WHO: Robert Stebbins and Roger Davies WHEN: July 6, 2005 WHERE: Robbie's favourite pub WHAT: cricket and conversation RATING: PG STATUS: in progress
corpsdelite Roger apparated to Staffordshire in anticipation of muggle ale, cricket and conversation to get his mind off his troubles. Not that he had any real troubles to speak of. Work was work and Morag was the best he could expect at the moment. Likely no more nor less than he deserved. But aside from all that, Robbie would understand. His responsibilities were vast and held their own traumas.
The pub was already loud with cheers for England and Roger glanced quickly at the television before he looked around for his mate. Not seeing him yet, Roger found a table near the corner and pulled his wand discretely enough to cast a quick privacy charm. He wasn't worried about the muggles around them but this was for their own safety. The last thing he wanted to do was have to Obliviate half of the patrons in Newcastle-under-Lyme for hearing something they shouldn't.
Divying his magical money from the muggle notes he carried as a precaution, Roger caught the barmaid's attention and ordered while he waited.
_stebbins Though the pub was less than a mile away from his flat, Robbie didn't particularly want to chance the time alone away from his wards or walking by himself, the paranoia that he would still be attacked hadn't faded. Luckily he was meeting an MAB official in a Muggle area, so the chances that he'd be killed were slim, but he still worried. It was for that reason he Apparated the short distance, appearing into existence again in the dishevelled alleyway to the side of the pub, and ducking inside the side door quickly so that he would be safely surrounded by people.
He made his way past a group of builders taking up residence near the television, their loud conversation about the merits of the England wicket-keeper earning them an agreeing nod from Robbie as he stepped around them. Noticing Roger near the corner, Robbie sighed a little in relief that he wouldn't have to wait nervously for his friend to arrive, and slid into the seat opposite. He tried to smooth out his shirt, slightly crinkled as it was, only now realising. The care he usually took in his appearance had been distinctly slack recently, but seeing Roger made him consider it a bit more, the other bloke looking more put-together.
As the barmaid brought over Roger's drink, Robbie ordered his own pint, and wanly bobbed his eyebrows once at Roger. "So, you been alright then, mate?"
corpsdelite Roger was half eyeing the crowd and half watching the door to make sure he caught Robbie the moment he entered. There was eye contact and a nod of greeting as Roger took in Robbie’s appearance with speculation. He winked at the barmaid, even if she was old enough to be his mother. She was pretty and had a figure most witches half her age would use a glamour for. There would be a decent tip coming her way before they left without her needing to tell him some sob story about her wee ones at home.
"I've been well," Roger answered, taking a drink from his glass. He really should get back in the habit of getting out to these muggle pubs. They brought him back to his roots. Something he didn't want to forget.
"Better than you, by the looks of it. No offense intended." Roger nodded toward Stebbin's disheveled shirt. "Want to tell me why you're not at work? I thought things were calmer in your office lately." They were close enough mates that secrets weren't an issue. If Robbie needed to get something off his chest and obliviate him later for it, Roger would likely agree. No bloke should have to carry around all the burdens of the Ministry.