“And that’s how I pulled my first prank. Her teeth were blue for the rest of the evening. Mum was a but mad, but Avery did think it was funny after a while,” laughs Tommy Fallon. The two have been walking for a little while now, but as there is not much of an incline in the path, it is not exceedingly tiring- nor is the pace of their walking. Sauntering, actually, better describes their movement down the rocky path. “So, Eva,” he starts again. Deciding childhood is a good topic to discuss lightly (what, with their expecting a child,) he asks, “what types of things did you like as a kid?”

Eva laughs a bit. “I was a good child, really I was.” Sensing that Tommy does not quite believe this assertion, however, Eva amends her statement. “Well, actually, I suppose I was a bit of a terror for Basil. He’s always been a bit of a stick-in-the-mud, and he wasn’t any less of one when we were children.” Eva grins as she thinks of her childhood. “Jared, Gilbert and Freddie were enablers, though, so I rarely got into troubles for the pranks that were, I admit, largely my idea.” A snicker emits from the woman as she recounts this time in her life and grins to her walking companion.

Nudging her playfully and slightly in the ribs, Tommy mirrors her smirk as he looks back at her. “I’ll /bet/ you did, little sneak,” he says with a laugh, the inflection in his voice raising slightly higher than usual. “While I /was/ to blame for the grand majority of the things that happened at home before Hogwarts, I also took the fall for anything Kalika managed,” he says in a mock-bitter tone. He shrugs. “With parents like us…” he trails off, not really knowing if the topic of their own child will be an uncomfortable or awkward one. He hopes not. “Well, we might be in for a long haul with this one,” he says, palming her stomach for a moment before withdrawing.

Eva Wexler‘s heart seems to skip a beat as he mentions them as parents… together. Arnauld is involved enough, she thinks, but Tommy seems to want to /be/ there. Just… be there. She smiles at him, as if suddenly shy, and her pace slows as his hand touches her stomach. Her own hands instinctively caress her unnoticable bump and she relaxes just a little, coming to a stop. “I imagine the child will be a holy terror. Although, with Avery’s influence, maybe he’ll stand a chance.” Eva seems to have decided that this one will be a boy. She looks up at him and her eyes seem to glow with happiness. Is she even ready to settle down yet? Tommy seems to make her /want/ to.

“Oh, he will stand a chance?” Tommy repeats as a question. “It’s a boy, then…” he states, screwing up his face a bit as he stares at her stomach as if he’d be able to tell. “Are you, err, carrying differently than last time?” he asks. Pregnancy… he was rather clueless about it, truth be told. Thieras, obviously, took care of Avery while she was. Although, he did remember her saying that she knew she was carrying differently the second one, but it was understood later when she bore twins. “Yes, then. A girl would be even more trouble. She’d look like you,” he says, tweaking her nose gently with his index finger, “be beautiful like you… and she’d be a child /terror/ like me. And no one would be able to put her straight because she would be too cute,” he laughs.”

Eva blushes a bit and puts a hand on her cheek, leaning on a tree. “A terror perhaps,” she agrees. “But who knows. Gabriel is adorable, and with Avery helping out so much, I imagine she’d have good influence on him.” Eva seems stuck on the boy pronoun for now. She smiles up at him, comfortably lounging against the tree for now. He looks so handsome this evening, she decides. Her little heart is fluttering like it did in her sixth year when Alden Mayweather cornered her after a quidditch game near the pitch. Except… somehow this is different. Perhaps it is the setting sun, or the fact that she is carrying Tommy’s child, but she can’t seem to get any more words out of her mouth right now. All she can do is grin up at him.

Tommy Fallon nods in response to what Eva’s said. He has admired in Avery (and Thieras, too) the ability to raise children. In this way, he feels like he has a lot to live up to. And he hopes he can do it, because to be honest, the whole idea of him being responsible for something so tiny and helpless makes him weak in the knees with terror and excitement. Staring into Eva’s eyes, he smiles, too. Stepping in front of her, he raises a hand and brushes her cheek with his fingertips without saying anything. Does it really need any elaboration?

“Hi,” Eva whispers quietly, her cheek tingling as his fingers run across the skin. She covers his hand with hers and leans forward, pressing her lips against his gently as she rises to her tiptoes. After all, she’s a good seven or eight inches shorter than he is. Her body pressed up against his, reveling in the warmth and strength she feels emanating from him, Eva lets her other hand rest on his chest daintily, just… being with him.

Although Tommy is not really surprised by the kiss (sunset, solitude; was there anything more perfect?), his pounding heart might seem to suggest so. He sets his free hand on her waist, drawing her in close. Basking in the moment, he decides that at long last, after so long, he is happy in this instant. As the kiss ends after a time, he pulls her into a hug, holding the back of her head. Whatever this child entailed; whatever challenges they had to face, they could do it together. It seems clich, even as he thinks about it now, but alas, doesn’t everything in love until it happens to you? Tommy Fallon wishes he could stay with Eva for ever here.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Eva leans back against the tree, leaning her cheek against his for a moment. “I love you,” she whispers bravely, and then drops her feet flat, resting her cheek on his chest. Her heart beats madly as she realizes that she really does. No response is needed, as she isn’t sure she would know how to respond. She just lets the steady beating of his heart calm her as she hugs him, holds onto him, not wanting the moment to end. It’s just Tommy and her, just like this, forever and ever, basking in the sunset.

Henrietta Blume is sitting on one of the leather seats in the compartment closest to the window. She turns to Frederick, seated on her right, and says, “So, where are we going again? I don’t think I heard you the first time.”

Frederick Wexler casually slips his arm around Henrietta’s waist. “We’re going swimming!” he answers her gleefully. “In Brighton. I hear they’ve got some good bathing areas.” He pauses. “I hope they do. Otherwise, I’m not sure what I’ll do with these.” He brandishes a swimsuit for each of them, one in a rather bright shade of purple for her, and a matching one — minus ruffle — for himself in dark blue. “It just seemed like the right thing to do this weekend.” He beams down at her proudly. Of course she’ll like it! All his ideas are good! … aren’t they?

Henrietta Blume snuggles against Freddie as he slips his arm around her waist. “Are we really going swimming? It’s been ages since I’ve been swimming. Mum was always afraid of the water. Thought we would drown or something.” As he pulls out the swimsuits, she giggles with glee, exclaiming, “Oh, they are so cute. How did you know that I love purple? This is going to be such a fun weekend! I can’t wait until we get there.” She lays her head against his shoulder and looks out the window at the passing countryside.

“Of course I knew you love purple, darling!” Freddie fibs a little and cuddles her close. God, he’s lucky. He gazes out the window with her. “Hey, isn’t that … oh, whose house is that.” He pauses in thought, apparently at a loss for the real name of the person who belongs to said cottage. “We’ll tell your mum after we get back that you managed to go swimming and didn’t even drown.” He winks down at her playfully. Frederick Wexler can’t help but think that he must be the luckiest guy in the world.

Henrietta Blume cuddles closer to him and says, “Oh, how could I forget that you already knew that? I’m so forgetful sometimes.” Looking at the house he pointed out, she replies, “Oh, that is a very pretty house, whoever’s it is. I think I’d love living there. Everything is so beautiful in the country.” Giggling at the comment about her mother, she says, “I think she might bap you upside the head for teasing her about it. She’s a worrier; it comes with the trade I suppose.”

Frederick Wexler hmms a moment. “I suppose it is. Mum is always worrying about Eva.” He pauses. “Of course, Eva gives her reason to worry.” He chuckles and kisses Henri’s temple discreetly, thankful that the train isn’t so packed that they have to share a compartment. At least not for now. “Oh! I’ve got it! It’s the Alden’s house! You remember Celeste Alden?” He chuckles. Ah, his memory isn’t so bad as all that after all.

“Oh, Eva. She’s quite a character. I like her, though. Maybe we could pay her a visit after our swimming excursion.” Henrietta blushes a little as he kisses her and looks around quickly, just to make sure they are alone. “You know, I still freak out every time you do that. I half expect some old woman to pop up and shake her finger at us.” She giggles a little at her own paranoia. “Hm, Celeste Alden… the name sounds slightly familiar. Was she in our year?”

Frederick Wexler nods. “She was in Gryffindor, though. Rather shy girl, for a Gryffindor. I never did understand that. I thought all Gryffindors were supposed to be the brave folks who were always up for an adventure. She never was. Eva seemed to frigthen her.” He chuckles and leans down close to her ear. “You really needn’t worry about that. I wouldn’t do it to where we’d get into trouble.” A pause. “At least, not again. I learned that after that time at the Opera.” He suppresses a bit of a snicker-slash-giggle and coughs to compose himself again. The train comes to a stop and he looks around happily, standing up. He takes hold of Henrietta’s hand and looks around, clutching the swimwear tightly, as if they’re the most important things he’s had in a long time. He leads her off of the train into the unusually bright, sunny sky in Brighton. Ah, a perfect day.

“Hmm, yes, I think I remember her a little. But, I was rather shy at Hogwarts too, so we never really crossed paths.” Henrietta shrugs a bit at the comment about Gryffindors. She blushes uncontrollably as he whispers in her ear. “Oh, please don’t bring up the Opera; I thought I would never be able to show my face in public again. And you weren’t any help,” she adds playfully, punching him gently in the arm. “Oh, look, we’re here.” She stands up and takes his hand, following him off the train. “It’s such a pretty day. Perfect for swimming.”

Nodding, he steps out into the broad sunshine amids all the other wizards, in various states of dress — some in their swimming suits, and some still in robes, others looking decidedly outlandish in their muggle gear. Frederick Wexler chuckles and looks around. “Oh, look, some dressing tents,” he comments and starts strolling over there. By now, he’s learned not to walk too quickly so as not to leave her behind. He separates the suits as they reach the tents and hands the purple one to Henrietta. “See you in a few moments,” he tells her and glances around. Alright, no dangerous antics this time.

Henrietta Blume takes her suit from Fredderick, saying, “Okay then, I’ll see you shortly.” She gives him a quick smile before heading into the nearest dressing tent and closing the curtain behind her. She emerges a few minutes later, now wearing her purple suit. “Tada!”

Frederick Wexler goes into his own tent — the green one, wahoo — and puts on his suit anxiously. In the pocket, in the pocket, in the pocket. He breathes in deeply and emerges as he sees Henrietta coming out. He has his robes draped over his arm, and drops them with glee, holding her hand over her head to twirl her around. “It’s a lovely color on you,” He tells her, absolutely beaming. “Shall we go into the water?” The waves wash up on the shore gently, sparkling in the bright sunshine. The water is a grayish blue, and Freddie is quite thrilled to get to romp in it.

Henrietta Blume twirls around for him, and then says, “Oh, I love it so much. It’s just so cute. And look, it even has this cute little pocket. I could store something important in there.” She points to the pocket, but doesn’t actually look in it. To his question, she responds, “Yes, let’s get in the water. I hope it’s cool; all this changing and twirling has made me rather hot.” She takes his hand and pulls him towards the water. “Alright, in we go!”

Frederick Wexler reaches out with one of his other hands and flips her ruffle. “That’s awfully cute,” he tells her, a little smirk on his face, willing her to put her hand into her pocket. After all, he isn’t sure how well such a small article will stay in said pocket. Ah, well. He won’t stress about it. “I wonder if you could put a charm on the pocket to prevent things from falling out.” A pause. “After all, it doesn’t look very secure.” He tries not to look anxious or at all like he’s anticipating something.

Henrietta Blume looks again toward her pocket. “Hmm, I don’t know. I’m sure it’s fine. See, look, it’s very tight… hmm, what is this?” As she was pulling at the pocket to demonstrate it’s effectiveness, she noticed a bump in pocket and started pulling it out. “Hmm, it feels round… Oh, my, it’s ring! Where did you buy this swimsuit, Freddie, it has a ring in it!” She gives him a playful look, and then it clicks. “Oh, my, is this what I think it is?”

Frederick Wexler bites his lip, looking down at her. “It could be?” he answers, his voice cracking a bit, sounding rather hopeful. Damnit, he told himself he would be cool about this! He clears his throat and shifts his weight from one foot to the other, scratching his head with his free hand, still clutching hers, perhaps a bit tighter than necessary.

Henrietta Blume squeels with excitement. “Oh, Freddie! Yes, of course I’ll marry you! Oh, wait, was I supposed to let you ask first? I just couldn’t wait. Oh, Freddie!” She wraps her arms around him and gives him a huge hug. “Oh, this ring is just soo beautiful. I’m so happy. We’re getting married!”

Frederick Wexler beams with absolute joy and hoists her up. He spins around in a circle, and then again before setting her down. “You have just made me the happiest person who ever lived,” he whispers. He detatches himself from her and takes the ring, sliding it slowly onto her finger. “Practice for later,” he tells her with a wide grin. “Now, when we go tell your mother that you didn’t drown, we can tell her something else, too.” He smiles a genuine smile, full of excitement. And, though he has tried to contain himself, he finds that he just can’t, and leans down, planting his lips squarely on hers.

Henrietta says, “Oh, I think we’re tied for happiest person ever.” Henrietta whispers back at him. As he slides the ring on her finger, she giggle just a little. “Oh, this is so wonderful. I love you so much! I wish we could get married right now.” At the mention of her mother, she adds, “Oh, yes, we will definitely have something else to tell her. She will be so happy; she’s been so afraid that the twins would both be married before me, which would be a trajedy, I’m sure.” Although she wasn’t expecting it, she happily returns his kiss.”

Frederick Wexler beams. “I love you so so much,” he tells her gleefully. “I’m going to marry this woman!” he shouts for all to hear. He really is quite shameless. Some weak applause echoes and he kisses her cheek. “Let’s go swimming.” He practically skips towards the water, Henrietta’s hand grasped, once again, in his own. The glitter on her left hand, though, makes him puff up with joy as he splashes ankle deep into the chilly water.

Henrietta Blume runs alongside him to the water. “Oh, somehow swimming has never seemed more wonderful.” She kicks her feet up a bit, trying to splash him. “You’re such a trickster, putting it in my pocket. You never can do anything the average way, can you?” She flashes him a teasing smile, and then pulls him deeper into the water.

“What fun is that?” he asks her, grinning. No, Frederick is not one for usual ploys. Besides, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to spit the words out; he was nervous enough as it were! He lets out a giggle of glee, despite himself, and starts splashing her back. “Oh, you’ll get it for that, Miss Blume!” he teases and runs — to the best of his ability — towards her, throwing his arms around her shoulders and trying to pull her down under the water with him.

Henrietta Blume runs away from his as she sees him coming towards her, but seeing as she is a terrible runner, it is inevitable that she is eventually pulled down under with him. Emerging from underwater, she teasingly says, “Oh, Mr. Wexler, how could you ever have pulled a lady under water. Tsk tsk.” She continues splashing him and giggling at the same time. “Oh, look at your hair, it’s all so messy now. Let me fix it for you,” she teases as she messes around with his hair, making it worse than before.

Frederick Wexler snickers. “Well, I wouldn’t pull just any lady under water with me, you see. It has to be a special lady.” He grins and almost squacks as she starts pushing his hair around. “Let me fix yours, then, darling.” He starts taking the wet auburn locks and pulling them into her face. Once her face is covered, he reaches down and separates it, so that her nose and eyes just barely poke out. “Now, that’s lovely.” Of course, his is nothing to speak very highly of right now either, sticking half up and threatening to fall into his own face.

Henrietta Blume giggles. “Well, I supposed I should feel special for being pulled underwater, but really I just feel wet.” She squeels as he puts her hair in her face, and then flashes him a charming smile once his masterpiece is complete. “Oh, yes, I feel quite lovely. But nothing can compare to the beautiful creature that you are right now.”

Frederick Wexler smirks. “Oh, I bet.” He pauses. “Man, this water is a lot colder than I thought it would be.” He breaks into laughter and pushes her hair back out of her face. “There. Much better.” Glancing around, he decides to flop onto his back, creating a rather large splash. He swims rather akwardly on his back, being only a moderate swimmer. “Let’s go deeper!” he exclaims with some excitement, the blue of his suit looking actually bright against the dull gray-blue of the water.

Henrietta Blume turns away as she is splashed by his flop. At his suggestion to go deeper, she looks anxiously at the waves. “Are you sure we should go deeper? I mean, it really is quite lovely right here. Actually, you know, I’m getting rather tired. Perhaps a little nap on the beach?”

Frederick Wexler swims back over to her, on his back. This puts him about waist level, and he finds himself looking up at her. “We could nap if you really want to, darling,” He tells her and plants his feet on the ground, standing up. “You’re really sleepy?” He mentally curses for not having brought an umbrella of some sort. No need to make her smooth skin blemished by a sunburn, after all!

Henrietta Blume nods. “Maybe a little nap, and then we can tackle the deeper water a little later. All this excitement has tired me out.” She takes his hand and gives it a big squeeze. “But it is a good tired. A happy tired.” She smiles at him starts heading back toward the beach. “Race you back!”

“How about this? We’ll get dressed, and nap on the train, and then we can tell our families the good news.” He smiles, and then gasps as she’s already running towards the beach. He makes his way through the water and catches up to her, swinging her up in his arms. “Sound good?” Frederick asks, a bit out of breath, and chuckling, as he carries her towards the tents where their clothes are neatly folded still.

Henrietta Blume giggles as he swings her into his arms and replies, “Yes, that sounds wonderful. I can’t wait to get home and tell everyone!” She laughs at him as he carries her to the beach, teasing, “Having trouble breathing there? Perhaps you should put me down. Wouldn’t want to wear you out before the wedding planning even begins.”

Frederick Wexler chuckles. “That’s not going to happen, darling, don’t worry.” He pauses. “I don’t think you could ever tire me out.” He kisses her cheek affectionately and puts her down on the boardwalk in front of the tents. “I’m glad towels are provided,” he chuckles, referring to both of their wet beings. He scoops up his clothes carefully and disappears into his own tent. Ah, he’s an engaged man!

Henrietta Blume giggles at him, replying, “Oh, just you wait. I can become very tiresome.” She disappears into her tent and changes back into her wizarding clothes. When she returns, she says, “I don’t think I’ll ever wear this suit again. I want to keep in in a safe place, with a sign nearby that says, ‘The Engagement Suit’. I just can’t believe it’s really happened. We’re engaged, Freddie, we’re engaged!”

Frederick Wexler can’t help but grin down at the woman and scoop her up in a big hug. “I can’t believe it. Oh, I’m so happy!” He beams at her and takes her hand in his own tenderly, letting his arm rub against hers. He can’t stand to be far from her right now. “To the train!” he tells her, and leads her in that direction. Being the middle of the day, and quite the height of touristy fun, the train is almost entirely empty. He finds a compartment that looks comfy, and heads into it, drawing the shades halfway to block the glare of the sun. He has procured a bag from the pocket of his robe and into it go their suits, so as not to soil anything with the wet fabric. “I’ll never forget today,” he whispers. “Never.”

Henrietta Blume follows him onto the train. “Neither will I,” she whispers back. “Never.” She walks over to one of the comfortable chairs and sits down and gestures for him to sit next to her. “Okay, naptime.”

Frederick Wexler sits as he is directed and draws his arms around her, leaning against the back of the seat comfortably. The both of them smell of salt water, but this doesn’t bother him in the least as he starts to doze sleepily, his cheek resting atop her head.

Ah, high noon. Occasionally the shop would be full around this time with people on lunch breaks and such, but today only one person is milling about the store and the middle-aged, balding mad doesn’t look like he is going to be buying anything. Amalia stretches, yawns and spins around on her stool so she can lean back and lie half on the counter. She’s tired, she didn’t get much sleep last night, but that’s another story… Amalia sits back up and looks down at the small cradle behind the counter. Yay for sleeping Collin! He’s much easier to deal with this way.

Eva Wexler comes sauntering down the stairs, wearing her corset, but looking rather lazy. “Ami, the girls are asleep upstairs, if you want to put Collin into their crib. They wouldn’t mind the company.” She pauses.” They all seem to sleep better with company, anyhow.” The young woman sighs and rubs her stomach. “I think I’m going to tell him today.” She plops onto a stool and ties up her boots lazily, her blue dress looking rather overly formal in comparison to her haphazardly done hair, and the slight bags under her eyes. “Slow day,” the woman comments, stifling a yawn. “Anyway, I think it’s best that he knows. Best for him, anyway. I could care less.” And she means this. Sort of.

But seriously. What was he going to do with all of it? Having just come from lunch with Thieras, Tommy Fallon is laden with boxes of untouched, packaged sandwiches. What was that man thinking when he’d ordered twenty of the things! ‘No, Tommy, I am starving,’ he’d said. Good Lord. He’d already given three sandwiches out to people in passing on the street when he’d gotten the idea to drop in on Eva. Upon walking through the door, he immediately notices Eva in that damned irresistible corset of hers. Putting his energy towards acting nonchalant, he announces, “Afternoon, ladies,” calmly. “Err, would either of you want a sandwich? They were just made an hour ago, I expect they’re still good.”

Amalia Amithest eyes Eva as she saunters down the stairs. “You’re still wearing that thing?” She says, referring to the corset. “Oh? Collin is fine where he is, I think. I’d hate to sake him. Just got him sleeping not too long ago.” Amalia turns so she can see the child, flips her hair over her shoulder and then leans on the countertop again. As the annoyingly tingly bell above then door rings, Amalia once again spins around in her chair. “‘Allo.” Amalia says with a grin and a nod. “A. . sandwich?”

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” Eva admits, running her hands over the boning, which she can still feel under the fabric of her dress. “Anyway, it makes me feel better. Less… fat.” The young woman sighs, casting a glance to the sleeping infant. So small… her thoughts are about to drift off again when she hears the tinkle of the bell and glances up. “Hullo, Tommy,” she greets the man, and pauses, raising an eyebrow at his question. “Why on earth have you so many boxes?” She isn’t even sure she wants to know, but curiosity gets the best of her.

With a sigh, Tommy resigns himself to explaining. “I’ve just come from lunch with Thieras. He said he was hungry enough to order all of these, but, long story short, he wasn’t. Darn git,” Tommy says, but with a grin. “It’s the last time I treat him to a meal, believe me,” the man nods, walking slowly closer to Eva with a smile. “So,” he iterates softly and with his crooked grin, “I’m left with all of these.” Setting the load down on the counter, he looks at Eva again but, really, tries his best not to stare. To say the least, his feelings for the woman do scare him a little. The last time he’d felt like this… all fluttery at times… things had ended badly for him. Very badly.

Amalia Amithest makes a slight humming noise. “Well, that can’t be too altogether good for too much longer.” Amalia says in a tone that sounds as though she’s been through this a thousand times before. Of course, she is really just stating the obvious and would be highly surprised if Eva didn’t know that, or at least couldn’t guess it from just plain common sense. Amalia grins as she examines the boxes. Interesting! It isn’t every day that someone brings something into Honeydukes, and Ami doesn’t get out too much. “Sandwiches are good.” Yes, indeed.

Eva Wexler grins at Tommy, her eyes twinkling. “That sounds so very like Thieras. He didn’t foot you with the bill, did he?” She winks and stands up, suppressing a slight groan as she glances over all the boxes. “Goodness, you must have enough to feed a small army!” Her eyes are wide as she stares at the array. She plucks out one of the smaller boxes and scoots her stool closer to the counter. “Come sit with me, Tommy,” she beckons him, transfiguring a statue into a stool for him. Ah, much better.

“Sandwiches are good,” he agrees with Amalia happily as he takes a seat on the stool, beside Eva. “The bill was indeed ‘footed’ to me. And, that foot hurt,” he says with a low, somehow empty laugh. “So,” he says, nudging Eva in the side with his index and middle fingers, more for the physical contact than anything, he asks, “how have things been going? Good business?” Tommy mildly reprimands himself internally. Is there nothing you can ask about besides the shoppe’s business? He knows the comfortable to do would be to keep his distance, but in the name of not kidding himself, he really is drawn to Eva.

Amalia Amithest picks a box at random and pulls out a sandwich. Mmm. Ami didn’t realize how hungry she was until someone mentioned food. And it is even real food. Not candy which gives you a wonderful buzz but doesn’t really fill you up at all. Amalia nods to Tommy, her mouth too full of sandwich to say anything.

“It’s going. I’ve been upstairs more often than I’d like. The twins have been fussy lately. I think Elsbethe would know best, really.” Feeling Tommy’s nudge, and glancing at him, Eva finds herself wanting to lean over and give him a kiss. Which she does. On the cheek. She grins at him. “Calm down, Ami won’t bite.” She winks at him and opens the box, trying not to look visibly ill at the sight of the sandwich. Was morning sickness supposed to last this far into the day? She isn’t certain of it. She looks at him curiously, trying to figure out a good time to break the news.

Tommy Fallon knows she’s been upstairs a lot. More than he’d like, too. He’d realized recently that he’d found himself missing her in a moment of solitude, which was a bit of a jolt for him. The same jolts he’d been getting all along, really. Bittersweet, the whole thing. For instance, the need to be near her: a hauntingly familiar feeling. And what her smile did to him? That tight sensation in his chest? Too well-known for his liking. Still, it felt right to him somehow, which is why he was here now. He smirks at the last comment and nods. “I know she won’t,” he assures.

Amalia doesn’t bite? I dunno, at the rate that she is currently inhaling her sandwich, one is left to wonder. Any fingers get in the say and they could disappear. Now that she is finished chewing for a short time, Amalia is able to answer Tommy’s question. “Business has been good.” Amalia nods and motions to the cradle with the sleeping child in it. “I do a lot of afternoon shifts. Elsbethe would know mornings best.”

Eva Wexler takes a labored bite and eats it, swallowing carefully while Amalia speaks. “Mmm,” she agrees, nodding. “I fill in when I can, but the twins have been so restless lately. They love to play with each other, but they’re so social, and since they can’t even scoot yet, there’s no mobility. I’ve got to get Elsbethe to bring Etaina over more often.” She pauses and puts the sandwich down. It’s a vain endeavor, anyway. “But, uh, Tommy, I do have something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Been meaning? She’s only known for several days.

Having been nodding slightly in reply to what was being said, Tommy Fallon now tilts his head to the side and makes eye-contact with Eva. This sounded kind of serious, and she has his full attention to be sure. “Oh. Alright. Sure Eva, you can tell me anything,” he says, confident that he was able to mask the uncertainty in his voice.

“Well,” Eva starts, drawing the word out longer than is absolutely necessary. Inside, she’s freaking out, because she’s not had to tell someone yet of her pregnancy. How will he react? What will it mean? She doesn’t know, and almost tries to think of something else to say. “I’m expecting again.” There, it’s out. She reaches out with her handkercheif and dabs at a spot on his cheek, then looks at him again. Motherly habits are starting to set in, obviously. Her heart races as she watches his face intently.

Tommy Fallon looks at her blankly for a minute as he processes what he’s just heard. His mouth is a straight line for once; not raised into a crooked grin as she dabs it. Expecting. Pregnant? Tommy is not aware of much right now, but if he had been, he’d have known that his very first thought was, ‘but, we’re not married,’ although, without delay, he figures that they weren’t married when they… well… Still, this hadn’t been the original intention.(‘What would mother say? What would Avery say?’) A small flower of fear blossoms in the pit of Tommy‘s stomach, and he looks to Amalia for a fleeting moment as if something she could say could help the situation. Subtly biting his lip, he looks back to Eva. As the reality of it all begins to sink in, he just looks at her. (‘Do I love her?’) He somehow finds some solace in her genuine-seeming gaze, and suddenly gets a bit of a shiver. Of excitement. He could so do this. “Eva, I can so do this,” he stammers, but then shakes his head and revises the statement to, “I mean, it’s fine. We’ll be fine! We–” he stops mid sentence as he abruptly becomes cold as though thrown into a tub of ice water at the realization: “Ah–” he lowers his voice substantially, “it is… my… baby, isn’t it?” he asks, afraid he might have just made a very big fool of himself.

Amalia Amithest watches everything go on from the sidelines as though she is watching a tennis match. Her eyes go back and fourth, back and fourth, back and fourth as she occasionally nibbles on her sandwich. As Tommy looks to her, Amalia shrugs a bit and nibbles on her sandwich some more. “Hopefully, it is only one this time.”

Eva Wexler glances at Amalia, almost ready to die at the comment. Oh, come now, Amalia, a vote of confidence on this one! Eva sighs and looks back at Tommy. “Don’t mind her. I can’t help it if twins run in my family.” She pauses. “Yes, yes, it’s yours.” Well, it’s a small lie. There’s always the possibility that it’s Arnauld’s, but Eva thinks it much more plausible that it is his. She reaches out and takes his hand. “It’s alright. Calm down.” She almost wants to shake him, to make him settle down. He’s acting more nervous than she feels!

Taking a deep breath, Tommy does try and calm down, laughing at what Amalia’s said in the process. “Twins run in my family, too,” is all he can really think of to say, as his mind swims with relief after hearing that it is his baby. To think of it being someone else’s… well, he just wouldn’t think about that right now. And as Eva takes his hand presently, against his better high and masculine judgment, he hangs on for dear life.

Amalia finished up her sandwich and flips her hair over her shoulder. Amalia takes a moment to glance down at Collin and is forced to double-take. Oh, he’s awake! Amalia slides off of her stool, scoops the baby boy up and holds him close. Amalia bounces him a tad as she turns to Eva and motions to the stairs with her head. She’s going to go ahead and take him up before he even has a chance to get fussy. With a smile to Tommy and a wink to Eva Amalia climbs the stairs and disappears.

Even though she feels completely ill, Eva slides off her stool and rests her head on Tommy’s shoulder. Actually… this feels kind of nice. She snuggles up to him. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had one set of twins. I can handle it.” She believes this, too. It’s just… kind of nice, leaning there like that. Kind of cozy. Eva? Where have you gone to? When did you get romantic? Her brain seems to be screaming at her, but for once, her emotions are winning, and she’s giving into what feels right.

Tommy Fallon is again struck into blankness as she leans against him. His back goes a little rigid, but not to the point to which she would have likely noticed. Then, sitting there, he realizes his right hand is idly stroking Eva’s hair while his face stares dead-pan ahead of him at nothing in particular. He does love her. But these things needed to be taken one step at a time. They’d just taken one together, and now they’d have to deal with it properly. Blinking slowly, he looks down at her with a smile and hugs her closer with his arm. They should name the baby Eva. Or Evan. “You can handle it,” he repeats with a nod.

Gabriel Goden walks down the street, head down slightly. Imagine the injustice. Even though his sisters were allowed to get away with everything, Gabriel was being punished for his latest ‘antic’. Really, setting fire to the sticks in the back yard was surely not against any rules. Plus, he had to be ready for when he got to Hogwarts in a few weeks’ time. No use in falling behind. All things considered, he supposes that being sent to run errands is not such a bad punishment. Still, a cookie would have been more appreciated, thinks Gabriel as he passes by the candy shop, stopping to look into the window.

Briony Wexler, who has spent much of the day, engrossed in a thrilling book, glances up at the boy. “Hullo,” she greets him. “You were in the shop yesterday, weren’t you? With your mother?” Not a shy thing, is she? She grins at him, missing one tooth off to the left. “My auntie owns that shop there,” she tells him, her voice filled with glee and pride. After much coaxing, she convinced her father to let her stay with her most favorite aunt for a whole week! And what a glorious day it has been so far. She smiles as she waits for his answer.

Gabriel Goden is somewhat surprised by the girl’s sudden inquiry. “Yes… I was here with my mum yesterday. She’s friends with Miss Eva… your auntie Eva I suppose. Mum loves looking at babies; I suspect that’s why she loves going to the candy shop. There are too many babies in there for my tastes,” he explains. “So,” he starts, putting down the bag Avery had given him to tote the purchases home, “I haven’t seen you around before. Where do you live…? I mean when you don’t live with Miss Eva?”

“I live in Islington with my Dad and Mum, and my little brother and sister. They’re too young to stay away from home, though. A whole week I get to be here. Dad’s not really happy, I don’t think, but Mum thinks it’s good.” Briony giggles amiably. “The babies are cute. They don’t even wake me up at night! Have you seen Miss Elsbethe’s baby? She’s really cute. She’s a little older than my cousins.” Again, the child giggles and flashes a big grin at the boy. “Say, have you ever heard of this book? My Mum and Dad are always getting me new books, but I’ve never seen one like this that Auntie Eva got for me!” She brandishes it for him. “It’s full of adventures and fighting and exciting things. Mum and Dad’s books are never this exciting.” Indeed, she looks quite thrilled as her cheeks are flushed.

Gabriel Goden nods. “I’ve lived in Hogsmesde my whole life. Right now, there is just a lot of babies around, that’s all. No offense,” he adds as an afterthought. “I saw Miss Elsbethe’s baby,” he offers. “I suppose she was as good-looking a baby as I’ve ever seen,” he says as he steps closer to her to get a better look at the book. “My sisters read those,” he says. “They’re nine. I’m eleven,” (he decided the last part was important to note). “What books do your parents have you read?” he asks.

Briony Wexler shrugs. “Books with lots of silly romantic things in them. People being all kissy and funny with each other. They’re alright, I guess. But this is much more exciting.” She giggles. “This seems like a nice place to live. Not a whole lot happening. Do you get to go to London much? Dad and Mummy take us about four times a year. It’s loads of fun! My favorite shop is the Quidditch shop. I’m just dying to learn how to play. Do you know how? Dad won’t teach me yet. He says it’s too dangerous.” Briony scowls a bit and hugs her knees to her chest, looking up at him with interest. What a nice boy this seems to be, even if he is a boy.

Gabriel Goden brightens immediately. “Quidditch is so dangerous!” Gabriel exclaims. Looking around slightly, he bends closer to the girl and says in hushed tones, “Don’t tell anyone, but last week my dad let me ride on his broom. He said not to tell mum because she would put him in a dog house for it, but it was fantastic. I didn’t fly high, though,” he says. “Once I become a Quidditch star at Hogwarts this year, I will teach you,” he promises. He did, of course, conveniently leave out the part about first years not being allowed to be on the teams. “So, when are you going to Hogwarts?” he asks.

“You mean next year, of course. Or did they change the rules? Can you be on the Quidditch team on your first year?” She asks this in all earnest, believing him to be sincere. “I’ll go next year, for I’m only ten now. I’m very excited though.” She smiles happily clapping a bit and then hugging her knees again. “You really must teach me to play Quidditch, though. I really want to learn. I’m sure I’ll be brilliant at it. Apparently a couple of my uncles played it at school, and were brilliant. At least, that’s what Uncle Freddie tells me. He never played, himself, but he said Uncle Jared and Uncle Logan were great.” She shrugs. “Have you many uncles?” Briony asks curiously.

Gabriel Goden shrugs. “I don’t really have any uncles, technically,” he says. “Both of my parents are only children so… but my mum has four cousins that she grew up with. So they are like my aunties and uncles I’d say,” he says with a satisfied nod. In answering her other question, he hesitates. “Oh… right, next year… about the Quidditch, I mean. But I will learn how to fly brilliantly in flying lessons. Then when you come to Hogwarts I’ll teach you,” he says, thinking the situation saved as well as possible.

Briony Wexler giggles. “It’s a deal! Maybe I’ll see if I can’t stay in Hogsmeade with Auntie Eva next summer. Then you could teach me before I even come!” She grins and sets her book into a nook under the doorcover to keep it dry in case of a rainstorm, and stands up quickly. “Do you want to play at something?” she asks congenially. “We could pretend at pirates!” She giggles and starts thrashing about with an imaginary sword, her hair flying about rather wildly. “Or maybe we could pretend to be Unspeakables and do,” her voice drops to a secretive tone, “Unspeakable research!”

Gabriel Goden leaps up beside her and exclaims, “Unspeakable research! I know everything about that stuff; my dad works in the department of mysteries!” For some reason, Gabriel is prompted to try to have the girl like him. Odd. Usually girls were… well, the type who liked to read about kissy romances. This girl was different than all them. “We can find out all the mysteries in Hogsmeade and then solve them like my dad does!” he says excitedly.

Briony Wexler cheers. “We must begin at once! Who knows when the last time was that someone tried to work on the mysteries!” She giggles and looks up at him — after all the boy is a good two inches taller than she is. “Where shall we start? What about that place down the road. The one with the purple eaves. I swear I see more and more cats coming out of there every day.” She crosses her arms and raises her eyebrow curiously. “I bet there’s something fishy going on in there.”

Gabriel Goden cranes his neck and then lets out an all-knowing “ahh,” as if able to see the house perfectly from where the pair are presently standing. “I definitely agree with you. There is probably already a log about the mysterious purple-eaved-cat-house in the department of mysteries, but we should investigate it right now to save the Ministry some time,” he says with a grin. “You can be the first witness about it: so, how many cats have you seen from it in the last few days?” asks Gabriel, fishing out his mother’s grocery list from the bottom of his bag and posing his hand over it, as if holding a quill at the ready to record her answer.

Putting a finger to her chin thoughtfully, Briony answers, “At least fifty.” She grins her tooth-missing grin, and puts her hands on her hips. “Now, what about you? Have you seen any strange occurrences from that house?” She pauses. “I think we should call it The Purple House. That way we know which one we’re talking about.” She nods sagely and rocks on her heels, as if to quell some unspent energy. “Keep a good log; we’ll want that later.” She giggles and then stifles herself. Unspeakables have serious jobs, not fun jobs. She turns a bit to look at the house in the distance. “How long do you suppose it’s been that colour?”

Gabriel Goden replies, “As long as I’ve lived here,” he assures her, “and I’ve lived here all my life.” He hastily portrays the act of scribbling ‘upwards of fifty cats’ on the parchment before looking up again. “Alright, that should be enough basis work. Now, we must go to the scene of the occurrence and observe what we see there.” Gabriel smirks inwardly at his use of big words. Hopefully, the girl will think highly of him. “In this case, the Purple House,” he adds as he begins to walk towards said house. “In response to your question, the only strangeness I have noticed is some yelling of odd words such as, ‘Buttercup!!’ late in the evening,” Gabriel states with one eyebrow raised.

Briony Wexler finds herself in awe of the big words, some of which she doesn’t know the meaning to. This has never mattered in the past to her, of course, so she nods excitedly. “Yes! Let’s go!” She giggles and grabs his hand, taking off at a swift run towards the house in question. She stops in front of it, still clinging to his hand, and finds a tremor of fear inside her as she steps back ever so slightly behind him. She has seen some spooky things going on, now that she thinks of it. “So, sh-should we knock on the door?” she asks quietly, as if speaking more loudly will provoke some ill omens.

Gabriel Goden was slightly taken aback by her taking his hand, but more grevious tasks are at hand, now, as they stand in front of the Purple House (his blush goes away quickly and is replaced with the pallid tone of a boy who is on his guard). He looks over his shoulder at the girl but shakes his head. “We can’t knock on the door until the situation is secure.” Secure from what, he doesn’t really know, but to be safe he begins circling the house, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Upon his first few steps around the house, nothing strikes him as… extraordinary. “Hmmm,” he says, as if contemplating something deeply. Then, his eyes alight on something. He puts his arm out in front of the girl so she stays protected behind him.

“What did you see?” Briony asks, finding some of her confidence again. She hears a rustling and some mewing as a couple of kittens roll out of some nearby bushes. “Awww, look at them! Aren’t they darling!” She skips over to them quickly and kneels, watching them. Ah, to be a ten-year-old girl. “I wonder if Dad would let me take one home…” she muses loudly, then gasps, having forgotten the task at hand momentarily. She strides back over to Gabriel and nods slowly. “I have deemed those two harmless and safe,” she tells him, as if reciting from a book, and trying to look important.

Gabriel Goden nods slowly in the same fashion as Briony. “Harmless… and…. safe…”, he repeats aloud as he ‘writes’ it onto the parchment. “Alright, let’s keep going,” he says as they continue their walk– err, mission. As they round the last corner and arrive again at the front porch, Gabriel surveys the house as a whole and adds, “scene… appears… secure…” to the paper. “Okay…” he starts. “Now what?”

“Uhhh… I don’t know,” Briony admits. “I guess we should go in.” She pauses after taking a step towards the house. “Do we knock?” she asks him in a hushed voice. “Does anyone even live here?” She realizes that she doesn’t know that much about the house and looks at him curiously. “It does say that there have been spooky sounds coming from the house, here in your notes.” She points to a spot on the paper, as if making light of some notes he had taken. “Maybe someone is living here — when they don’t own the house!” Her mouth forms an “O” shape in shock.

Gabriel Goden suggests helpfully, “Or it could be a ghost.” He smirks dubiously before saying, “Either way there is only one way to find out… we knock,” he says, sounding brave. He has, in fact, seen a harassed-looking old witch enter the house on a few occasions throughout his life, so he is not too worried about the ghost hypothesis. Stepping up to the ancient-looking wooden door, he raps lightly on it with his knuckles. “Hello?” he inquires.

Briony Wexler follows him up to the house and stands next to him, pressing her ear to the wall next to the door. “I hear creaking!” she hisses, her eyes wide. “I — I think somebody’s in there!” Her voice sounds thrilled and frightened at the same time. She stands up and peeks into a crack in the wall, hoping to see inside the house. “Should we go inside? I really want to get to the bottom of this!” She grins at him, bouncing a little bit, her adrenaline starting to pump. “Then the Ministry won’t have to do it!” She grins at him.

Gabriel Goden nods. “My dad will be glad, it’ll save him some ti–” he stops dead as the door creaks open. The boy stares in unchecked shock as he gazes upon the hunched yet impossibly looming figure of the old woman. “Yes?” she croaks as she eyes the two children. “Ah… we…” Gabriel starts, as he looks from the witch, to Briony, and back to the witch. “We were… wondering if we could ask you some… er… questions?” he says, wondering at the time if his unease is present in his voice.

“We’d like to ask some questions about a project we’re doing. It’s about cats. We thought you might know something about them, since you have a lot around your house.” Briony smiles at the woman. Always quick on her feet, is Briony. She tries her best to look cute and not look suspicious. After all, they’re trying to investigate her for foul doings! She giggles as the kittens come tramping up the steps to the house, tickling and biting her feet with their claws and teeth.

Gabriel Goden glances at Briony shortly before realizing that she is just acting at being innocent. They are, after all, under-cover Ministry agents. Yes, he will play along so their cover will not be blown… After the woman nods and gives an awkward, being-put-on-the-spot smile, Gabriel asks, “do all of the cats around here live in this house with you? Or, just how many cats do you own?” He has his imaginary quill hovering over his parchment and suddenly feels a bit foolish. He lowers the parchment, ready to take mental notes.

Briony Wexler listens as the woman stammers something out about the cats just showing up and nods as if she is very interested. After all, she’s on a mission. Of course, as the woman mentions cookies, all secret plans are forgotten. “Yes, please!” She says, her eyes lit up excitedly. Cookies! Who wouldn’t want cookies? Well, Briony remembers her father, but of course, he doesn’t want her to play Quidditch, either. She shrugs and tugs Gabriel in after her. Of course he’ll like cookies. She grins at the lady, showing the spot where her tooth is missing.

Gabriel Goden sighs as Briony is lulled over by the prospect of baked goods; however, he can’t truly say that he is whole-heartedly opposed to the idea. As he is dragged along behind Briony, he resigns himself to two cookies; no more, in case this woman is actually a spy. (From where and spying on what didn’t actually cross his mind.) As the woman appears to want nothing better than to have them leave her dwelling after this odd visit, Gabriel offers a, “thank you, good-bye,” as the lady smiles and opens the door for them. Once outside again, Gabriel nods. “Well, I guess that mystery is kind of solved, now!”

“I guess so! And, hehe, she makes good cookies.” Briony grins at him, taking another bite of the cookie in her hand. Briony could not be resigned to only two cookies; she had taken four. “So, we’ll send our notes to the ministry, and let them know that they can forget about that mystery. It’s all solved!” She giggles and skips a bit towards the road where she sees her aunt Eva, accompanied by many people who frequented Honeydukes. Her aunt seems to be a bit upset, Briony notices, and looks with a bit of a worried glance at Gabriel. “I wonder what the matter is with them,” she comments, glancing back at them, coming to a stop.

Gabriel Goden loses colour. “Uh oh, my MUM is with your auntie…” Oh, Gabriel is in trouble and he knows it. “I was– er, kind of supposed to be running errands right now,” he explains to Briony. However, that explanation was rendered redundant with Avery’s stern exclamation of, “Gabriel Goden! You were supposed to be buying my groceries!” Gabriel stutters, “but m-mum, I met,” he points, “her, and we had to solve the Purple mystery… that is, the house cat mystery of the house with… the eaves,” he becomes more flustered as Avery nears. “We’re going home Gabriel; obviously this is not the right way to set you straight!” says Avery, although a glance to Eva might tell of her relief in finding her son safe, if stammering.

“It’s okay, Gabriel. I’ll see you tomorrow!” Briony giggles and waves, skipping over to her aunt. “Look, the lady in the house with all the cats gave me some cookies!” she shows Eva as the two head back towards Honeydukes. Eva shakes her head, biting her lip and resisting the urge to laugh. She waves to Avery and Gabriel, beckoning Briony to follow her into the shop. Briony pauses. “You’ll come see me tomorrow, won’t you?” she affirms, pulling her book out from its hiding spot, waiting on the step, under the eave, staying clear of the dripdrops which are just starting to fall.

Hazarding a glance up to his mother, Gabriel nods slightly. “Maybe,” he says. “Oh, umm…” so awkward: “What’s your name, by the way?” he asks. Surely, if his mum would allow, he’d love to solve a couple more mysteries with the girl before starting Hogwarts; he needed to sharpen his mind if he was to learn and remember spells and house passwords and directions and names.

“My name is Briony,” she answers gleefully and waves her cookies at him. “See you tomorrow!” she hails and then twirls and runs inside, shouting something to her Aunt Eva about her great adventures of the day. Her skirt flies behind her and is the last thing that is seen of her as the door swings shut behind her and her giggles linger in the air as she tells her tales.

It is another riotous night at the Hog’s Head. Crowded with people from all walks of life, the tavern is hopping. There is music from the act up on the stage and the noisy shouts of orders and conversation fill the entire building, the ruckus spilling out onto the street outside. People mill around the open door and those by the bar can see the privileged few make their way up the guarded door behind the bar. Meanwhile, Arnauld has entered the scene and presses palms with not just a few of his clientèle. Truly, the man is quite at home in these surroundings. Passing a moment, he speaks with a graying man and then moves on, openly eying certain people of both genders that catch his eye.

Eva Wexler, in the mood for fun, saunters slowly into the Hog’s Head. She knows Arnauld will be here, and rather is counting on it, as she finds herself hoping for a repeat performance. She is a bit surprised to find how much more crowded it is in the bar, and is pleased. This will make her somewhat less conspicuous in her bright green dress. Though not by much. She grins widely at a few people whose eye she catches and saunters up to the bar, ordering something relatively harmless and taking hold of it while she scans the crowd for Arnauld’s distinctive appearance.

Bobbing through the crowd, Arnauld still wears his top hat even though he’s indoors. Then again, no one here seems to mind and most everyone could apparently care very little for the polished manners that are so often expected. Waggling his brows at one young woman, he smacks her on the rump as she flaunts by. She turns and says something that is lost in the noise, but the man throws his head back and laughs, only bothering to retrieve the hat when he’s done. Sure, it’s a little beaten now, but that doesn’t mean he has to care. Turning toward the bar, he calls out to the tender but stops mid shout as he spots Eva. A decidedly lecherous smile peels his lips back and he heads over in the young woman’s direction, pulling off the hat as he approaches.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Eva attempts to say suavely, though is forced to speak louder than she considers at all suave. It’s wild tonight, and she’s feeling the excitement of everything. “How are you tonight?” she asks him, taking a swig of her drink, her eyes twinkling. She definitely ought to bring Amalia in here when it’s like this, she decides, grinning at a gentleman who brazenly squeezes her fanny as he walks by. Only in a place like this could something so inappropriate be acceptable. And she can’t find it in her to mind.

“Ehhh you do not be touching her when I am here!” Of course, Arnauld‘s ‘jealous’ comment is far too dramatic to be real and there is no vitriol in his statement, his eyes are glittering with amusement and mischief as he calls after the man. He gets no response, but he really expects none. Before he can order, a drink is served and he grabs the small glass, taking the opportunity to press quite close to Eva. “I’m glad you came by. I’ve been missing your company.” Though he was grazing the crowd before, now his attention is on Eva, as if she were the only pretty thing in the entire world. “How are you doing my dear?”

Eva Wexler grins up at him, and scoots closer to him, not the least bit ashamed. “I have been well. Slept for hours after I finally came home. Amalia was properly shocked and pleased.” She chuckles and sips her drink again. “I’ve decided I’m going to bring her here. She needs to have a bit of fun.” A pause. “And, after she told me a sad story about the last time she came in, I decided to refresh her opinion of the place, and make it better.” She laughs joyously, and then leans up and kisses him gently on the lips. Shy? Yeah, right.

Returning tenfold, for he leans down as Eva leans up, setting his drink on the counter without much problem. Arnauld reaches around and hugs her waist, pulling the woman to him. Continues to kiss, a passionate sweet thing rather than ravenous hunger he had shown the previous night. A few catcalls are directed at the couple’s direction but there is so much going on that no one really notices and less even care. Releasing the woman, he stands back up with a satisfied sigh, “It is good to know you are well. I had to have someone open, I was so late getting out of bed.” “You should bring this friend of yours here sometime. I’m sure she’d have a much better time of it now. What happened the last time she was here?” Grabbing the purple drink, he takes a swallow of the liquor as he listens.

Eva Wexler leans against the bar, holding her drink, and ignoring the bartender. “She was loitering, trying to catch the attention of some man, and there were two chatting. She was sure one of them would come around, but not ten minutes later, they left. Together.” She snickers and sips her drink again, then sets it down on the bar. “I do think she was properly horrified, but I’ve assured her that if I don’t procure someone for her to spend some time with by the end of her night, that she needn’t feel obligated to come with me again.” She grins up at the man, who appears to be having a grand old time. The noise and laughter is a wonderful atmosphere, putting her into an even better mood than she had been when she walked in. Or perhaps it was the alcohol. She just knew she felt as if she was walking on clouds.

Eventually, the band is booed off stage and the musicians go scrambling. There’s a chant for “Chantelle!” Women join in as much as the men do with the chanting. Soon enough a burlesque act ensues with a very pretty and very young thing as the star of the spectacle. Arnauld for his part doesn’t seem to even notice the change in atmosphere, the room becoming more charged if that’s even possible. “Is that so, that would be rather disappointing for a young lady interested in only the opposite sex, yes.” Waving his glass high he grins from ear to ear, “We cater to all sorts here, I hope that this friend can finds something more suited to her tastes now that we’re staggering with business.”

Chuckling, Eva‘s gaze is drawn towards the stage. “No, she definitely prefers men.” She pauses. “Who is that up there? She’s very pretty.” She watches with only half interest, as Arnauld‘s presence is very warm, being so close to her. She grins up at him, tossing a stray curl over her shoulder. Once again, she has managed to get her hair to stay in curls, if only for the time being. She finds herself irresistable in them. She runs a finger over the top of his clothes, tracing around his neck and along his shoulders slowly, as if making a mental picture of him. She looks down for a moment, then back up at him, feeling rather smooth as she awaits his answer.

At the woman’s touch, there comes from the man a staggered breathing and he does not answer her query right away. Tipping back the glass, he drinks another mouthful before putting the glass back upon the counter. “Chantelle,” the barely legal girl on the stage gets a quick glance and he swallows tightly. “She is,” “but my gods I love your hair.” Reaching down, Arnauld grabs Eva with some force but not in a dangerous fashion. It is raw passion and he kisses her again, reluctantly letting her go when the moment passes. A finger reaches out and touches the curls and he brushes them behind her ear with a fond expression that is anything but fatherly. “She is a girl I found in Paris. Quite talented, but unfortunately her talents do not lie in magic. Hers is a sad story, but I’m hoping that she can do better here. At least she never has to sleep for money. Or settle on an unhappy marriage.”

Eva Wexler grins at his open affection and slides her arm up around his neck, clearly not finding anything fatherly about him at the moment. “Is she a squib then?” she asks carefully, knowing that a lack of magic can be a touchy subject. She grins up at him, suddenly feeling that all the work tying her hair up at night is worth it, to have a reaction like that from him, or from anyone. She runs her fingers across the back of his neck carefully and looks back up at the stage. “It certainly is a mercy for her, to be sure. After all, either of those would be horrid. Marriage and …” she pauses, “love, ought to be pleasurable, not done out of necessity.” She grins up at him. She is obviously quite glad that she doesn’t /need/ to sleep with him to get something. Though with him, she may have been more inclined to do so.

A single nod is all he manages, and though he speaks Arnauld‘s gaze does not shift away from Eva. “She is a squib; her family was going to match her up with some ass of a wizard so that they could keep their blood pure.” “So she ran away, went out to the streets and I found her. Such a sad little creature I haven’t seen in years.” Tripping his fingers through her tresses, the Frenchman just can’t keep his fingers away. “Indeed, love itself ought to be one of the most pleasurable experiences, preformed not for living desperately, but to enhance to pleasure of being alive. She is happy here, she is popular and liked and she has choices. We, we are lucky, are we not?” Bending down he plants a small kiss on the right-hand corner of Eva’s mouth.

“Yes, I would say so.” She smirks over his shoulder at a rather jealous-looking female. Ah, well, one person’s loss was another’s gain, was it not? She turns her head and presses her lips to his gently. “Don’t know what we did to deserve it, but I figure I’ll do my damndest to enjoy it.” Eva smirks and reaches back, pulling a few pins out of her hair and letting her hair fall down. Not all of it curls as neatly as the front and sides, but there is a definite wave to most of it, thanks to the rags. “I hope she enjoys her time here. Do tell her to drop by Honeydukes. We’d be more than happy to see her there.” She grins at him, her green eyes shining happily.

“I’ll do that. She could always use to know more people.” In the next breath, whatever lingering sadness he had over the mention of the star is gone, “You have such beautiful hair. I adore the curls. You know, there are spells for that sort of thing.” He doesn’t have a keen eye for nothing but Arnauld continues to caress the curls, allowing them to slide between his fingers and fall away before catching up another light handful of them. “Do? We don’t ‘do’ anything to deserve what we get, it is all luck really. The fortunes, whatever you want to call it. They seem to have blessed me with meeting you, so I will take it for the time we have.” Reaching around he grabs Eva by the waist and perches her on a now free stool. For his efforts, he gets a dark stare from a gentleman but the glare is rebuffed with a smile and a waving of his fingers.

“Who was blessed?” Eva teases, giggling girlishly and perching on the stool, and flashing a sweet smile to the gentleman who seems so perturbed. Ah, what unhappiness belongs in such a place on a night like tonight? She’s sure she doesn’t know. She smiles up at him and takes her drink, holding it up to him. “To the time we have together,” she toasts joyfully, before taking a rather large drink. This sends her into a fit of giggles and she rests her forehead against his shoulder momentarily as she half listens to the racket and riot coming from the stage. The audience appears to be enjoying it, as they are closely huddled ’round the pretty young girl. She smiles at him genuinely as she swings her legs a bit on the stool.

There is a second of emotional distance but then the man shakes himself free of whatever concern tried to drag him down. Picking up his own glass, and returns the toast with renewed vigor as he washes it down with the rest of the purple liquid. “Oh yes, of course you were blessed too, I mean look at me. I am Arnauld Ribouet, the toast of Hogsmeade!” Let it not be said that the man is wallflower, but for all his bravado, he nearly always has to perform in such extravagant ways. Leaning in with low laugh, it is evident that the bearded man is feeling the power of his drink as he lands a kiss on Eva’s lips.

As his lips once again collide with hers, she sets her drink down and hugs him around the neck comfortably. There is something about him that she can’t seem to resist. Perhaps it his free-spirited attitude. Or his nonchalance. It doesn’t matter, really, Eva finds as she feels herself melting inside, returning the kiss with fervor. A giggle escapes her throat as they are bumped into rather rudely by a man in quest of something or someone beyond them, and paying attention to nothing else.

“You m’dear I can trust.” A murmured whisper brushes against her lips, and Arnauld lifts the woman off the chair again and carries her to the guarded doorway. The wizards on guard have watched the approach and the door is opened by the time he reaches them. There is noise from up the stairs, clearly another section of the bar that is unseen by most patrons. “But I must ask you not to speak of my, extra areas of business.” Up the stairs they depart. The top floor is cast in long shadows by flickering magical lights. It is close up here and quiet personal. Once they are on solid ground, he puts her down. There is a different quality of music here, it has a flavor of India and there are small congregations of men and women, some openly having relations while others smoke from hookas and other odd equipment.

Eva Wexler‘s eyebrows raise as she takes in the atmosphere. It is less noisy here, though the energy is certainly no less. It seems to course through her veins and excite her all the more. She slips her hand into his, and looks around obviously, taking everything in. She’s never seen or even imagined anything quite like this. She grins up at him. “What is this place?” she asks him in a quiet voice, so as not to disturb anyone from their doings. Not that she probably could, anyway. Her eyes take in his appearance in the different lighting, and find yet another appreciation for his features.

“It is a secret that I am willing to share with you.” Grasping Eva’s hand, Arnauld leads her to the back, where there is a thick velvet curtain. Ushering her inside, it is calmer in here than the main room. There is also no one else here. A mellow blue light drapes the room with faux moonlight and it is here that the Frenchman seems to grow younger, even though in reality he does not. Thick pillows are scattered on the floor, a low table holds a pitcher of water and several crystal glasses on a tray. There is wealth in this room, the sumptuous luxury of a man with more than he’s showing to the world below. “The right people know where to come. It is here that that the real pleasures are to be tried. I have a wide clientele that needs their privacy, but I trust you are not one to reveal these findings to the public. People need a release, an escape, somewhere to get rid of the world out *there*,” flashing a hand in the direction of the street outside, “and so I give them what they want.”

It takes some time for Eva to take all of the aspects of this newfound world, but she seems to be quite willing to learn. “I am honored that you trust me with this,” She tells him, turning to him after a short glance out the window. The room holds an ambience that plays on her emotions and her skin, seeming to make her toes curl and her skin hum with beauty. She feels beautiful in this room. She twirls around, her hair spinning behind her, then leans in close to him, on her tiptoes, her lips hovering near to his.

“You could be a Rajah’s wife, with your beauty. But you could never be happy living like that, you have far too much spirit. It’s what I like about you.” Lowering himself into one of the cushions, Arnauld pours the water out into two glasses. Leaning back, he reaches over to hand Eva one. “Only water. I thought the calm might be good after all the bodies downstairs.” “Though of course,” he drifts off, the suggestion left standing in silence as his fingers touch hers.

Eva Wexler lowers herself down next to him, and takes her water. Perhaps a bit of refreshment first. She smiles and feels tingles run up her spine as his fingers brush hers ever so gently. “That sounds like a marvellous idea,” she agrees, her eyes twinkling with mischeif and happiness, and perhaps a small twinge of a love-like affection. She sips her water, then sets it down, leaning down to kiss him softly. The atmosphere was perfect, the evening unspoiled. She couldn’t ask for more out of life than at that moment.