A drunk should be in a bar, really. It's just the safest place for them in a city. Of course, the bar has it's dangers, but they're no where near as bad as outside where the lights are almost non-existant and there's no bartender to make sure it doesn't get too nasty
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As it is, she's in (furry) red robes and is very much apple-cheeked.
"...oh, for the love of Merlin." Had someone turned her doorknob into a portkey?
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"Merlin? Knew him in college."
Then he flops back down.
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Then she arches a bar at the man. "I'm sure."
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She gives him a puzzled glance and wanders over to the bar, hopping up onto one of the stools and giving it a little spin.
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"Yeah, you know, that thing that you stick into computers to make them do shiny things?"
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So this was a muggle bar, then. Well, that made the whole 'crack' about Merlin clear ... nobody at home would do that.
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He wants to look at her. So much about who he was and what he was about had to do with looking people in the face. But right now, he can't.
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"No. I've never seen a computer." She could tell him that - she just couldn't tell him why.
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"Have you been living under a rock for the last fifteen years?"
He snorts.
"Not that I don't largely think that they're the tools of the devil, but that's coming from someone who's done up his walls in bookshelves."
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"'Kon-pu-ta' was invented in 1962?"
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"I do not know what it is."
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He closes his eyes and leans on the bar.
"No, sorry, I can't do this right now."
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"I dinnae think it'll do me much good anyway." She flashes him an apologetic smile - or she would be if he looked.
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"Why's that? Why would not knowing about a basic part of modern life not do much good?"
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