Pat met her comically wrinkled nose with a quiet laugh. He held up his glass, nodding toward her own much more intricately garnished drink with something that playfully bordered on disdain.
"You get points for going the more nutritional route, but this stuff-" He swirled the amber liquid around for emphasis. "-is pure medicine."
"I didn't eat all that much for breakfast-" she defended, before pulling the celery from the glass and pointing it at him. "I've got to try and counteract all the drinking I did last night in some way-"
She nearly winced when she thought about the near three bottles of champagne she finished all on her own.
"What exactly are you trying to cure, then?" she asked, hitching an eyebrow.
"The hangover from hell, apparently," Patrick admitted before he could really stop himself. It was hardly professional to be discussing his own state of overindulgant misery with a client, but, well, it was early morning on New Year's Day, the place was empty, and she seemed relatively harmless, if not just downright adorable.
"Happy New Year, and all that?" he tipped his glass again, downing the rest of drink and reaching for the Jameson for a refill.
"I managed to celebrate at the most dysfunctional New Year's Eve party I might have ever attended," she said, giving her shoulders a little shrug before she took a crunchy bite of her celery.
She wasn't even sure she liked the vegetable all that much but it was there and she was hungry and it was completely inappropriate to order fried bar food before the kitchen even opened. And she was yet to be at that level of cranky- especially considering another glance at her bartender put her in a better mood.
"It was your typical evening of drama and hook-ups and lamps exploding?" she trailed off, her brow furrowing.
"Drama and hookups, I get. But exploding lamps might take the cake as far as dysfunctionality goes," Pat commented with a raised eyebrow.
He could hardly imagine what types of circles this one ran in that her friends went about smashing (blowing up?) small appliances, but perhaps there was more fire to her than the cuteness of her bleary morning look gave away-
He caught his train of thought then, a small frown tugging at his eyebrows. Mind yourself, Callaghan, he thought, looking down at his drink. Clearly he was getting too old to be dealing with the mind-muddling brought on by hangovers-
She stuck the half-eaten celery back into the glass, taking another sip from the tomato-infused concoction as she looked up at him. There was hardly a better place for her to be right now, a Bloody Mary in her hands and a rather handsome bartender standing across from her. If there was anything to distract her from everything else going on in her life, it was this.
"Yeah, you know, sometimes tempers get the better of people," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "You know what's worse?"
He rubbed a hand over his eyes and leaned against his side of the bar (bloody hell when had standing become such a pain, he really was getting too old to deal with all of this) playing with the glass between his hands.
"I can't imagine, but do tell," he urged, an amused grin pulling at his lips despite the pounding that flared behind his eyes.
She didn't quite realize how massive he was until he leaned down against the bar, his height still seemingly incredible against her own tiny one (even if she was propped up on a tall stool). Still, she propped her elbow on the counter and leaned a bit closer toward him.
"I kissed someone last night-" she said, a playful gleam behind her eyes. "And you know why? Because he'd never kissed anyone before-"
Pat's eyebrow properly shot up, an actual feeling of curious interest sparking up in him, strangely invested as he had suddenly gotten in this conversation. He shot another look down the empty bar - what the hell, he clearly had nothing better to do.
"You're kidding. As in- no one, ever?" He paused, another thought, weirdly drilled into him by years of checking IDs, crossing his mind. "This was someone of age, I'm assuming?"
Pat couldn't help the blatant, confused disbelief that fell across his face. "Twenty-five? And not even a kiss- bloody hell, that means- poor guy, how has he managed?"
It wasn't like he had a mile-long list of conquests of his own (he'd been around a bit, but between two long-termish relationships and a few one night stands, his numbers were relatively average for a guy his age), but by twenty-five he'd gone around the bases a good many times.
Trying to figure out Neville was something she didn't have the time or patience to do. He was a tricky sort of bloke and one that was constantly throwing her for a loop. Still, it hadn't been bad for a first one.
"He's an odd fellow-" she said, but she paused when she took in the look of disbelief. "When was your first kiss, hm?"
Patrick at least had the decency to look a bit sheepish about his incredulousness. He was hardly any kind of sex-crazed machine, but, well, twenty-five years without even a kiss? He wasn't sure whether the kid deserved pity or some kind of award...
He scratched at the back of his head, grinning despite himself at question. "Aah- first real one- twelve, I suppose-" He laughed, thinking back to his little (well, as little as he'd ever been, really) pre-teen self and the nervous jitters he'd had for weeks leading up to the actual event - Aisling O'Hara, a proper ginger Irish princess, she'd been. He had run into her by chance a few years later, and they'd made quite a night of building on that first round of nerves and fumbling, inexperienced lips...
"How 'bout you, then? It's only fair to compare at this point-"
"Technically, the first time my lips connected with a bloke's, I was eight years old and I tackled Johnny Watburn on the playground because he stole the football-"
She couldn't help but grin at that odd little memory, her time at Muggle school a weird blip in her mind. She had her moments, though, where things were clear- most specifically that day. She had been suspended for half a day- Johnny kicked her in the shins and she retaliated with a swift kick to the- well, anyway. Instead of a punishment, her father had taken her for ice cream.
She laughed.
"But my first real kiss? I was fourteen and it was during a ball at school. His name was Brady Walker and he was the cutest boy I had ever seen."
Pat laughed at the first half of her little anecdote. Yes, come to think of it, while she initially came off as adorable and pixy-like, there was definitely a fiesty spark to her that would have had her tackling boys in grade school-
He playfulled clicked his tongue, leaning his elbows against the bar and raising a teasing eyebrow at her. "The cutest boy at a school ball. Perfect fairytale story, was it."
She couldn't help but take in the sight of his arms, his muscles tugging at the fabric of his shirt. She chewed on the inside of her cheek before raising her eyes to meet his, a playful grin of her own.
"That was until a teacher came around the corner and we fell in the bushes to hide-" she said, grinning widely. "I had scratches all up and down my arms. Looked like I got into a bloody fight-"
"You get points for going the more nutritional route, but this stuff-" He swirled the amber liquid around for emphasis. "-is pure medicine."
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She nearly winced when she thought about the near three bottles of champagne she finished all on her own.
"What exactly are you trying to cure, then?" she asked, hitching an eyebrow.
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"Happy New Year, and all that?" he tipped his glass again, downing the rest of drink and reaching for the Jameson for a refill.
"I'll assume you celebrated in style as well?"
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She wasn't even sure she liked the vegetable all that much but it was there and she was hungry and it was completely inappropriate to order fried bar food before the kitchen even opened. And she was yet to be at that level of cranky- especially considering another glance at her bartender put her in a better mood.
"It was your typical evening of drama and hook-ups and lamps exploding?" she trailed off, her brow furrowing.
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He could hardly imagine what types of circles this one ran in that her friends went about smashing (blowing up?) small appliances, but perhaps there was more fire to her than the cuteness of her bleary morning look gave away-
He caught his train of thought then, a small frown tugging at his eyebrows. Mind yourself, Callaghan, he thought, looking down at his drink. Clearly he was getting too old to be dealing with the mind-muddling brought on by hangovers-
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"Yeah, you know, sometimes tempers get the better of people," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "You know what's worse?"
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"I can't imagine, but do tell," he urged, an amused grin pulling at his lips despite the pounding that flared behind his eyes.
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"I kissed someone last night-" she said, a playful gleam behind her eyes. "And you know why? Because he'd never kissed anyone before-"
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"You're kidding. As in- no one, ever?" He paused, another thought, weirdly drilled into him by years of checking IDs, crossing his mind. "This was someone of age, I'm assuming?"
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"Of course he was," she said, shaking her head. "What kind of woman do you take me for?"
She took a sip from her drink before grinning.
"Can you imagine being a twenty-five year old bloke without ever having kissed someone?"
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It wasn't like he had a mile-long list of conquests of his own (he'd been around a bit, but between two long-termish relationships and a few one night stands, his numbers were relatively average for a guy his age), but by twenty-five he'd gone around the bases a good many times.
"Christ, what's he been waiting for?"
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Trying to figure out Neville was something she didn't have the time or patience to do. He was a tricky sort of bloke and one that was constantly throwing her for a loop. Still, it hadn't been bad for a first one.
"He's an odd fellow-" she said, but she paused when she took in the look of disbelief. "When was your first kiss, hm?"
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He scratched at the back of his head, grinning despite himself at question. "Aah- first real one- twelve, I suppose-" He laughed, thinking back to his little (well, as little as he'd ever been, really) pre-teen self and the nervous jitters he'd had for weeks leading up to the actual event - Aisling O'Hara, a proper ginger Irish princess, she'd been. He had run into her by chance a few years later, and they'd made quite a night of building on that first round of nerves and fumbling, inexperienced lips...
"How 'bout you, then? It's only fair to compare at this point-"
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She couldn't help but grin at that odd little memory, her time at Muggle school a weird blip in her mind. She had her moments, though, where things were clear- most specifically that day. She had been suspended for half a day- Johnny kicked her in the shins and she retaliated with a swift kick to the- well, anyway. Instead of a punishment, her father had taken her for ice cream.
She laughed.
"But my first real kiss? I was fourteen and it was during a ball at school. His name was Brady Walker and he was the cutest boy I had ever seen."
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He playfulled clicked his tongue, leaning his elbows against the bar and raising a teasing eyebrow at her. "The cutest boy at a school ball. Perfect fairytale story, was it."
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"That was until a teacher came around the corner and we fell in the bushes to hide-" she said, grinning widely. "I had scratches all up and down my arms. Looked like I got into a bloody fight-"
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