Future AU -- Naia and Nico, Order Recruitment
Naia Bergren, who had only returned from the States a month ago, had regained full use of her British accent but still occassionally used American Muggle words that confounded her coworkers in a similar effect to the charm. This was the end of the first full, stressful week as her starting job as an administrate assistant to the Minister of Magical
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Why not take advantage of the locality for the meeting while he was here? He turned to the walk towards the bar and saw colour, actual colour. The clothing was dull, lifeless, likely the result of some business place or another. Hair was an entirely different matter, and this woman's was vibrant. So many had stopped wearing noticable colours because of the war, and those naturally red (or those who dyed their hair flurescent colours) had adopted earth tones, camoflage, armour. Anything that the human eye was drawn to was something that a wand could be pointed at.
Nico slipped onto a stool beside the beacon. People who were colourful were people to be wary of, it meant that they may not have reason to fear. "An ale," Nico called the bartender. Unfortunately the person beside him was in precicely the wrong place to be covered by his peripheral vision. Oh well, he would have the chance eventually.
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"An Ale," said a male voice. Naia looked up, and then away, embarrassed. She shouldn't snoop, but at the same time she always liked to watch people. As she looked away she frowned, and looked back. He looked familiar. She moved so that she could see him better, and studied him. She almost had it, she... could almost remember.
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It did however, allow him to get a slight glance of her face out of the corner of his eye as he stared directly at the bartender. She seemed innoent enough, and perhaps had a face for forgetting if it wasn't for her hair, or perhaps it was that her hair overshadowed her facial features. Either way, Nico tried to play the amicable stranger. "Sorry, is this seat taken?" he asked. "I could move if you're waiting for someone." He turned to smile at her, and was surprised to find that she looked familiar.
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Couldn't be. The thought of Nico made her grin lopsidedly. She didn't get to know him until his seventh year, and then only as in a mentor/mentee relationship... but he complimented her, told her she was pretty, and trusted her. Perhaps it was the trust that was the most worthy of her fond memory. He was a pretty good leader, at least from the 14-year-old view point -- and he taught her a lot.
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"What are you doing here, anyway?" Here? "This bar, Britain, England, you know... when did you get back? Last I heard, you were prancing around in America." She was safe, that's what she was. Nico had been so tempted over the years to ship Theophania to Antarctica and ensure that she was safe. As far as Nicodemus was concerned, Naia going to the United States was a pretty clever move on her behalf.
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Obviously Nico didn't want to speak with her for whatever reason. "I don't know any Joseph," she said. "My mistake." She sighed, looked down at her drink (which was still half full) and pounded it back. She climbed down off the bar stool, stumbled slightly when bending to pick up her bag (as wizarding alcohol was always more potent), and proceeded to walk out of the door.
If he wanted to talk to her, he would follow. If not, it was better not to get involved with his schemes. In school, the Knight Lights had been a brilliant idea and it certainly had saved lives over the years, but there had been close calls, too. Naia didn't want to be one of those close calls.
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He sculled his own drink and shrugged at the bartender, "women," he chuckled softly, before he tossed the bartended a tip and walked out of the bar. Dammit, where was she? She hadn't apparated away, had she? Nico looked for any flash of red but it was terribly dark.
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"Joseph," she said, raising an eyebrow and tapping his shoulder. "Pleased to make your aquaintence."
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Nico spun around and looked Naia over. Of course she was smart, smart enough to know that Nicodemus Florentine was not indeed called Joseph Mullaney. What kind of conclusion had she jumped to in the bar, for her to react that way?
No one had followed him from the bar, and his portable wards didn't detect listening charms. "Nico," he corrected. "Naia, I would love to catch up but we have to get away from here. It's dangerous for the both of us to hang around, not when you let my name drop."
Not to mention that Nico would never be able to use this bar as a meeting place again. That was certainly some ouch, but Naia wasn't to be blamed. Nico slipped her a grin to let her know that he didn't mind.
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Naia knew that her cousins, braver souls than hers, were deeply and irrevocably intertwined with the craziness that was this war -- certainly in ways that were extralegal. Naia wanted to use the system to change it... and that's what she was doing back in England.
"How are we getting where we're going?" She stepped closer to him. "How good are you at Apparation? How about riding a broom with a passenger?" She smirked again, but this time it was the smirk of a woman who had, perhaps, drunk her whiskey a bit too fast.
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