Childhood's End

[Randilynn]

Randi had to admit, the curiosity was looming as to whether or not Scot would scoot in next to her, or sit across from her. She wasn't aware of social norms, so she didn't know what one meant over the other. She sat relaxed as he took his spot across from her, and calmed her anxieties a bit over being detected by Muggles. Well, detected isn't the right word. She didn't figure she'd ever have to worry about being chased from town with pitch-forks. One can never be too safe though.

When the pretty looking waitress walked up to take their orders, Randi couldn't help but wonder if Scot found her attractive. Jealousy. That was a new one for her. She couldn't help but think of how odd this new development was. She only hoped that it wasn't made apparent. That wouldn't do for her, not at all.

She was almost expecting it when Scot ordered a whiskey. He seemed like the whiskey type. The waitress turned to her, and Scot seemed to do the same. She wasn't expecting to be judged by her drink choice, but it wouldn't bother her. "Do you have Guinness on draught?" she asked, and the waitress nodded. Randi smiled "Alright, I'll have a pint, aaaand a shot of Jameson!" she said, happily. The Irish knew how to make their beer and whiskey, for sure.

As the waitress retreated to the bar to fetch their order, Randi turned to Scot and said with a smile. "So, what line of work are you in, Mr. Scot?" she had tried to place it in her mind, but all she could do was place him in a Muggle profession. For some reason, his mannerisms didn't give much away as far as work ethic.

[Scot Sola]

"The lady makes a fine point," Scot said before the waitress departed, "make it two shots of Jameson, can't let her have all the fun, can I?" Besides, Scot figured that a shot would help him find out if he was going to be able to keep anything down a lot faster. He turned to Randi, smiling in that sort of gentle almost foolish manner that suggested he was well at ease.

"What line of work?" Scot echoed, placing a toothpick he'd taken from the bar on the way by into his mouth--oral fixation, it was very much related to the smoking addiction--and laid his hands on the table.

"I'm a trainee at the Auror Office," he said, as if he were saying he was a paperboy. He was under the impression it was quite a regular job, after all, as he had been working towards it since he discovered that there was a magical field in which he could excel. It was a bit of a given in his own mind that he would be pursuing the magical equivalent of a CIA operative, whereas for others it was slightly surprising, since he never gave very much indication of, well, anything at all back at Hogwarts. Apart from his ardent interest in drinking and fucking, anyway, he was not especially forthcoming with personal information.

[Randilynn]

Randi was entertained by the fact that Scot had ordered a shot also. She never let others think she was a pussy when it came to drinking. That was something she had measurable skill in, at least to a certain point. She waited in anticipation as the waitress hurried away to collect their order.

As it turned out, Scot was an Auror, or a trainee Auror, but still - impressive. Randi herself aimed for the office of Auror in the future. Common ground seemed to be all about. "An Auror, that's really cool," she said, and added "I'm shooting for that job myself, come graduation." She hoped he didn't think she was searching for a handout. She was more than capable of securing employment herself. She'd made every effort since she started school. She'd made sure to study the classes into the ground, and practice often. More often than classes met.

Randi was surprised a bit as the waitress returned. She sat her pint down first, it still needed a few more minutes to settle. Typical. Next the waitress issued her the shot, and turned to facilitate Scot. Randi gave scot a wonderful smile as she said "ladies first..." and downed her shot. She would say she did a decent job of maintaining composure. She was used to whiskey, so the burn didn't cause her to cough, or choke like it did in some. She felt instantly warmed by the liquid, and could feel the remnants of alcohol on her breath. In a rather cool manner, she sat the glass down on the table, and waited for her beer to settle.

[Scot Sola]

"I quite like it so far," Scot said, "even if I'm still working with Ochoa; thought I'd be quite done with that upon graduation," he said, shrugging in a 'what can one do' sort of manner. He'd not been terrible fond of the professor during his tenure at Hogwarts--then again he felt that way towards any professor who made him actually do work regularly. He was not terribly fond of school work, which was among his terrible habits that he had somehow kept at bay long enough to reach legal adulthood.

"Here's hoping we end up working together, then," Scot said with a smile as their drinks arrived, "wouldn't want to hear that the dreams of someone such as yourself were shattered," he chuckled. "The only sort of shattered I should be hearing about from you is due to Misters Jameson and Guiness," he said, after she took her shot, and followed it up by tossing his back. Since he took being Irish extremely seriously, he was more than well acquainted with shots, and as such rather enjoyed the liquor.

He then returned his gaze to the woman before him and placed his shot glass to the side, taking up his whisky.

"I have to say I didn't think I'd have the fortune of having such lovely company, Randi," Scot said.

[Randilynn]

"Lovely company? Me?" she said, in a cute way, but she still didn't quite believe it. She wasn't used to compliments. Her cheeks grew red as she said it, proving to the world, and especially, to Scot, that she appreciated the compliment. "I can't deny, I'm rather lucky to have your company as well!" she added, in an attempt to avoid awkward silences.

She took a sip of her beer, and let it rest on her tongue for a moment. It was one of the most intriguing drinks on earth. It drank almost like coffee - and finished like a dry wine. God bless the Irish and their drinking. She was pleased to see that Scot wasn't phased by his shot. She wasn't experienced with guys, but being able to out-drink one couldn't be a proud accomplishment.

It was probably this time, however, that Randi realized a few things. Scot was at least marginally interested in her, from his comments, and constant eye-attention, and she was going to be here for a while. Both of these things were alright by her, after all - fun is a rare thing when all you have time for is your studies. The future be damned, tonight was for her.

Randi withdrew a wad of bills from her pocket, and slammed them on the table in true Irish pub style, and raised her hand for the waitress. "Another round of Jameson!" she said and or asked. She assumed it was polite enough, but she was ready for a good night!

[Scot Sola]

"Of course," Scot answered, as if it were obvious, raising his glass and taking a sip of his whisky, and then smiled at her as she blushed. "Ah, nah, I'm just a moderately attractive guy from Cork," he said, shrugging, "usually it's the accent that ropes in my company but I can only imagine you've heard a Cork accent before, once or twice," he said, being about as blunt as ever. "I figure it's the smoking, since I don't imagine you run into anyone else from the ol' school who indulges in such mortal habits." With that he removed the toothpick, snapping it in two and placing it on a napkin. He would deal with it more finally later. "Nice blush, by the way," he added, taking another generous sip of whisky.

Scot very typically hit on women mercilessly, most probably because he was some sort of nymphomaniac, followed closely by the second option that he was only able to form relations of the physical nature because he was immature. Currently he was merely acting about as neutral as he could get, however, which was to say not really within the realm of sexual harassment. He did really like Irish girls, however.

Scot laughed when she slapped the money on the table, and put his whisky down. "Another? Well, I think I like where we're headed for the evening," he said, sitting up proper. "Only on the condition the next round's on me, however," he said.

[Randilynn]

"By all means, the next round's all you" She said with a smile. No going dutch tonight, this was a socialist table. Without giving it any time to wait, she slammed her next shot, shaking her head a bit, with the burn. It had a pleasent taste to it - she just wasn't used to partying like this. Oh well, when in Rome, right? Or - London at least.

And he was right, she'd heard the Cork accent quite a bit. Belfast - for all of it's history, was something of a melting pot for the Irish, of north and south. He was also spot on about her smoking habit. It wasn't common at Hogwarts - which leads to why she works so hard to conceal it. Only sneaking out when able, to enjoy a bit of nicotine at night, after everyone should be fast asleep. It's the kind of thing one could be ostracized over. Randi liked to avoid conflict when possible, especially moral conflicts such as smoking. Everyone was always right.

Randi was having a good time here, but she was still well beyond her comfort zone, and not nearly drunk enough to wander into a foreign one yet. The awkwardness set in for a moment, as she didn't have the foggiest idea as to what she should say next. It's probably the reason she fell back on the old typical. "So, tell me a little about yourself, if thats not too forward." she said. Hoping not to offend him. He hadn't mentioned much about himself other than his job, and name.

[Scot Sola]

"Good," Scot said, "wouldn't feel right not buying at least one," he added grinning, and whence their shots arrived he put his down quickly, and then reequipped his whisky, looking at her. He had ordered Scots style whisky instead of traditional Irish because he thought it was funny, on a cosmic level, that he would enjoy Scot-made alcohol.

His sense of humor was very insular.

Scot put the glass down after taking a healthy sip of whisky and ordered the next round, and turned his head to the Belfast lass before him as she inquired about him. "Too forward? No, I think I should know forward, I get told I'm rather brash all the time, after all," he said, honestly. "But you'd be the first to out and out ask me about myself, so I suppose since you've done me the honor I should probably at least tell you somethin' worthwhile," he said, and then looked deeply contemplative for a moment.

Truthfully he was not wont to talk to any degree about himself, especially with women. Usually he just talked about them--and most of them were fairly okay with that, for reasons Scot didn't wax philosophical upon.

"Well," he said, after a large pause, "I suppose I should start with the fact that my last name's Sola, and I presume you may or may not know the name," she likely did, his family was rather large in politics in the Republic, at least on the Muggle side of things, and were obscenely rich, "and I used to live down on the Beara peninsula, and have since moved to Cork city proper, because I don't terribly like Sola Manor," he said, with a somewhat cheery facial expression.

All this was also much more than he typically told others; he was not used to being asked about himself so directly.

[Randilynn]

She smiled as he very short biography. She had so far already discovered he was from Cork, or the area around - but she'd not realized he was originally from the Beara. She'd took holiday there as a child. She subconciously remembered a few of the destinations - but mostly the mountians, and the green.

"I've been to the Beara Peninsula once," she said with a grin. "When I was 8, on holiday. We went to the remains of Dunboy. Thats the only place I can remember..." she said, trailing off for a moment. She really didn't remember much of the Castle. It would probably be more impressive now, as a near-adult. At the time it was....boring.

She fingered the rim of her glass for a moment, and picked it up - taking a heavy pull of the dark brown brew, marveling at the notes it played on her pallet. Truthfully, she could begin to notice her head buzzing a bit, and the spreading warmth that told her the rapid-fire shots were starting to kick in. Her grin seemed to broaden a bit.

She felt she needed to deepen the conversation a bit. Pry a little, see what happened. "Sola Manor? Didn't care for the family home?" she asked. It had the tendancy to be a...touchy question, she thought. There had to be some reason for his distaste. She couldn't deny that she would be any less elusive about her own past. Everyone has their demons.

She returned her glass to the table, and found Scot's eyes on the way down. They had an interesting ability to capture her gaze. Offset by his black hair, it wasn't a bad picture to look at. She'd always thought that the details made the man. It's probably details that have kept her alone for so long.

[Scot Sola]

"Ah, Dunboy," Scot said, smiling. "That was my back yard. Beautiful country, though," he said, "not to brag or anythin'." He could always remember playing hide and seek in the ruins. The Manor was nearby the ruins, at least relatively speaking. It was a walk, but damnit if Scot hadn't made it many times.

The round he ordered arrived and he put his shot down quickly, and then took back to his whisky which he seemed rather intent on finishing, despite the shots.

"No, didn't much like it myself. I don't like the isolation all that much," he said, shrugging a bit, still smiling at her, holding her gaze. He tilted his whisky to his lips, contemplating while he looked into her brown eyes.

"What about yourself?" Scot asked. "Why don't you tell me a little bit about Belfast? Or just about you, I think that'd be a bit more interesting," he said, still smiling and looking into her eyes. He found that he very much liked the way they looked, especially when he knew they were looking back at him.

[Randilynn]

Randi hesitated. She half-way knew he'd ask about her, after she chucked a crow-bar into his own mind. She internally cringed. This wasn't her favorite subject. Herself. Her history. It started out alright, but the mid-game wasn't too glorious. She slammed her shot of whiskey, this time, barely noticing the customary burn. She exhaled alcohol fumes.

"Well, I grew up with my dad for the most part. Our house wasn't an extravagant manor, or anything fancy like that. To be honest, this..." she said, pointing to the table "is the most extreme thing I've done in...ages..." It was true too. She was a very isolated person, sticking to the rules, sliding on by.

She took a deep breath before she continued. "My...my mom was killed when I was young. It was kind of bad. Never trusted...these people again afterwards." she said. Intending to mean muggles. They, after all, had been the ones to rape and beat her mother to death. Caught her off guard. She didn't have time to get her wand. Randi would never be victimized like that. Ever. She trained every day to make that point clear. She realized she had an uncomfortable look on her face, so she took a long pull from her Guinness to wash it away.

She looked back at Scot, and created a smile. "Thats basically it. You may be sitting with the world's most boring...student." she said. Deciding against saying 'witch.' She idly went back to fingering the lip of her glass.

[Scot Sola]

Scot noticed her knock back the Jameson as if it were nothing--suconsciously adding to that general respect one gives another person--and smiled encouragingly. He hardly got asked about himself in such a direct manner, but he was rather experienced in finding out about others. Somehow most women he hit on tended to like talking about themselves, for one reason or another.

This was the most extreme thing she'd done in ages? Entering a pub? Jesus Christ. "That so?" Scot asked, putting his whisky down, glass empty. "Well I'm glad to have been here to experience you at your most extreme, then," he said, "though if this is what you call extreme you might think me a bit of a mad man."

After that, however, Randi paused rather noticably, and Scot prepared himself for some kind of awful confession of some sort, and instead something a great bit more grim came from her. Hearing about Randi's distaste for the common folk, Scot had two options: pursue the conversation, even though her reasons why were obvious, or, alternatively, try to get her to relax.

Since Scot wasn't a terrible douchebag he chose the latter.

"I don't blame you," he said, ordering another round, because well, he didn't really care if it was her turn right now, "I don't trust anyone who isn't privy to my dirty laundry," quite an unusual metaphor for being a wizard, "though I would hardly call anyone so pretty to look at boring."

[Randilynn]

When the next round arrived, she hurried to kill it as well. She gazed across the table at Scot. He was playing the roll of the polite gentleman this evening. She had no idea as to if that was his normal disguise. Her head was begining to spin a bit. Telling her she'd slipped off her shoes and ventured into the realm of tipsy. She enjoyed the feeling. Reveling at the fact that right now, nothing mattered. She was elated.

"Mr. Sola," she said, with a smile on her lips. "The Mona Lisa is pretty, but it's boring." she didn't wait for a confused look, or reply, before adding "I may be pretty, but I can still be boring." she finished, taking a long drink from her glass, finishing it off. "Want to know what I do most of the time?" she asked, or, the alochol asked. "I study. I go to class and study." There was a terrible amount of truth to it, that was basically all she did. She honestly felt herself to be ordinary, and boring.

"So, Mr. Sola, I think I may be boring. Luckily, for what I've been told, it isn't contagious..." she said, with a grin. Her cheeks were red, but she had no idea whatsoever. She was lost in his eyes, and her drinks. This was a night for the record-books. The fact that she'd just revealed her most private secret meant nothing to her. Besides, it's not like she was a muggle-murdering psychopath or anything. She was just Randi.

[Scot Sola]

Scot put his shot down and then idly thought that he had outstripped Randi's alcohol tolerance. Which wasn't surprising, since he seemed to be at least double her weight, give or take some math (not his strongest suit, really). He smiled a bit at her.

"Sure thing, tell me what you do most of the time," was Scot's answer, though he thought any pretty girl was interesting enough to warrant conversation, unless they were a massive cunt. Then he usually ignored the talking bit. But Randi seemed quite nice, even if a bit paranoid.

"It definitely isn't contagious," said Scot, pointing at her for emphasis, shot glass in hand, "which is good, because clearly I've been exposed to it," lowering his hand and placing the shot glass next to the others, he continued, "All I did at school was go to class and study and fool around with women, and really none of those had anything to do with how much fun I am. And to be quite honest I skipped over the first two in favor of the third a lot, so clearly I'm more of a one-trick pony than you are."

He paused for a minute, for effect. "Plus you're pretty, which gives you a leg up over me. I can't get free drinks for lookin' good from nearly as many guys as you."

[Randilynn]

She kind of giggled a bit, without noticing it. She believed he was a 'one trick poney' to be honest, but right now, she didn't care too much. She imagined that he was used to the rather...experienced type of girl. She definitely wasn't that. She wondered to herself how long she could keep up the disguise, if he believed it at all, that is.

"I assume you'd like me to have a leg up over you?" she said, heavy on the flirt - probably too heavy, she thought to herself...but she wasn't herself right now, so she didn't mind. She wasn't exactly sure how this was going to go, but she did produce some currency, and order another round - probably not the best plan, but it seemed to be working so far. She honestly wasn't too sure where her limit was, but she didn't presume to be near it at the moment.

It was kind of amazing. For the time being, she didn't have to worry about being a witch, she didn't have to worry about her future, or school, or friends. Nothing seemed to matter. All that was important to her right now, was at this table with her. Her father would surely be ashamed of her right now, but thank the Lord, he wasn't here. She paused for a moments notice to ponder how God would feel about witches and wizards. She shrugged it off and the thought vanished into her brain's darker recesses.

If this morning, sitting in school, waiting to be ushered out to Hogsmeade, she knew what her little...excursion from school would bring, she'd have stayed put. But thankfully, she had no idea what fate had in store for her, so she drank to taking chances.