grownups don't take enough time to play -- zach

[CHANDLER CORA CALLAGHAN]

"Tell me why you look so dressed up, little miss," the elderly man seated at one of the uncomfortably tiny tables outside of Madam Puddifoot's inquisitively pressed as Chandler appeared at the door of the tea shop. The sun had begun to set and with the night approaching the shop would be closing. The man had been perched at the table all day, a full cup of on the table that was ignored while he scribbled furiously at a piece of parchment. It was a slow day so Chandler's attention had been turned on the man all day. She had no clue who he was or what he was up to, it made her way about him. Madam Puddifoot only waved her concern away, it was nothing apparently because they served to a variety of customers. But when closing time came Chandler told the madam that she was going to kindly tell the man to leave, the table was the shop's property and he needed to skedaddle.

Having him notice her dressy appearance made her uncomfortable because no one ever made comments about the way she presented herself. Chandler didn't play on her appearance at all. Fashion wasn't one of her strong points, she was much like a guy when it came to her clothes choice. Honestly she didn't think that she was beautiful, just another face that everyone would pass by. Flustered, she tugged furiously on the hem of her dress and gave a shrug of her shoulders. "Formal wear is the uniform for the shop. I've gotta follow the rules, right?" It was a rhetorical question, she had no interest in hearing his answer. The only thing that interested her was watching him collect his things and lift his arse out of the chair. Having the last customer leave meant that she could lock up and call it a day.

He was slow to reply to her, like she had all the time in the world to catch his attention. Chandler couldn't voice her irritation towards the old man. Her thoughts and actions reflected on the shop and Madam Puddifoot didn't hire young women who couldn't tame their tongue. The madam had told her that after she had nearly let her mouth loose on a snobby girl who swore that Chandler had spit in her tea. She resorted to tapping her heel against the cobblestone, hoping that the annoying noise would disrupt whatever the man was up to. Eventually the sound reached him, pulling him out of whatever world that he had managed to get lost in. "Sorry, miss. I know that's closing time, but my best writing always comes when I'm sitting outside of this shop. It almost helps my muse or something." He set his quill down and peered up at her, giving a warm smile that Chandler tried her best to ignore but it almost felt like he had sunshine infused in his lips. How could someone smile so brilliantly? "That doesn't change the fact that you've got to leave now, sir," she tried to pleasantly answer.

Her heel returned to tapping more furiously against the stone on the street. He had failed to answer her request and was efficiently succeeding at causing her levels of frustration to rise. "Sir," she finally spoke after the silence had become more awkward than anything. "You're going to have to collect your things and leave now. I would like to close up the shop and I can't do that until you're gone." She was speaking bluntly now, trying to remain civil but obviously failing horribly. The man chuckled softly and slowly lifted his gaze to meet Chandler's stare. She took no care to soften the fierceness of her eyes, clearly wishing to show that she had no desire to cater to him with kindness any longer. His stare was only as warm as his smile as he began to pile up his belongings. "Would you mind escorting me to the Hog's Head then, miss? I'm a little wobbly on my feet."

Chandler blanched at him for a moment, finding it absolutely absurd that he was still amiably dealing with her when she was like a hot coal in his hands. A flick of her wand was directed towards the door which caused the lock to securely turn. She almost gave an exasperated sigh but instead answered his question with a high voltage smile. "I wouldn't want you falling, sir. I'll gladly escort you. Merlin knows that I could use a drink." She leaned forward and carefully slid all of his things into the satchel that was hanging on the side of his chair. The warm smile didn't cease as he slowly worked his way onto his feet. "Thank you, Chandler."

The grasp she had on the satchel was nearly released when he spoke her name. She recollected herself quickly, shouldering the bag and reaching out to securely hold his arm. They hobbled along in silence for a moment before she quietly asked, "My name isn't exactly revered. May I ask how you know of me?" She never introduced herself when she was in the shop because it wasn't like the customers cared to know her name. He slipped his hands into his pockets, warm smile seemingly plastered on his face. "You must not recall me then. I'm the writer that trailed after the dragon enthusiasts that traveled to New Zealand. You were the potential tamer that intrigued me the most." He spoke simply, his words slapping against Chandler as she continued to gently guide him closer to the Hog's Head. She had no idea how to respond, attention wasn't something that she asked for. Especially not the kind that was related to having a writer track you down because your story catches their eye.

Ultimately she didn't answer at all, figuring she only make a fool out of herself if she plunged into one of her rambling spells. Awkwardly she continued to lead him down the street, letting go of his arm when they finally reached the Hog's Head. Pulling the door open, she looked at him and managed a strained smile. "Here we are, sir." He didn't glance at her, only wobbled inside with legs that seemed like they were about to collapse. She followed in after him, softly pushing him aside to drop down onto a stool. A few sketchy characters were lingering around the grimy bar, turning their open stares onto her and becoming intrigued because she wasn't a hag or cloaked and sneakily moving about. She was out of place but she really needed a drink, overwhelmed by the old man and his words. The attention was still drawn to her, everyone murmuring about the burns on her body that could easily be detected. Zach was behind the bar, as expected, and she gave him a shaky smile. "I think you know that I want firewhiskey. And a lot of it."

1, 157 words ,
Jedi Third with Zach ,
Outfit ,
Cue the rambling ,

[ZACHARY JUDAS WULF]

.

Stretching a bit, Zachary turned his head. The night was still young but there was nothing to be done about the small turn out at the Hog’s Head. It had always been like this since it was a small grimy bar that most people never went to. It was always the Three Broomsticks, but even that was a bit overrated for some people. At least at the Hog’s Head there was some good conversation to be had, even it wasn’t much. Most of the people at the bar were rather sketchy folk, nothing like Knockturn Alley but shady all the same. Zach was very familiar with the darker, shadier places that the wizarding world had to offer, if only because he could see what had to be done when it came right down to it. He wasn’t really sure what he was going to do about most things but he couldn’t help the rest of it. He was just here doing his job as the Ministry and Aberforth had described.

Yes, Zachary was a muggle but he had been working for Aberforth for quite some time and there wasn’t much that he could do about that. It had been a while since he had done anything remotely fun in his mind, but then again, he found his job fun, which was what it came down to at the end of the day. He was a bit odd that way, but he couldn’t help it. He loved to talk to people and that was what he did during his leisurely time tending the bar, though he did work with other people. Most of the time, he just idly stood at the bar, wiping it down with his hands, something that a normal wizard probably wouldn’t do, but most of the people that frequented the bar and even some of the staff didn’t really see much of a problem with that, mostly because they all thought him to be a wizard. They just thought it was something he could do to keep himself for mixing drinks when there was no one around, which was something that he did in his earlier days. He could never keep idle to save his life.

“Can I get another butterbeer?” one of the patrons said, followed by, “a few shots of firewhiskey and some turnip wine as well!” some other less than cheerful patrons said. Zachary shook his head, brushing his hair out of his face for a moment before siding over the orders with a quick flick of his wrist. “Anything else?” he chirped, looking at the ragtag group with a brow raised. “No, we’re good. Cheers, mate.” one of them said, raising a glass before another patron leaned over the bar to catch his attention. “Oh, excuse sir… could I bother you for some Elderflower Wine?” Zachary turns his attention the teenagers, flashing them a smile like he usually did. He had seen them before, since he never forgot a face. “Here you are, if you need anything else ladies then... don't be afraid to ask.” he said winking to them before turning away to clean one of shot glasses, leaving them in giggles. He was only be nice to them, not doing anything else. He was hardly one that would flirt with teenagers and he wasn't even one to date, he was just one that liked conversation.

It had been a bit of a busy night for Zachary, though it was probably just because there were pretty girls at the bar and the other usual costumers ready for a night of drinking their woes away. It was just about time for the rest of Hogsmeade to close and that meant there would be more business around these parts soon enough and some of the returning guests that were staying at the Hog’s Head, of course. Most of them would want to have a few drinks as well, which wasn’t uncommon, of course. As they meandered in, the twenty-three year old male hustled around, getting drinks out to the tables while the other staff dealt with the food and checking people in for the night while Aberforth sat in his office. There would be no help tonight, it seemed.

As people filtered into the inn and pub, Zachary hurried about busily, though when he heard a familiar voice chimed in his ear he turning a bit, a grin flashed on his lips. He wasn't really sure what to think of the teenager, but it was better than what he thought about the others at the bar at the moment. She was at least interesting and not exactly here for him. “... well, sure.” Zachary muttered, looking at her for a moment pulling a shot glass from the bar, pouring her a shot. "Rough day at Madam Puddifoot's?" he said, turning his head slightly to look at the man that entered with her, "... or something else?"

WORD; eighthundredsomething. :/
OUTFIT: ... I don't know, use that imagination! Probably white shirt, haphazardly rolled up sleeves complete with a bowtie... black pants, black shoes.
SIDE NOTES: ... nope.

[CHANDLER CORA CALLAGHAN]

Leave it to one elderly man to upset the delicate balance that Chandler had been able to form after her new life had begun. While in New Zealand Chandler had been carefree and in the highest of spirits, drunk on life and the fact that she fulfilling her dreams and aspirations. Dealing with dragons was a careful business and even the loosest of acquaintances knew that Chandler was foreign with that word careful. She didn't necessarily believe that it had been her sole fault that the mauling had occurred. The Antipodean Opaeleye had been nearly starved and in times of hunger they were known to lash out, even if they weren't particularly vicious with humans. How was she to have known any of that? In the end fate had been filed against her and she ultimately shared the fate as the elderly man that she had just finished directing to the Hog's Head. He hadn't even spoke about his own scars and past experiences. He didn't need to speak a single word. Chandler knew exactly about the grim realization that he was going to deliver onto her. She just didn't want to digest any of it. What was the sole solution that she had when it came to fleeing from the grasp of reality.

It was a pretty obvious answer.

Zach to listen to her demands, he was the bartender and it was his job to serve alcohol who those were in need of it. She was tolerant when it came to firewhiskey but if each shot was downed consecutively it wouldn't take too long until she felt her head becoming filled with fluff. Drunkenness was a stupor that she thoroughly enjoyed, the feeling couldn't ever be matched to anything else. "It isn't like you could object to my request anyway, sir," Chandler retorted, a ghost of a smirk quirking onto her lips as she stared at him with dull eyes. "I'm a dedicated customer and I always pay for my tab. What a shame it would be to lose such a loyalty because you wouldn't cater to me." She was saying all of this in the humor of good nature, of course. While she was a loyal customer there were occasions where she had to be denied alcohol because of the stare her large amounts of consumption had left her in. Those were the times where a random stranger had to direct her home because she couldn't take a single step without stumbling over her foot. All of those memories included throbbing headaches and instances where she was pored over the loo.

She just wanted a light buzz, that was all.

The shot glass was in her grasp before Zach had even finished pouring all of the contents of the bottle out, causing some of the liquid to splash out onto the counter. It wasn't too much of a bother, he could always pour her some more after the burn in her throat had simmered down. Firewhiskey wasn't very appealing to her but the assortment of wines that pub carried absolutely tasted revolting to the Callaghan girl. She dramatically tipped her head back and squinted her eyes shut as the alcohol traveled down her throat and ignited her lungs. The glass was slammed down with an exaggerated clamor to continue on with her unnecessary dramatics. For a moment she remained silently, knowing that if she spoke her voice would come out as a squeak. That was one of the effects that the fiery drink had on her. A false excitement was excitement flickered in her eyes, triggered by the alcohol and the effect that it had on her. "Madam was hardly a bother today. She didn't even complain when I tore my apron off after it got snagged on one of the cabinets. Over all the tea shop had a slow day too. So I really can't complain about work," Chandler said to Zach, dragging a finger through the tiny puddle of firewhiskey on the counter. She was being genuine about the long shift that she had spent at the tea shop. Madam hadn't raised her voice at Chandler once and the customers that had lazily floated in had all been easy to cater.

Zach's question trailed off to be left as open ended, his gaze following the old man as he took a seat at the far off corner of the pub. He staggered, nearly toppling over as he tried to lower himself into the seat. Chandler's stare was also trailing after him, she whirled back around to face the bar then slumped down with a sigh. "It sounds pathetic but that old man is haunting me," she admitted, sounding contrite with herself and cross at the old man. Chandler busied herself for a moment that she wouldn't need to continue on in her admittance, sliding her glass over towards Zachary so that he could refill it. "He's like one of those pesky gnomes that refuse to leave your garden, no matter how many times you fling him into the fields," Chandler huffed, propping her elbows on the bar and crossing her eyes in annoyance. There was more of a back story but she wouldn't plunge any deeper until Zach pressed her, if he was even going to press her.

882 words ,
Jedi Third with Zach ,
Outfit ,
Cue the rambling ,