he would of cast a spell around the table that stopped sound entering. Putting an end to that disaster that people called music. But he didn't want to seem any stranger than he already did. And it would of been rather rude if Margo was, somehow, enjoying the loud banging.

Colm saw that, for a woman, Margo was rather tall. Infact she was taller than his brother. She seemed to have an almost boyish figure about her but overall Colm thought she was attractive. However he pushed all that from his head as he waited for her answer.

Margo was appropriately shocked when his excitement seemed to come out like the flood after a dam broke.  Wow.  That was one enthusiastic person!  Well, it could be worse, she supposed.  He could be boring. She so hated boring people.  If they weren’t giving her anything to work with, she didn’t want to be around them.  She supposed that was why she kept even the most annoying of her acquaintances around – they gave rise to something. 

So he finally started to talk and he was slightly less boring than before – being excited made a world of difference, and for some reason, there was some kind of childish fascination he had – youth in age, she supposed, or whatever some wise person might think. She just boiled it down to dragons are the coolest, and anyone really would want to know about them. 

“Used to work with them,” Margo corrected, “directly anyway,” she added.  “Started with Welsh Greens, then moved on to Hungarian Horntails in the mountain reserve in Romania.”  She was naturally loud, so talking above the music wasn’t really a problem for her.  Plus, she liked these sorts of places- it was pulsing, almost with a life of its own.  Margo liked that the bass matched her heartbeat at some points, and all the sounds of people having fun – it was like music to her ears. 

“For now though, I work with people who work with dragons.  Bit of a sticky situation last year,” understatement of the year, she thought as she reached down to touch her leg – almost to scratch, but then realized the phantom limb symptoms still hadn’t really gone away fully.  She wrinkled her nose briefly and shrugged.  “But it was good while it lasted.   Did plenty of research, enough to last a lifetime, I think,” she smirked. 

“What about Centaurs? They’re not known for their… kindly ways.”  That was, perhaps, the best way to put it - since, you know, they didn't really appreciate witches and wizards at all.