RP Log - Leanne and Charlie
Who: Leanne Twillfit and Charlie Weasley.
Where: Charlie’s flat.
What: They finally meet after a week filled with loud music and breaking pottery.
When: Backdated to the weekend. Saturday night.
Status: Complete.
Rating: PG-ish, I think.

In all honesty, Leanne didn't know who her new neighbour was. Anya and Angus had informed her of his arrival in passing, focusing more on the fact that their favourite (and for a few months only) tenant was obviously devastated by the break-up of what they had thought was a nice relationship. A little unorthodox, perhaps, but a good one. They'd enjoyed seeing Leanne so happy and to see her suddenly the opposite wasn't enjoyable. And so, for most of a week, Leanne had lived in ignorance of who was living opposite her, and had indeed forgotten his existence until he'd deliberately turned his music louder than hers.

She'd retaliated, of course, and the music war had escalated (and damn him for having actual taste in music, too - Placebo tended to fit her mood for the moment, even more than Rachmaninov) until she'd sensed more than heard his door slam shut and he was gone.

Round 1 - Leanne.

And so it had gone for the rest of the week - and impromptu music war that had gotten more hostile on Leanne's part until the score stood even. Leanne 2, Bastard Neighbour 2.

But then there came Saturday evening and the urge to create edible art. She wasn't fantastic at it, being mostly unfamiliar with the techniques and the equipment, but for a definite amateur, she was good. And this cake? This cake with the chocolate and the berries and the decorations? Looked almost too good to eat. Except she wanted to eat it. But she also wanted it to be admired, and Lisa was too far away (and probably busy with Seamus) and Anya and Angus were away for the weekend and there really wasn't anyone.

Except the Bastard Neighbour (with the good - no, decent - taste in music). And really, he was better than no one. And really, it would probably be a good idea to save her hearing so that it wasn't completely lost by her next birthday. Resigned to the inevitable, Leanne made sure the cake really was presentable, and that she was presentable, and marched the short walk to 137A, where she knocked resolutely on the door, hoping that no one would be home, even if she'd have no idea what to do in that case. Maybe she'd surprise Harry and his new wife with it. Or maybe not, she couldn't imagine that she'd want her first weekend as a married couple disturbed by a woman with issues who had baked a cake to try to solve them. Instead, she stood and waited, mouth pursed, for any sign of life from the other flat.

The first week in his new flat had turned out to be...interesting, to say the least. Between moving in, still hungover from a wedding, and having to buy more furniture and unpacking, there was also the annoying, slightly mad, neighbour. Or more than 'slightly mad' he'd started to think as the week had worn on; it was hard to think anything else between the really obnoxious music she listened to (too loud) and coming home to the sound of breaking pottery. Perhaps not all of the music she'd thrown his way was that bad, with a few bands (both Muggle and wizarding) that he knew and listened to, but that didn't do much to cancel out some of the other music she listened to. Or more likely played at him in what had turned out to be a battle of wills and music and stubbornness. In almost any other situation Charlie would've dropped in much earlier to introduce himself, but Tuesday had been too busy, and by Wednesday night they were well into whatever the hell this was.

He was standing in the middle of his sitting room, hands on his hips as he looked around, when the knock came. Between what he'd bought on his shopping trip with Penny and what he'd borrowed from Harry, it didn't look too bad. And after help from Ron to unpack on Friday night, it was starting to look as if someone was living there now. Wondering who it could be, he called, "It's open! Come in."

Leanne had a silent fit on the other side of Charlie's door at that, screwing up her face and sticking her tongue out. Yet, she balanced the cake with one hand and turned the doorhandle, pushing the door open quickly so that she could once again hold the cake plate securely with both hands. She stepped through the threshold just enough to see Charlie, then stopped. She only vaguely took in the decor, trying to figure out what to say. She settled with, "Hello. I'm Leanne... your neighbour."

He turned when she came in, the greeting dying on his lips when it was someone he didn't know standing there. And then she spoke - the neighbour. He looked down at the cake in her hands, before saying, "I'm Charlie." She wasn't quite what he'd pictured, or at all, really. He folded his arms over his chest as he looked back up at her, "Parts of your music collection are a bit rubbish if you want my honest opinion." It was suddenly amusing to have her standing there, after almost a whole week of not knowing how she even really looked.

It was refreshing to have a neighbour who spoke his mind. And he definitely wasn't what she expected, with the dark red hair and bright blue eyes. Smiling faintly, eyebrow arching, Leanne shrugged a little. "Parts of your decor are eye-searing, but I'm trying not to complain," she retorted, and held out the cake, which was getting a little heavy. "I usually am over earlier with some sort of food but this week's been rubbish so I'm a little late." No, no need to mention she just wanted to show off, or that the rubbish week had to do more with an inability to really cope than anything else."It’s chocolate blueberry cheesecake..."

"My decor's not in the hallway for everyone to see, though," he replied, starting to grin. At least she could take a jab like that without blowing up at him, or throwing a cake at him. "Thanks." He took the cake from her, turning to take it to the kitchen - it was either that or put it down on the sofa, because there were still a box and a few other odds and ends on the coffee table. "So the bad music and the breaking things aren't a regular thing?" he asked over his shoulder as he walked away.

Leanne's response was to roll her eyes, albeit good-naturedly. She really did have it coming. After all, the tribal sounds of the Mugwumbi tribe of wizards in Africa weren't exactly what anyone would call "good music" - it was more like primal screaming, and even then it seemed off-key. She followed him in, letting the door shut behind her. "Well... depends on who you ask, I guess. I'd gotten into the habit of having my music as loud as I want it - it's been a few months since anyone's lived here. Normally I'm more considerate." She paused. "So, er. Sorry about that. As for the breaking things... that was for a project." She wanted to leave it at that, but remembered that she'd had an attack of hating Ian for a good portion of the pottery-throwing. And that had included a good deal of cursing. "I was, er... a bit angry that day. I'm normally that angry, either."

With the cake on the counter, he turned to look at her, "Good. I wasn't looking forward to living next to a slightly mad neighbour. And the loud music doesn’t bother me - if it's something you can actually listen to. I tend to be a bit loud sometimes too with my music." Some things needed to be listened to at a high a volume as possible to really be appreciated, as far as he was concerned. "Do you want coffee? Then we can try out this cake of yours."

Leanne's grin was as frank and friendly as it could be. "See, that's where you're mistaken. I am more than slightly mad. It's what makes me so endearing." She tended to agree with him on the volume part. Sometimes it was necessary to tune out the rest of the world... and music definitely helped. "Coffee would be great. Please compliment me on how pretty it is before we cut it, though. I had the urge to make something beautiful that was also edible... and the only fruit I really had was blueberries and I might have eaten too many when I was making the purée. Actually, to be honest I had mangoes, too, but I didn't feel like chocolate-mango cheesecake."

"And now I know it, so I won't have to wonder," he said, setting the water in the kettle to boil for coffee. "This is a really pretty cake. How was that for a compliment?" Charlie grinned at her, then went on, "No, seriously - it's beautiful. If my mum were here she'd ask the recipe." And it looked delicious, so he handed her a knife and two plates, "Will you do the honours while I make the coffee?"

"That was almost a really horrid compliment... mentioning something about the colour or... I don't know... how the berries and chocolate on top symbolise the innate truth that the two, despite being one, are actually separate entities... et cetera... I sound like a painting teacher I had once. She didn't understand that sometimes... chocolate and blueberries mixed together was just chocolate and blueberries mixed together. But thank you - if you like it I'll give you the recipe to give to her." Leanne took the knife, prepared to cut into the cake. "Oh! Hold on!"

Without another word she left, returning to her flat to fetch the blueberry topping that she'd mixed together and forgotten. She returned within two minutes, and searched unselfconsciously for a spoon. "Sorry, forgot the topping. It needs a little more..." With that she cut the cake, depositing a slice on both plates and then drizzling them with the dark blueish-purple syrup and a few berries.

When she came back he was waiting for her, two mugs of coffee next to him on the kitchen counter. He took one of the plates from Leanne and gestured towards the coffee, "I don’t know how you take it, so help yourself." Leaning with his back against the counter, Charlie took a bite of the cake. "Hm-mm, this is good," he said already loading his spoon for the second bite, "Really good."

Leanne sniffed the coffee, then rummaged around in the fridge until she found the milk, pouring in a splash and putting it away. She joined him, plate in hand and waited until he'd had a bite and made a pronouncement on it. "Thank you." And then she had her own bite, sighing as she contemplated whether it really was good or not. Conclusion: it was. "So, er. What do you do?"
"Work with dragons," he answered, turning to get his own coffee and taking a sip, "Research, mostly, now that I've been doing it a while." He was quiet for a moment as he ate more of his cake, "And you? What do you do that you need pottery shards for a project?"

"Really. Any particular sort?" Charlie had good coffee at least, and the bitterness perfectly complemented the slightly too-sweetness of the cheesecake. "That's a bit of a loaded question. I don't know if I actually have an occupation, per se, or at least not one that people would recognise as one. I'm an artist, and I decided that I wanted to make a mosaic. And I wanted it to be, like... sort of glass but not really. Pottery fragments. And the easiest way to get those was to smash the bits that hadn't baked right in the kiln. They were already glazed so all I had to do was throw them. And now I just need to sort through them and polish them and shape them. It's a long-term project." Leanne spoke between bites and sips of her coffee, unaware that she was rambling. "But I also work in the shop a few days a week because despite the fact that I don't really like working there, it is mine and so I should be around and make sure things are running smoothly."

"Welsh Greens for the moment, mostly, but later on I sort of want to include most of the species - if not all." Charlie finished his cake while he listened to her talk, only nodding here and there. "And what sort of a shop is it that you don't really like working there?" he asked, looking at her over the edge of his coffee mug. He still found it amusing that they were actually having a cake and coffee and a decent conversation now after almost a week of antagonising each other.

"I dated a bloke in Phoenix who worked with a few of the species out there. We, er, didn't last long as he thought it'd be nice if I wore some stupid leather contraption..." She wrinkled her nose at the memory. As she recalled, Matt was really the reason why she hadn't ever dated anyone who played with dragons since. Ironic that she now lived next to someone who did. "Oh... it's clothing. Twillfit and Tatting's. I inherited Daddy's half when he and Mum were killed, and then in August my godfather passed and so I've got the rest. It's a good business, but it's just not... me."

"Not into leather contraptions, then?” Charlie asked, grinning. Twillfit and Tattings…that seemed vaguely familiar – he’d either read about it in the Prophet or his Mum had said something about it. "Yeah, you don’t seem like the sort who’d want to spend your time working in a shop," he replied, "Clothing or otherwise. After the last couple of days it’s damn near impossible to picture you catering to the whims of an uppity Pureblooded customer – or anyone else for that matter."

Leanne laughed, "Anything that creaks like that when I move shouldn't really be worn. Or, at least not by me. I just can't imagine that I would have been able to breathe in it." Shrugging, she took another bite, sighing; it really was good. "I'm not... but it was my father's and it'll go to my children someday." It certainly wasn't anyone's fault that Hieronymous and Cecilia Twillfit hadn't been able to have more children after Leanne. It would have been convenient but it was her responsibility to make sure that it lasted until the next generation. "What sort of work could you see me doing then... based on the last few days?"

In all honesty, she wasn't bad with any customer. She simply wasn't into the shop, heart and soul.

"I don't know," he shrugged, "Something where you can follow your own head?" Laughing, Charlie finished his coffee, before saying, "Let me get back to you on that one. Ask me again after I've lived next to you for a few months."

Charlie was closer than he knew, considering that she'd gone to America on a whim and then came back for the same reason, and that each career change since had been her following her instincts, instead of what made good sense. She'd been good in her position for the Minister, but she hadn't been happy. And for a few months, she'd been happy - really happy - with her life. Until now, when all she was truly happy with was her art. A shadow of this crossed her face; she hid it in her coffee cup until she was certain it had passed. "I'll do that, then," Leanne promised. "And you can tell me if your first instincts were right."

"We've got a deal, then," Charlie nodded with a smile. "Fair warning, though - if you come over with a cake like this I'll probably tell you whatever you want to hear." His first impressions about people tended to be right - or at least not far off the mark - and he found himself looking forward to finding out if he'd be right about this new neighbour of his.

Leanne choked on a laugh, coughing and clearing her throat with a large sip of coffee. "That's good to know," she finally managed, pleased, as that was really the sort of compliment a cook likes to hear. "Anyway... I'm just across the hall and if you need anything - cup of sugar, a piece of cake, a chisel... just pop over. My door's usually open and if it's not open it's unlocked and knocking only interrupts me so just come in."

"I will, thanks," he replied, fully intending to take her up on the offer, "And you obviously know where I am now, so feel free come over for coffee. Or alcohol," he added with a grin. "Just don't expect to find food that's not take-aways."

Leanne tossed her head, pursing her lips in a smile. "Or something that your mum made?" But Lea was already planning on making sure that when she made something, it wasn't just Lisa or Graham or Adrian or Demelza that she called upon to help eat it. Not that she had anything against a good take-away curry, it just soothed her to cook. And she'd been cooking a lot, lately. "I'll leave you to... whatever you were doing, then."

Laughing, he amended his statement, "Or something that my mum made. But that usually doesn't last for very long." He pushed himself away from the counter that he'd been leaning against to walk with her to the door. "That would be the really exciting business of unpacking the last of my things so that I'll actually find what I need in the morning."

"Merlin, you certainly do know how to have fun." She paused at the door. "Let me know if you need anything... food, help unpacking, supervision." She pulled the door open. "I'm good at supervising. It was good meeting you, Charlie. I really am sorry I was such a bint this week."

"I will." Resting his hand against the open door, he looked at her and smiled, "Same here. And don't worry about it - I think we're about even now."

"See you." With that she stepped across the hall and turned the handle on her door, looking back just once to grin at him before letting it shut behind her. It was nice, having a nice, fit neighbour.

"Bye." Charlie watched her go, only stepping back and closing the door to his own flat when she was gone.