Who: Don and Rab When: Monday night, 8/8 Where: Troll's Head What: catching up Rating: tbd-start it at PG13 for language Open/Closed: closed Status: ongoing/incomplete
Don shooed the cleaning crew out of the pub shortly after 5pm. He wasn't quite sure when Rab would show up, and the crew needn't be present to see him. He poured a firewhiskey and sat down at a table in the corner, looking around at the newly remodelled room. It could hardly be called posh, but as a drinking and meeting establishment it was more than sufficient.
His cousin had been right to question his "respect" for the law--Don had none. As evidenced by the fact that there were, on premises, a number of young witches and wizards, of age, but only barely--he wasn't into child prostitution, which could put him in azkaban faster than his cursing an auror would--unwilling to be there, who would serve the customers' whims, whatever they may be. Don's only rules were no taking them off property, and no killing them.
He sipped his whiskey and waited, eyes on the door, pleased that he'd be seeing his old friend for the first time in too many years.