Sugar Blues

[Scot Sola]

Scot Sola, Auror and proud Irishman, was strolling down the streets of London after work, idly, with nothing in particular in mind, beyond perhaps getting a bit wasted and then returning to his apartment in Cork and passing out.

Such was the typical life of a young Auror in training, especially with a taskmaster such as Rafael Ochoa, one of the Six Hundred, which were a rather... unusual group of Aurors who were mostly comprised of Ochoa's friends from Hogwarts. Scot had heard the stories, and had chosen not to bring them up with his mentor. They likely were a sore subject, and he did not terribly want to incur further wrath of Ochoa, especially not after the whole business at Hogwarts.

Scot yawned, and stopped on a streetcorner, looking around, and leaned against the side of a building, taking out a pack of cigarettes. A deplorable habit for Muggles, and a very strange habit for a wizard to pick up. He was full of those. He lit it, with a normal lighter--couldn't really light it magically without breaking the Masquerade--and took a deep drag of it, blowing the smoke out of his nose. He had a number of odd Muggle habits. Heavy drinking at Muggle bars, promiscuity with Muggle women, owning Muggle weaponry (a knife that he had made with his Muggle father as a child, damnit, he was proud of his Fang), as well as a number of idiosyncrasies that denoted him as a regular member of Muggle society, and made him look rather strange to other wizards. Which were mostly why he didn't share them with casual company.

[Lana ClavesBourne]

Lana sighed as she stared at her wrist. She needed to stop doing things impulsively. She always thought in the moment all of her ideas were sheer brilliance, of course they were the complete opposite when she played them out. Lana had woken up this morning in Hogwarts and instantly came to the conclusion that getting a tattoo would be the highlight of her day. Today would include everything fun, first she would leave school. She had been dying to leave that building and she was the type of person who didn't care about detention. Her mother had told her stories about how bad she had it in school, so a detention for a week-month didn't frighten Lana.

But, of course the day did not end up where she wanted it. Now she stared at her once bare wrist and realized that her astrological sign wasn't something to be proud of. Sagittarius wasn't the most hideous sign of course, but her tattoo meant nothing except spur of the moment. All Lana felt like doing now was buying a pack of cigarettes and drinking vodka. Lots and lots of vodka, maybe with some cranberry.

She continued walking and staring at her own wrist, in disbelief of her own stupidity.

"Maybe I could urn it into something else?" She mumbled aloud to herself. Lana stood on the corner and decided to look for a bar to go to. She realized she happened to stop right next to a young man. Her eyes instantly flew to his hand. Cigarette! She batted her lashes a few times and smiled.

"Say would you mind if you gave me one of those?" She asked hoping he wouldn't be a narc and ask how old she was. She couldn't stand that. She knew she didn't look that young and she had been smoking for quite some time.

[Scot Sola]

Scot turned his head, seeing the girl who had just asked him for a cigarette, and he smirked a little tilted smirk at her. Her accent sounded vaguely American--he was a bit of a cunning linguist, as he liked to tell women when the subject came up--but he'd have to hear a few more lines of dialogue from her to make sure. So he decided, fuck it, what harm could a cigarette do to someone who was already smoking. He proffered the pack of Lucky Strikes to her, after thumbing one out with his thumb.

"Sure thing," he said, his Cork accent heavy, "but you sound like an American, so I don't think telling you how terrible these things are will to me any good," he added, with a smile. He liked to think himself charming, of course, but he mainly tried not to hide his accent too much around people who weren't from County Cork; it made him seem a bit more out of the ordinary to them in the way he preferred.

"Need a light?" he asked.

[Lana ClavesBourne]

Lana raised an eyebrow as she accepted the cigarette from him. She was never going to get used the idea of being the one with an accent here. In New York, sure each place sounded different, heck throughout the country everyone sounded different, but Lana stuck out like a sore thumb here. She sometimes didn't like that everyone automatically knew she was American.

"You know not everyone in America smokes." She said placing the cigarette in her mouth. She nodded at his offer of a light. Lana eyed the stranger in front of her. He seemed tall, she liked tall. Dark hair and light eyes, another thing that Lana liked. She decided in a matter of minutes that she would enjoy playing with this one.

She had a tendency to think of people as play things. Some were very fun and knew how to play back. She loved when they had a sharp tongue as well. "So, did you believe that you would guess where I'm from by my accent and that it would make me swoon and want to sleep with you?" She smirked at him. "Because not all Americans are like that either."

[Scot Sola]

Scot chuckled, taking his lighter out and holding it in front of her, lighting it for her. Once she had her cigarette lit, he closed it, and put it back in his pocket.

He was dressed nicely, at least for a civilian, but he was an Auror, so he had to carry himself with some degree of class, at least enough to garner proper respect from his peers. So he wore collared shirts and ties, but he had a hard time with sport jackets. Suits were fine, but he merely divested himself or a sport jacket today and walked around with the tie and collared shirt, which had, pardon the pun, suited him just fine. He liked ties.

"I am aware, I have a few American friends who aren't too fond of this particular habit," he said, smiling in a friendly manner. "Which is good, because folks keep telling me it's a terrible idea to smoke," he said, punctuating his preachy parroting with a large drag from his cigarette. He blew smoke rings into the air, then looked back at her, "but I don't mind too much. I'm a little tougher than tobacco, you see."

Once she smirked at him, his smirk turned into a slight grin. "Nah, girls who sleep with me after me guessing their accent are usually a little bit trashier than you, American or not. That'd be too easy anyway. You're quite good looking enough for me to put a bit more effort beyond guessing your accent. Though I'd guess Northeastern America," he added, winking at her, "but that's mostly for my own knowledge. I'm a bit of a linguist, I like to tell meself."

[Lana ClavesBourne]

Lana took in a small drag and held it in. It had been 24 hours and 12 minutes since her last cigarette and she hadn't realized how much she craved it. Finally releasing the smoke she peered up at him and smiled almost evily. Oh, he thought he was very good.

That'd be too easy anyway. You're quite good looking enough for me to put a bit more effort beyond guessing your accent.


Her smile turned into her biting her lower lip. He was definitely good and knew how to play the game well. "Yea north eastern. Good guess Mr. Linguist." She said taking a another drag. She noticed the way he dressed. This definitely stood for someone out of school, but he couldn't be that much older than her. Lana had kept her white uniform shirt on and had thrown on a simple pair of shorts. She hated the constrains of clothing and felt the need to reveal her skin. Even though she was embarrassed of her leg. She had her usual knee high stocking on though which always kept it hidden.

Lana played with the button her shirt, using tactic she always had to draw attention to her chest. This seemed to always work on males. Boys or men. She wondered if they were incapable of not staring at cleavage. But, then again that would make them boring.

"So, I want to get drunk." She said simply. Lana never got carded so that wasn't ever an issue for her. But, she had decided that she wanted to play more with him. She didn't even know his name yet, but she could tell that she liked him so far.

[Scot Sola]

Scot nodded a bit, still smoking his cigarette. He smiled a little, watching her play with the button on her shirt, staring. If she wanted to draw attention to it, Scot really had no compunctions against looking. This girl looked old enough, especially if she had a tobacco habit.

He pulled his eyes up her body, slowly, taking notice of her state of dress--probably a student of some sort, she looked a little young, but maybe old enough, who knew. He'd find out, he had a feeling. He was getting to the point where he'd have to ask, he lamented, which meant a lot more responsibility. Ah, aging.

"Are you old enough to get into a bar?" Scot asked, raising an eyebrow at her, playfully. He certainly was, but then again if he didn't shave he probably could have gotten into them underage. The way she looked she'd probably just getin in for being hot, which he didn't exactly have a problem with, he was just a bit of a tease. He took another drag from his cigarette, waiting for her response.

[Lana ClavesBourne]

Lana laughed slightly at his comment. She probably could have 12, if she walked into a cab with her shirt unbuttoned it wouldn't matter. Lana felt a slight sting in her leg and quick drew out her prescription bottle that she carried with her everywhere. She popped two pills and placed the bottle back in her pocket. She always tried doing that as quickly as she could, trying not to draw attention to it. She plastered a smile back on her face before giving her direct attention back at him.

She hoped her leg would shut up for awhile, at least until she was good and drunk. "Like age matters when you're female." She scoffed at his comment. She thought for a minute and then finally decided to introduce herself. At least he deserved to know her name. He did pay her a compliment it was the least she could do.

"I'm Lana by the way." She said staring up at him with her large doe eyes. Some said that was her best feature.

[Scot Sola]

Watching her out of the corner of his eye as an Auror meant he had a very good idea of just what exactly she had been doing with the small orange bottle in her pocket, but since she seemed interested in drinking anyway he decided he wasn't enough of a medical expert to start lecturing her on Muggle perscription pills along with alcohol. He was a bit uneducated on that front of medicine, after all, so he hardly had a leg to stand on.

"You're perfectly right," Scot said, "which means you're old enough for me." He then stood up straight, cigarette hanging from his lips, and rolled his shoulders. He smirked a little.

"My name's Scot, lass," he said, "pleased to meet you," he added, extending a hand for her to shake--or not, it was her prerogative.

"Why don't we go get a drink, Lana?" he asked, after she made her decision upon the shaking of the hands.

[Lana ClavesBourne]

Lana took one last long drag of her cigarette before tossing the butt aside. She gripped his hand and shook it. Scot should make an excellent play thing to occupy her today. This was now shaping up to be a better day. Lana hoped that she wouldn't have to use her pills again. Normally the effect of her medication wore off with alcohol, but then after getting very drunk her leg felt fine. She smiled hoping that her night with Scot would end at the bar.

She wondered if he would care that she was underage. Lana's mind then wandered to the law here. She knew where she came from it didn't matter what you did as long as it wasn't with some 40 year old creep. Lana pushed that to the side. Her shouldn't mater anyway, and she always enjoyed the rush of doing things she wasn't supposed to.

"I vote on at least three drinks. One of which you will be buying me." Lana smirked getting her mind back into now.

[Scot Sola]

After shaking Lana's hand--much smaller than his own as well as softer--Scot took a last drag of tobacco and dropped his cigarette to the gutter, crushing it under his heel, and he smiled at her. "Three drinks, yeah? And I'm buying one?"

Scot laughed a little. "Where I come from if a lass is interested, she buys the lad a drink as well," he said, "so I've got the first round, and I'll let you think about the second one, Lana, if you're interested. To be perfectly honest, I was going to get drunk anyway," he said, stepping out of the mouth of the alley, smiling his white-toothed smile at her. "So I won't be grievously offended if you don't find my company terribly fun. But let's go find a pub and give it a show anyway, why not," he said, and turned to his left, heading for the pub he knew was nearby and was friendly to the general public--he knew more than one pub that was pretty much exclusive to older men who were only interested in getting shitfaced, and he was feeling quite a bit more social today. Especially with this pretty young American thing.

[Lana ClavesBourne]

Lana was excited about alcohol. She loved drinking, and more importantly she loved drinking games. She figured that the two of them would probably be able to play a bunch. And she did love her games. Lana followed Scot towards the pub, she didn't know this area that well and did hope that he wasn't taking her somewhere icky.

She laughed at his comment. "We'll see, depends on which drink you buy me." She smiled at him. "And where exactly are you from anyway? I'm no going to pretend like I'm a master linguist." She joked smirking at him. His accent sounded somewhat Irish, but to Lana it was all European.

Lana did hope that she did not become emotional drunk this evening. She was either two people every time she got drunk. She was the life of the party or she was crying. She was hoping that it was definitely the first one tonight. No need to ramble to an attractive older man about unimportant things to a teenage girl.

"I'm sure we are going to have fun." Lana said in response to his last comment. He seemed to be witty and charming which was always good company. And if he turned out to be boring, well he was handsome so either way fun was to be had.

[Scot Sola]

Scot had a hardy laugh at her question. What sort of accent he had, indeed.

"I'm from the glorious County Cork," Scot exposited, "back in good old Éire. That's Ireland, in English, in case you didn't know, lass," he added, looking at her and winking. He seemed to be a bit of a flirt, to say the least. "And I'll be having a whiskey, since I'm a big boy and need a hardy drink to have any fun. Am I gonna have to order you a light drink or what?" he asked, testing her. He knew several Americans, who variously drank heavily or did not at all, so he wanted to see where she was on that scale he had built. At any rate he was going to get plastered.

"Ah, yean," Scot agreed, stopping in front of the pub and pulling the door open for her, "we'll have a blast, don't you worry your pretty little head. I'm grand company, if I do say so meself, trust me."

[Lana ClavesBourne]

Lana liked his accent. She thought it was very sexy and different. "My dad was Irish." She said trying not to frown. This made her half but she never really considered herself to be anything other than Italian/American. She didn't know a lick of any language other than english anyway. Lana sighed and decided to not think of anything but having fun. Scot was hot and she was going to get him drunk.

Lana had a decent tolerance for Alcohol. She loved taking shots and having a "girly" drink from time to time. Whiskey, she heard him say. Now that sounded good. She could always go for a whiskey ginger ale. She was able to drink those, well, like ginger ale. But, then she had a thought.

"I'll have a glass of whiskey. And then we can start taking shots and see who starts getting tipsy first." Lana challenged him. She thanked him as he held open the door and entered the bar. She spotted two seats by the bar itself and gestured toward them asking if he wanted to sit there.

[Scot Sola]

Scot smiled. "Where was your pa from?" he asked, having a very good knowledge of his fatherland, being a patriot and all. He spoke the native tongue, of course, his father had been insistent upon it as a young lad. He had not minded one bit, especially now that he spoke several languages as a result of his father's odd habits.

"Grand," Scot said, once she assented to a glass of whiskey, and he nodded at her, heading on over to the bar and sitting down. He ordered to glasses and then turned to Lana, a smile on his face.

"What sort of shots you want to put back after this?" he asked, "because it's really up to you. I think you might have a hard time keepin' up with me, to be quite honest," he said. He was taller than her and had a whole lot of weight on her, if he had to guess from rudimentary body structure.