Characters: Alexander Higgs & Alicia Spinnet Setting: 2 a.m. | Jan. 4 | The Prophet Summary: Alicia catches the straight-laced editor drinking at the office.
It had been a very, very long night, and Alex had sent off the last of his staff about half an hour ago. He really should have been heading home himself, but he had too much paperwork to catch up on, and he’d just sit in his tiny flat and fret about everything left undone at the office.
But he hadn’t been able to focus on it so far. His eyes stole to an assortment of holiday gifts his secretary had left out to remind him he still had thank you cards to write. Most of his small circle of friends and family had taken to sending him gifts at the office; at least they’d be assured he’d gotten them.
He gave up, heading over to one package and rifling through it. He preferred wine, but an old school friend had sent him a bottle of cognac. He found a glass and poured himself a measure of it, sinking back into his chair and staring out the window.
For Alicia the night had been slow. Monday after New Year’s celebrations generally were. People were busy nursing themselves back to health after hibernation and excessive gluttony in order to make the Jan 4th work day. With her usual hot spots proving to be a bust she prompted for a walk through Wizarding London. In doing so she managed to spot a very familiar light in a very familiar window. With a glance at her watch she forwent the night photography and decided to interrupt whatever nonsense Alexander Higgs was inflicting himself with.
It’d been awhile since she’d visited the Daily Prophet offices. The Minister of Magic puff piece (http://asylums.insanejournal.com/icb/10218.html#cutid1) went to (http://asylums.insanejournal.com/oocb/4593.html) Witch Wizard in the form of a November cover story. She’d also made a point to focus more on photography the last few months as those were easier to sell to various tabloids. So… needless to say she’d missed bothering Alexander Higgs with nonsense pitches.
“Happy New Year!” She called out in a triumphantly intrusive manner as she swung his office door open and let herself in. She’d made note that there weren’t other staff members in the building - so being loud would not be a problem.
Alex cringed while his back was still to the door and Alicia. Of course she’d show up the one night he’d decided to be a degenerate, after not coming near the place for ages. “The new year started several days ago,” he reminded her as he swung the chair to face her, not bothering to hide the glass in his hand. The bottle was on the damn desk anyway, several drinks short of being full. “And you missed deadline by…” He glanced at his watch and decided math was for people who hadn’t had a few glasses of cognac. “However long ago 1 a.m. was.”
Alicia was quick to notice the glass and then the bottle and a sly grin crept over her face. “Well good,” she offered, “Because I didn’t bring photographs worth selling - unless you want a really good one of a homeless guy peeing on the Ministry Gates…” She went to ruffle in her bag for the print as she approached his desk. “It’s almost a Norman Rockwell experience….really...”
“I’ll pass, thanks,” he said dryly. “And you’d better not be going for your camera now.” Alex wasn’t exactly a household name or face, but there’d be a few tabloids that might like evidence that he’d been drinking at work. Even if she’d probably have to explain to a few of them who he was.
Alicia snorted in amusement as she stopped at the edge of his desk and stopped looking through her bag. “How are you, Higgs?” she asked knowing full well she wasn’t prepared to pitch anything to him. She was pretty sure she might have sold that print of the peeing man earlier in the week to a barista down the street. Taking hold of his cognac bottle to read the label, “Feeling good are you?”
Alex scrunched up his nose, giving her an annoyed look that belonged on an 8-year-old boy’s face instead of a 36-year-old man’s. “I am not drunk,” he informed her as he finished his glass and set it back on the desk. “Yet.”
He took the bottle back from her but didn’t pour any yet, peering at the label himself. “Why do people give me this stuff?” he asked rhetorically. “It’s like they think, what’s the most pretentious-sounding liquor I can think of? I’ll give that to Higgs. He’ll like that.” He was drinking it, though, so the argument fell down there. He certainly didn’t buy this stuff himself, though.
While he thought outloud Alicia had placed her bag down and moved to his stack of Christmas gifts. Locating the unwrapped gift (http://asylums.insanejournal.com/commb/47665.html#cutid1) she’d sent him. With a shrug she approached and began opening his gift, “Take it as a compliment - people think you’re a classy bloke with classy taste. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Holding up the unwrapped mug she added, “See? I got you a mug… the classy kind that even I can drink cognac out of.” She proceeded to take the bottle from him and poured him another and then went to fill the mug.
He took the glass back, holding it up in thanks before taking another swallow of it. “Good, I can skip your thank-you note,” he said, slumping down a little in his chair. He loosened the knot of his tie and pulled it down a little way before unbuttoning the collar, too. “Drag up a chair, since you seem to be staying. What are you doing here, anyway?”
Sipping from the mug Alicia pulled up a chair and sat, “Meh - the night was slow and your light was on. So, here we are.” She offered with no particular explanation. Truth was, she simply didn’t have anywhere else to be. Her evenings generally lasted till sun-up so she had some hours to kill. And clearly - bothering a drunk Alexander Higgs was far too amusing to pass up.
“So, did you have a good holiday? Or did you hide up here the whole time?”
“I think the fact that most of my gifts are at the office ought to give you an idea,” Alex replied. “I ought to have an apartment built on here or something. Or just partition off a portion for a bed.” Apparently alcohol didn’t affect his ability to use words like “partition,” although they were starting to be interestingly enunciated.
“Had dinner with my mother,” he admitted in a moment. “Then hurried back to work on the slowest news day of the year. You’d get it if you met my mother.”
“You’ve got a mother of the year, too, huh?” she asked with a bemused grin at his openness.
“She drinks too much at the holidays,” Alex said, and the humor of that statement was not lost on him as he finished his glass. “It makes them alternately depressing and interesting, but not a great deal of fun.” He offered her the bottle after he’d refilled his glass. “How about you? Your mother of the year play into your holiday plans, or did you have a better time than me?”
She downed what was left in her glass before taking the bottle and filling up as she answered, “Mmm- Mum’s been dead for awhile. Dad’s a prick that doesn’t show up for holidays. So… I’m sure you can deduct with that articulate brain of yours how much better mine was.” She offered a sardonic sort of grin and a raise of her eyebrows as she placed the bottle back in front of him.
“Sorry,” he said with that slightly awkward grimace some people get when they don’t know what expression to wear. He didn’t really know enough about Alicia to know what not to bring up, for the most part.
Alicia offered a wave of her hand. Dead relatives and shitty parents weren’t exactly a taboo subject - they just were a thing. “No,” she added as she leaned back into her chair, “I had dinner with my sisters then rushed back to my place to watch wivi with my roommate who happens to be a house elf. D’you have siblings, Higgs?” The last part was thrown in once she realized she genuinely didn’t know the answer.
He snorted at the question about siblings, though. “Five that I know of,” he answered. “Probably more. I don’t know if my father ever kept track properly, or if he simply acknowledged the ones who showed up at his door.
“Half-siblings,” he added in another moment. “Some of them have dealings with the ‘legitimate’ family. I haven’t since I was about 15.”
“Ah,” Alicia nodded with a particular interest to her grin, “So there is a secret life of Alexander Higgs hidden under all that seriousness. Tell me more...” She sipped at her coffee mug of cognac with a giddy sort of anticipation - as if he were telling her an adventure tale before bed.
He supposed not too many people outside of his family circle knew the story; the Higgs family preferred to sweep sordid details under the rug. Still, he didn’t know if it was a secret life. “Not much to tell,” he said with a shrug. “I was a resentful teenager who didn’t like being examined and trotted out at my father’s whim. I told him to go to hell, and he decided he didn’t want my bad influence around his real family.”
He undid the buttons at his wrists now, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows. “I talk to some of my siblings sometimes, but none of us were raised together. I know my cousins better than my brothers and sister.”
“Wait,” Alicia straightened her posture as if it would help her understand the details he’d shared, “So, your dad just spawns children every which place and he was concerned you’d be a bad influence?” A frown followed once she said it all out loud, “Sorry, but that’s shite.”
She quickly added with a little more pep, “You are going to put that in your memoirs right? Because… that’s good stuff. Alexander Higgs: The Brother of Many.” Her hand moved across the air as if displaying a shiny title to a billboard or marquee.
“There’s a reason I don’t talk to him anymore,” Alex replied, taking another swallow of his liquor. Some little voice in his head was telling him he’d had enough; he was sharing personal details with Alicia Spinnet, of all people. But it felt sort of good to unload it a bit; his close friends already knew all the details, and he didn’t like to rehash them for no good reason. It wasn’t as though anything ever changed.
He rolled his eyes at the suggestion of memoirs. “The only bits of my life anyone would be interested in are the soap-opera-ish parts. Otherwise it’s all, ‘remember the importance of checking facts, kids!’ and ‘no, over is not the same as more than.’” He gestured with his glass as he spoke, but stopped as it became evident he was going to spill.
Alicia snorted at his almost spill. “Everyone’s memoirs are based on soap opera bits. I bet you could give them all a run for their money.”
She raised her glass to her mouth and paused just long enough to ask, “Do you ever write for fun? I don’t think I’ve ever read anything you’ve written outside of the prophet.”
Fun? Alex didn’t have time for fun. Well, he didn’t have time for what most people considered fun; he did actually enjoy his job a great deal, even when shouting and griping and working ungodly hours. “This is fun,” he said with a grin, this time using the hand that wasn’t holding a drink to gesture toward the newsroom outside his office door. “Yes, there are a billion press releases and budget meetings and stupid people trying to convince you they’re worth half a page based solely on their name…”
He leaned forward, balancing his arms on his knees, holding the glass in both hands now as he looked at Alicia, his voice a little thick. “But then there’s that moment when something actually happens, and you rush around like mad trying to piece it all together before you hit deadline, while half the people are telling you to mind your own business and the other half are demanding to know why you haven’t told them all about it sooner… That’s the fun part.”
“Aw,” Alicia cocked her head to the side at his enthusiasm, “You’re a romantic!” Her grin turned into a smile, “I never pegged you as one.” It was a mild tease as she sipped her drink.
“Was this always the plan for yourself? Being a newspaper man?”
“Oh, I’m sure I wanted to be other things as a child,” Alex responded. “I think I remember telling my father one year I was going to open a delicatessen in the Muggle underground… Although that might have been solely for his reaction, given the look on his face. But probably since I was thirteen or fourteen.”
He almost asked about her, if she’d always wanted to be a photographer, but he remembered about her quidditch career in time. And he wasn’t quite drunk enough to bring up that, although just barely.
“Why won’t you take a regular job here?” he asked instead, frowning at her. “You’d be so good at it, if you’d stop chasing celebrities and chase politicians instead. Corruption instead of scandal. It would be fun.”
Alicia offered a small chuckle, “I’ve thought about it.” A shrug followed, “But, I like being my own boss. No offense, I’m sure you’re an incredible employer, but …” She laughed slightly, “No... “
“Trust me, we’ll like each other much better this way.”
“Do you even like me now?” Alex asked without rancor, his expression slightly bemused. Probably a stupid question to ask of someone drinking with you, but social skills had never been Alex’s strong suit. “Still wish I could get you off the celebrity beat and onto something with some substance to it, freelance or not.”
“Alright,” she snorted in amusement. “You tell me what you think I should be working on then. Come on…”
She wasn’t in the least offended by his interest in turning her from the journalistic dark side.
Alicia had this conversation with a few people before over the last few years. It was always amusing to hear what they thought she should be doing.
“Investigative journalism,” Alex said instantly, his eyes brightening a little. “Like those pamphlets someone’s using to leak things - where are they coming from and what’s the real agenda? Or where the budget for road repairs keeps getting diverted. Unsolved crimes. Even scandal, assuming it’s somehow interfering with something besides a television show. Anything, really. Pick something that interests you.”
“Wait, how are any of those any different than what I already do?” she asked with a short laugh. “I’d still be intruding on people’s privacy… cept with your route the photos I’d be taking would have a higher chance of being arrested or killed for.”
“You’d be intruding on people’s privacy for a purpose,” Alex countered. He’d stopped drinking by now, distracted by his favorite subject. “And I’m not asking for anyone to get themselves killed… Arrested, perhaps,” he admitted, giving her a slightly cheeky grin. “But really, you put yourself in spots you can get arrested already.”
Alicia laughed, “Alright, only sometimes! I’ve actually been very good the last few months. I’ll have you know I’ve done more hired work than the paparazzi stuff. The Minister piece you passed on went well, and I’ve got a few photo jobs coming up. Grown up contracts in studios and everything.”
“I know it did. I read it,” Alex told her. He didn’t regret passing on it; it was the sort of fluff piece the Ministry wanted them to do that would ruin their sometimes-shaky credibility. But it was well done; she was quite good at her job. “You can’t blame me for trying. Just remember if there is something like that you want to do…”
“Alright then, the morning I wake up and realize I need stability in my career goals I’ll give you a call,” she nodded and raised her glass to him.
“In other words, when you get old and boring,” he joked, but he raised his glass in return, after figuring out where he’d set it down. He leaned back in his chair again, but pulled out his wand to summon a third chair, positioning it between them. He propped his feet up on this one, but left Alicia enough room to do the same if she wanted. “I promise most jobs here don’t drive you to drink in your office after hours.”
“Well, then I’m definitely not calling you anytime soon,” Alicia teased from behind her glass as she put her feet up next to his. “The only reason to work here would be to have good reasons to drink. Surely, you’re not drinking for fun...”
“I’m drinking because it was a long day,” Alex replied. “And for some reason, I think I have to stay, when I have a staff of... “ He paused to try to remember the number, then waved it away. “However many people. I have a staff, and I still stay all hours, and I practically live here. I should turn the adjoining office into a flat. So I’m having a drink after work where I live, instead of going to my flat, where I just sleep.”
“You do realize how depressing that sounds, right?” she offered with amusement. “I think you need a vacation, Higgs. Like a real one - where you can’t be a newspaper hound, you have to drink for fun, and you most definitely are given the opportunity to get laid.”
“You mean banish myself from the country?” Alex asked, his own voice amused. “It’d probably have to be somewhere quiet; I’ve managed to spot breaking news on vacations before.” He shrugged a bit. “Might if I had anyone to go with, but I’m not really a partying type, if you can’t guess that.” And he didn’t want to tell her about the last chance he’d had to get laid.
“Well, we’ll have to find you someone to go with then, to distract you from all the breaking news.” she grinned making note of how loose his tongue was at the present. “Come on then - what’s your type? Gingers? Blondes? Brunettes?”
Alex made a face at her, shaking his head. “Don’t be crude,” he told her, although that wasn’t quite the word he wanted. He knew he was drunk when he was using the wrong words. “Who cares about hair?” Although he didn’t really like bleached blonde hair. He didn’t see the point; everyone knew it wasn’t natural.
“I like smart women, who aren’t afraid to argue with you when they think you’re wrong. Or sometimes just because they feel like it,” Alex said. “With a good sense of humor. She’d need one to put up with me.” He eyed his glass like he wasn’t sure what he should do with it anymore; he probably shouldn’t refill it again.
Alicia made the decision for more as she sat up from her seat and reached for the cognac for a refill of her own. “So, no physical requirements?” she asked as she poured, “Just smart, funny, and able to keep up with your wit? No secretly hidden beauty level for the application?” she asked with a smirk.
She held the bottle up for him to bring his glass over, “If you had to what number would she be? Scale of one to ten. Ten being half veela and irresistible.” She offered a shrug, “Mine would be five, but if there was drinking on this vacation I’d consider three-and-a-half.” A self amused grin followed.
He was definitely drunk enough that someone offering him a drink wasn’t going to be refused, even when he was was vaguely aware that pouring himself another wasn’t a good idea. Getting home tonight was going to be interesting, to say the least. “Have you seen my face?” he asked, gesturing at it with a flourish that would have been graceful a quarter of a bottle ago. “I have. It’s in my mirror every morning. And it tells me I shouldn’t be picky.”
He took back his glass as she finished filling it, taking another swallow. “Wait, hygiene, that’s a physical requirement! No one who thinks bathing should still be a once-a-month affair.” He took a rather large swallow of the cognac. “Not that I don’t like pretty girls, but I dunno. I got used to my face. I think I can get used to anyone else’s.”
Alicia couldn’t help but laugh at his requirements for hygiene, but she quickly made a point to add in amusement, “Come on you’re certainly entitled to a number like the rest of humanity. Besides,” she added sipping her drink, “You’re no less than a five - that mysteriously interesting look you’ve got going works for you. And trust me I’ve met much more unfortunate looking, blokes.”
She raised her glass and lowered it, “Come on - just pick a number.”
Alex had never been good at this game. Even in the dorms, when the other fellows were rating girls and indulging in male adolescent fantasies, Alex had usually sat by with a book until Jackie threw something at him to make him join in. He leaned a little asexual; he could objectively see why certain people were considered attractive, but it took more than a pretty face to catch his attention.
“God, I don’t know. A three? Are you supposed to pick below or above you? Above signals confidence, I suppose, but below would be more realistic.” And now he was analyzing a rating game. He vaguely remembered having this discussion with Jackie once, when the other boys were out of the dorm. He’d been hit with a pillow and told he was playing it wrong. “Is it an average? Is five average attractiveness in the bell curve? Five and six, I suppose, with five being where it starts to fall?”
Alicia snorted a laugh, “How about we just get you a five and up?” Her question was rhetorical and laced with great amusement. His overanalyzing would certainly be a deal breaker for most of the women that came to her mind. “Now, I can’t promise anything lasting,” she offered, “But I bet I could link you with a fun vacation lady or two.”
Suspicion dawned that he was supposed to be taking this seriously. “Are you actually offering to set me up with someone?” He shook his head immediately. “No, no, no. It always starts off as ‘no worries, it’s just casual, just to see how well you get on’ and the next thing you know, she’s screaming at you for cancelling dinner plans because she’d invited her parents. On the third date. Without telling you.”
“It sounds like you’ve been through this before?” she chuckled. Shifting the conversation she continued. “Alright, no setting up. You don’t have like a cute lady in the office you can seduce or anything?”
Alex was seized with the desire to adjust his suit jacket, except he’d abandoned that before Alicia had even come in. The tie was long gone, too, and the sleeves and collar disheveled; there was much to straighten, but nothing he could do in a moment to appear more formal. “As someone in a position of authority, that would be highly inappropriate,” he said a little stiffly, uncomfortable with even the idea - although considering all of his words were slightly slurred at this point, his stiff formality was a little ludicrous. But it was the essence of his problem. It was inappropriate for him to be interested in anyone at work - and he never spent any time away from work.
She offered a defeated drunken sigh and flopped back in her chair slightly, “Well, Higgs. I don’t know how to help you then.” She drank from her glass. “According to you - you work all the damn time. You don’t have much of a social life. Therefore, you don’t meet a lot of smart women who could keep up with you mentally. And yet you’re above flirting, let alone getting to know on a personal level, the people you’re with all day long…. People I’m sure include a very interesting woman that can understand all your social woes as expressed in this conversation here...tonight….in this room.” Her hand pointed at various corners of the office to emphasis her drunken but on point…. point.
“I’m not above flirting,” Alex protested. “I don’t bloody well know how to do it!” There was more to object to her in her accusation, and he had to repeat it to himself to remember what else he should object to. “And it’s not… It’s just not appropriate. Leads to problems. I can’t date an employee. It was different when I was a reporter.” But then he’d just been too obsessive. Most people could leave the job alone when they weren’t on the clock. Alex had always put in extra hours.
He blinked at her fuzzily as he replayed the last sentence, though. “Right, I’m too drunk to follow that, I think. Are you emphasizing the conversation, or are you saying I’m too full of myself to get to know you, specifically?”
“I was simply emphasizing the conversation,” Alicia answered with a drunken sort of slowed focus to her words, “I in no way was implying that you were full of yourself. Though I could see where that argument could be a potential route to it as well…”
She paused and looked to the ceiling in thought for a beat. “No.. I was definitely not suggesting we hook up in throes of drunken desperation.” She laughed at the thought before raising her glass to her lips.
If he were sober, he might have been embarrassed he could have even thought that might be an interpretation. Of course, if he were sober, none of this would be happening at all. “Didn’t think so,” he said, taking another swallow, giving her an amused look. “I mean, if I’m a five, you’re at least a nine. You’d probably need the whole bottle to make that seem like a good idea.” He chuckled at it a bit himself, sinking lower in his seat.
“Okay,” she laughed leaning forward to get her point across, “first of all - definitely not a nine. Closer to maybe a six…. and a half. Maybe seven on a really good day.” She quickly paused and waved her hand in front of her face to get back on track. “But you did not listen earlier when I said I average in the five range of interest. So you are completely fuckable - and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. However, in this situation…” she rapidly pointed between him and herself, “I think you feel too much and I have very bad habit of hurting people who feel too much.” She paused a moment to sip her drink, “It’s just smarter… not to let that …. be a thing.” She offered him an exaggerated frown and a shake of her head.
He didn’t think anyone had ever called him “completely fuckable” before, and he wasn’t entirely sure it was a compliment. It was probably the closest he’d ever gotten about his appearance, though, and he certainly wasn’t going to argue with a woman on that point.
“I feel too much?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. It was definitely the first time he’d heard that. Heartless bastard was the more likely epitaph, though undeserved. He wasn’t bothered by the rejection, though, because he hadn’t really been offering. Even if his personal ranking of her was very much based on more than her appearance.
“Alicia,” he began, feeling his way around a sentence that would be awkward even if he were sober. “You don’t have to explain. I’m not suggesting…” Well, what he wasn’t suggesting was obvious, and he moved on. “That said, you are definitely higher than a seven… And remember I don’t really grasp the whole concept of rating someone just on physical appearance.”
“Don’t get weird,” she chuckled at his attempt to avoid the awkward conversation. Not that she felt awkward in the least. Sexual involvement for Alicia Spinnet hadn’t exactly been taboo conversation in a very long time.
He finished his glass and set it on the desk before getting to his feet, a little unsteady. “Wonder if I can sleep it off here before anyone comes in,” he murmured, looking at the distance to the door in some dismay.
“Doubt it,” she snorted as she downed her drink taking the hint that it was time to go. “But you’ve got a nice little couch there,” she picked up her coat and started putting it on as she continued, “... Just drink a lot of water before going to sleep. You’ll be fine.”
He’d try, at least. Set an alarm and get up before anyone was due in. He didn’t have to be in great shape, just good enough to get home before anyone saw him. He might even take a day off; it’s not like he usually took his official days off. “Will you be okay?” he asked, although he knew she’d had far less than he had.
“Of course,” she smiled at him as she buttoned her last button and picked up her satchel. “Thanks for the drink,” she extended an overly dramatic hand to him. “It was very … informative.”
He’d worry about the “informative” later. Right now, he ignored her hand and reached out to pat her absently on the head before focusing back on the sofa and leaving her to make her own way out.