She was being paranoid, she knew. For nearly a month, she'd felt as if everyone that looked her way knew who she was, knew she was related to one of those people involved in the attack. Her parents had owled her, too many times for her to count, asking her to come home, to stay out of trouble. They told her that they couldn't lose her, and that it would be safer at home. And for the first time, she'd owled them back, asking only one question from them. Had Olivia been safe while she lived at home, stayed out of trouble, never did anything wrong?
She'd written until her fingers had felt numb, had stared at her feelings made real, and she debated on whether she should actually send it or not. Some part of her was thinking of it as a good-bye. And if her parents knew anything about her, they would recognize it as one. And leave her alone.
Hence her decision to drink to a stupor publicly, rather than her usual private morose drink. And there was nothing like hearing people talk about things they didn't know to help her mood.
Tonks noticed a young woman sitting on her own with a look about her of someone drinking for distraction. She wasn't someone Tonks had seen in here before, but she did look vaguely familiar.
"Honestly, sometimes I wish there'd be a new scandal just so the regulars would have something else to talk about. It's the same thing every night, would you believe." She gave Angelina a friendly smile as she picked up her empty glass. "Get you another drink, miss?"
Angelina looked up, only slightly startled that she was being spoken to. She tried to smile back at the woman, but she knew it came off somewhat weak. Not too surprising, considering the hell she was living in lately.
"I think I can believe it. And another sounds great."
She went back to work, clearing a couple other tables before fetching another drink for the young woman. She was curious about her, the fake smile and slight edginess hiding unease and despair. Tonks sympathized, that was how she felt a lot of the time herself.
She returned to Angelina with a fresh drink and more good natured chatter. The idle gossip of the pub gave her a chance to be nosy.
"Here you go love. Let me know if you need anything else - you look like you have a rough day. Trouble with a bloke? If some wanker stood you up we've got everything you need to send a howler tucked behind the bar."
The thin, tall double doors of the pub opened a crack, admitting a lumpy man in a large cloak - an old W.W.W. Holocaust Cloak if you bothered to check the tag - who seemed to mumble incessantly. This, it seemed, was not too very out of the ordinary. And even if it were, the vast majority of the pub's patrons knew better than to ask questions, even privately. Questions got you questioned
( ... )
She glared at the new arrival. Whether it was "Joanna" glaring at a disruptive customer or Tonks herself glaring at a disruptive friend was hard to tell, even for her
( ... )
Something like "Nyes" escaped the confines of the hood, which has formed a rough seal against the slick (but clean) surface of the bar. A second later, "noty'rbusiness". And then, as Johanna (she was clearly a Johanna. Or a Stephanie. She had a Stephanie voice.)clinked the glass against the bar, his head rose by degrees (his hood making a soft popping sound as it separated from it's friend, the wood) 'till his face was all silly-looking shadows cast at awkward angles and unshaven chin. Johanna's (Stephanie's?) critical glare made him pause a moment, and his sodden half-grin disappeared. His eyes were oddly clear. "Yesserday... Day before yesser... yesterday was my birthday. 'm 28. d'ja know that dragons? Dragons hit puberty at 28. D'ja know? 's true. I wrote 'bout it an' it was published an' I got a prize. Wanna see? Nymphie says it's compen... compensatin'... compensation. D'you know her? She's real pretty when she's not tryin' to be pretty and she gets pink hair when I say that. You're pretty." He trailed off, and downed his drink
( ... )
There was no doubt that this was Charlie, only he could simultaneously be drunk, reckless, obnoxious, and utterly charming.
"You're drunk?" she said sarcastically, "I hadn't noticed."
He was in bad shape, but at least he was safe. For now. Her expression softened and she smiled at him.
"Can't say I've heard of anyone by that name around here." That much was true. Nymphie? No more vodka for you, Weasley. She took the empty glass and replaced it with a cup of coffee. Not the refill he was expecting, but hopefully he'd accept it. "Pink hair is pretty unusual too. I think people would notice that." She winked at him. "Do you think I'd look good with pink hair?"
It seemed to be pure luck that he'd stumbled into this bar. Or a miracle. What if he'd run into one of the enemy? The cloak covered him to an extent, and his hair was different so he might not have been recognized, but the way he was rambling who knew what he might accidentally admit.
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She'd written until her fingers had felt numb, had stared at her feelings made real, and she debated on whether she should actually send it or not. Some part of her was thinking of it as a good-bye. And if her parents knew anything about her, they would recognize it as one. And leave her alone.
Hence her decision to drink to a stupor publicly, rather than her usual private morose drink. And there was nothing like hearing people talk about things they didn't know to help her mood.
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"Honestly, sometimes I wish there'd be a new scandal just so the regulars would have something else to talk about. It's the same thing every night, would you believe." She gave Angelina a friendly smile as she picked up her empty glass. "Get you another drink, miss?"
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"I think I can believe it. And another sounds great."
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She returned to Angelina with a fresh drink and more good natured chatter. The idle gossip of the pub gave her a chance to be nosy.
"Here you go love. Let me know if you need anything else - you look like you have a rough day. Trouble with a bloke? If some wanker stood you up we've got everything you need to send a howler tucked behind the bar."
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"You're drunk?" she said sarcastically, "I hadn't noticed."
He was in bad shape, but at least he was safe. For now. Her expression softened and she smiled at him.
"Can't say I've heard of anyone by that name around here." That much was true. Nymphie? No more vodka for you, Weasley. She took the empty glass and replaced it with a cup of coffee. Not the refill he was expecting, but hopefully he'd accept it. "Pink hair is pretty unusual too. I think people would notice that." She winked at him. "Do you think I'd look good with pink hair?"
It seemed to be pure luck that he'd stumbled into this bar. Or a miracle. What if he'd run into one of the enemy? The cloak covered him to an extent, and his hair was different so he might not have been recognized, but the way he was rambling who knew what he might accidentally admit.
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