WHO: Scarlett and Grail
WHAT: A date at the pub!
WHEN: Oh, who knows.
STATUS: Finishing in comments!
Scarlett had come prepared to literally refresh Grail’s mind on the sport she loved so much. Quidditch was definitely something she could not talk to Devon about, not at length, and during the season Rafe Kirke was a stupidly strict maniac and it would be such blasphemy to speak with another player, from another team about the game. So she’d grown excited about the prospect to really go on about Quidditch and all the wonderful things it entailed. It didn’t occur to her until she was actually at his bar, brooms in tow, that maybe this wasn’t meant to be as serious of a quidditch talk as she’d imagined.
She tied up the broomsticks out front with the few others, nervous to leave them out there as she’d borrowed them from the Catapults’ own broom shed. The wards seemed secure in locking them in place, but the pub was...well she would not have frequented it on her own (or by herself) if she didn’t know Grail was working inside.
The smell of smoke hit her the second she stepped through the front door. Scarlett attempted to keep her expression straight, but she winced and took a seat at the end of the bar, not daring to go any deeper and ducking her head at the whistle let out by some bloke.. Her father would have a bloody fit if he could see where she was right now, but Scarlett pushed those thoughts away as she spotted Grail come out of a back room. Suddenly the smoke and the rather vulgar leers from the other ‘guests’ of the bar didn’t seem so hard to handle.
It was only a part time gig, but Grail enjoyed his work on the weekends far more than his 9-5 job at the ministry. Someone with his record normally wouldn’t have ever been considered for a government job, but he knew a guy who knew a guy; it helped him stay off the radar, seeing how people usually suspected he was up to no good based on appearances alone. They weren’t entirely wrong - or at least they hadn’t been a few years ago, back when he went out of his way looking for a fight, just for the thrill of it.
Counting up the last of his tips, Grail placed the bronze and silver coins into the pouch that was stored within the inside pocket of his jacket. Tying it back up, he slipped his arms into the sleeves of the faded green army jacket, adjusting the hood of his sweatshirt over the collar before placing the pouch back where it belonged.
Pulling open the door that lead back to the bar, he was stopped by a group of regulars who insisted he take a shot of the cheap firewhiskey they had been drinking since his shift started. Once his drink was poured, he lifted the shot glass before emptying the contents into his mouth, wincing at the familiar burn as it slid down his throat. They seemed pleased that he had participated, and tried to get him to do another, but it was then that he caught sight of Scarlett out of the corner of his eye. He had to do a double take, but once his eyes locked with hers, he found himself smirking, lifting a finger to let her know he’d be a moment, turning back to the obscenely drunk group of men.
“Sorry, gents. Afraid I have more important matters to attend to.”
He patted his hand down onto the shoulder of the man closest to him before walking away to approach Scarlett.
“Hey,” he offered, leaning in to greet her with a kiss to the cheek before pulling back. He tried to get a read on her expression, once again smirking at her. She looked out of place. “This isn’t exactly your scene, is it?”
“I don’t have much of a scene,” Scarlett admitted, a small smile on her face at his kind greeting. She had been pleasantly surprised with this budding relationship of sorts, and used that rare optimism to keep the desire to run out of here at a minimum.
Maybe she didn’t need to go for a fly. She liked Grail, especially proven that she wasn’t at the gym today, or on a jog, or at Devon’s house with her friend and the baby. To make Scarlett do something out of her regularly scheduled routine meant something, and she could acknowledge that. She liked it. Just sitting here for these few seconds already made her want to have more time spent with him, talking with him, and getting up on a broomstick would certainly hinder that. Though her broom stick was capable of being a two-seater.
“We can go for a fly,” she offered, trying to look neutral about the decision. She wanted to be neutral, she did have a desire to break out of her shell...but broomsticks. “Or we can give this new scene a shot. You choose”
Her admission caused his brows to furrow together, lifting one of his arms in order to rest his elbow against the bar top, not yet taking a seat on the stool beside her in case they weren't going to be staying long. It did, however, give him an opportunity to be closer to her which he certainly didn't mind. "A girl without a scene," he repeated the scenario back to her, shaking his head. "I don't much like the sound of that. Everyone has a scene; some people just haven't found theirs yet."
He couldn't understand how she hadn't found hers yet, if he had to be honest with himself. She was...well, she was gorgeous, and she had a career that most people envied; that meant she had money, which in turn meant that she could probably do anything she wanted, or go anywhere she wanted to go. Grail had been making ends meet since he had been freed from having to live under the same roof as the man and woman who insisted on being called 'Mom' and 'Dad'. They had never felt like family, which made it easy for him to turn his back on them when he was 16. They were dead to him the second he had walked out that door...
Her suggestion made him blink, unsure of whether she was being serious or not. "You want-...you want to fly?" He questioned, brows lifting slightly with surprise. He let out a chortle before lifting one of his hands to rub at the scruff on his jaw. "I haven't flown since Hogwarts," he admitted, dropping his hand back down. "Maybe we can compromise? We stay here for a little longer, I buy you a drink, and you explain the rules of the game. Then, once I feel I have a better understanding of how things work we can see just how good've a teacher you actually are."
She could accept that. Scarlett straightened her shoulders, an almost purr of pleasure humming up her throat as she agreed to his terms. Though, she would have to make quidditch on the ground (and in a bar) interesting, which might prove a challenge.
“All right, then,” she said, grabbing onto the seat of her stool to scoot herself closer to the bar. Scarlett grinned a little too mischieviously and cleared the counter in front of her. She didn’t often show off her tricks, but she wasn’t only here to refresh Grail’s mind. Impressing him was another goal, and she was rather keen on doing it in ways other than snogging and batting her eyelashes.
As an only child and a rather sheltered one at that, Scarlett had often kept to herself. At home, at school (she and Devon had become closer friends later on in their Hogwarts career), she’d spent many days and nights working on her skills, quidditch and magic. With a flick of her wrist, Scarlett curled her fingers and summoned three cherries from a bowl on the other side of the bar. Two lime wedges and a lemon quickly followed, and her little show of wandless magic was over in a few quick seconds. She couldn’t perform very powerful spells without her wand, but little things like summons objects across rooms and other ‘parlour tricks’ her dad liked to call them. Her father had always reckoned she’d be good in a muggle magic show, but she’d never bothered to find out what that exactly entailed.
“So, we start with the three chasers...” she said,putting her hand over the cherries and they floated under her fingers like puppets with no strings.
Once they were in agreement on everything, Grail lifted himself up onto the stool that was behind him, turning towards the bartender to order them both something to drink. He still had no idea what she liked, so he played it safe by ordering a couple of beers. He could tell that she wasn't a frequent drinker by the way the one rum and coke she had at the charity gala had hit her in an instant, but it had also helped her loosen up a considerable amount. She was wound tight when he had first approached her at the top of the staircase that night, as though they were being pushed into an arranged marriage. She seemed much more comfortable around him now, even without having any alcohol in her system, but he figured sipping at a few beers certainly wouldn't hurt matters.
Her little show caused him to flash her a crooked smile, his body turned towards her on the stool in order to give his full attention to the demonstration. She was definitely unlike any other girl he had been set up with before, though that was usually because he had people like Darren introducing him to women who were willing to throw themselves at the nearest person with a pulse. He didn't know what to expect when Devon had told him she wanted him to meet her friend, though admittedly he was worried. He didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to relationships, so it wasn't like he was the most reliable person to introduce someone to, but the redhead clearly knew something he didn't.
"And what do they do?" He inquired, though he already knew the answer. Truth be told, he did know a few things about the game, but she seemed to be getting so much enjoyment out of telling him about the sport, so he'd let her carry on.
