who: Melinda & Luca when: [backdated] Tuesday Evening where: Reverie, then Luca's. what: Making good on free drinks. status/rating: Complete / high
It had been, for all intents and purposes, a long bloody week. Even though the new one had barely begun, the exhaustion remained. There was, at least, movement. She’d been offered a job at the ministry finally, setting at least one plan in motion. Two, if she was lucky -- or a good enough actress. Shay was finally back at the Octopus. Even though she knew Nora would, at this point, be fine (or at least looked after) there was still the lingering feeling of guilt. She felt like she should have been there for Nora before her ex had found her, even though she logically knew there was no way she could have known. More than that, she so desperately wanted to tell Shay, so he knew what to look for - so he knew what Nora needed - but her promise to Nora had kept her silent. It had also been exactly the reason she ended up at Reverie that night, rather than the Octopus. Despite wanting to continuously give Shay and Dean hugs, she was also wholly aware that her promise would last all of five minutes. Less once Shay caught on something was up.
Reverie was wholly different than what she was used to. Not that it was either good or bad, but the feeling of home was missing. It was something she’d grown so used to with the Octopus. The clientele was wholly different, too. Posh and swanky, all of them keen on showing off as though they were collectively ignoring what end of town they were on and felt the need to show off that they were all from there. Or maybe she was just that tired and cranky that it was hard to recognize anything but general annoyance.
Slowly, she made her way through the club to the bar. She had, at least, dressed mildly appropriately in a black dress and heels that were, for her, much tamer than her normal fare. She could, at least, make herself look properly cleaned up for a night. “Whiskey, please. Neat.” She requested from the bartender as soon as she finally made it to her destination. Her attention only left him for a moment as icy blue eyes scanned the faces around her. Though she wouldn’t admit it, she was looking for Luca, curious as to whether he might be the sort to suddenly appear out of nowhere.
----
If there was one thing that Luca loved more than a good party, it was to be the center of attention. Having spent years in the limelight as a Quidditch Star, his retirement had been more than a little of a drag at first. Whereas once he might have been mobbed for autographs and photographs, he found himself falling quickly into relative obscurity. Sure, he was asked to return every now and then to help commentate a match here, or to contribute to an article there, it just wasn’t quite the same for him. It was why when a friend jokingly suggested his drinks bill might be less if he was to own a place, that a lightbulb went off in his head. Not only would he be able to party all night, but he would also be able to get paid for it. He would be able to walk into a room and people who know his name once more.
Which was why, despite the fact that he knew many people might view him to be a bore, but he preferred to spend a lot of his free time in the club. He felt as though it made a good impression to the clientele if there were partying amongst the owner, and some of his nearest and dearest. Like a proper endorsement. Strolling through the club in his standard uniform of a black suit and a crisp white shirt, he waved and nodded at people as he went.
That was until someone caught his eye, a certain someone he had been trying to encourage to join him for a drink for a while. Strolling up to the bar, he stood beside her, though he did not address her immediately. “Barkeep, please make sure that you pour this lady the good stuff from the top shelf, and know that for tonight her money is no good,” he instructed the bartender before turning his attention to Mel. Taking her hand in his, he pressed a cheeky kiss on her knuckles. “Miss Bobbin, how nice of you to grace me with your presence” he smiled at her.
--
The voice next to her was enough to get Melinda to jump. She let out a soft, self-conscious laugh as she turned to her other side to see Luca. A wry sort of smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She watched as he took hold of her hand and brought it to his lips. It was something that was unfairly charming -- she couldn’t even recall the last time someone had done anything of the sort.
“That’s really not necessary.” She protested, knowing full well it would fall on deaf ears. The barkeep set her glass beside her, the whiskey a dark honey that looked entirely delicious. It was ignored for the moment as her attention rested on Luca. She turned from the bar to be able to fully face him.
“I figured I’d let your invitation stand long enough.” She gave an easy shrug. “Do you normally lurk around, waiting to scare birds alone at the bar? Or is that another service unique to me?”
---
Releasing her hand with a smile, he turned back to the bar to order himself a drink before turning his attention back to Mel. Looking at her appearance, he could not help but smirk a little. “May I say, you look most elegant tonight”
Taking his drink from the counter, he slid into the seat beside her before taking a small sip from the glass. Ah, no matter how many times he drank it, nothing could quite beat a 12 year old single malt in his opinion. Looking across at her drinks choice, he swirled his own drink in his glass.
“Well I am glad that you have decided to finally put me out of my misery. As for the lurking you have accused me of, no I do not often do this. Though, you cannot blame me for wanting to join you after I have tried in vain to get you to come here for so long. Like you have pointed out before, it can often be quite lacking in honest conversation here”
--
“Thank you,” Melinda said softly -- her sass, for the moment, temporarily muted by her own bashfulness. There was no part of her that would ever really get used to people complimenting her. So much of her childhood was spent being told she looked weird for her own personal style, as though any witch or wizard could really throw a stone where that was concerned. Or maybe it was one of those things that a mind healer would be keen to know. She really couldn’t tell anymore.
She took a seat in the chair next to Luca, her hand finally reaching for her drink. She took a small sip, letting it the warmth and the sting coat her tongue. It was smooth, and lovely. She sometimes forgot Alcohol could taste that good. It was trouble, really.
“Was it really in vain if I’m here now?” She questioned, her eyebrows raising as punctuation. “Besides, you can’t be universally admired without people willing to play along with whatever you want to get close to you. Or you put your club on the wrong end of town. Maybe both.”
---
“You are most welcome” he smiled at her, nodding his head a little. Turning his body better to face her, he couldn’t help but notice her uncharacteristic shyness. It was most becoming of the normally quite feisty young woman in front of him.
Smirking a little as the conversation seemed to take a more playful turn, he nodded his head. “You do have a very good point there, Miss Bobbin” he agreed. “I suppose you have a very good point there. Though, you could argue for my target demographic, I could not have selected a better location really. I mean, it is within walking distance of most abodes in New Diagon Alley, but close enough to some of the half blooded areas that should they wish to partake in a drink here, they would not feel unsafe walking the streets at night”
Pausing in their conversation, he took a drink before continuing. “So may I ask, after all of my previous invitations, what is it that finally brought you here?”
--
“I suppose I can’t argue with that.” Melinda reached for her drink again, keen to leave it exactly there. She could argue. She wanted to. Instead, she took a sip of her drink. She highly doubted that calling him on such a thing would accomplish anything, nor was she keen on the idea that it might cause a scene. Taking a moment to hide behind her glass seemed the wisest move.
“Well, I--” she started, but paused for a moment. “It’s been a long week.” She admitted finally. She didn’t have an answer prepared for that, nor did she have the witty retort leaping forward to be said. There was honesty, and she ran with it. “Besides, I had to make good on the promise before you got tired of offering.”
----
Swilling the last of his whiskey, he gestured for the barkeep to top up his and Mel’s glasses. While she might not have drank quite as much as him at this point, he did not want to seem mean in his hospitality, not after it had taken him this long to get her to accept his offer.
“A new job? Or your current job getting far busier than anticipated?” he asked curiously. “And there would be no chance of that, invitations for women of your calibre do not have an expiry date, or at least she should not have an expiry date if the man has any sort of intelligence”
--
Melinda let out another soft laugh. Her eyes fell to her knees for a moment, her hair creating a curtain around the blush she felt tingle across her cheeks. She wanted to be annoyed, but compliments had always been her weakness. “I see you’re already reneging on your end of the bargain.” She commented as she looked back up to him.
“It’s-- Both, actually.” She laughed. “My application for a project was accepted by the ministry, actually. In addition to still getting used to being in the shop again after being ill for so long. I’m not exactly great at timing.” Melinda’s admission came sheepishly as she took a sip of her whiskey. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
--- Raising a curious eyebrow at her, it took a good few moments before it occurred to him why she was accusing him of reneging on his side of the deal. “I can stop being so complimentary if you would like? Though, I must say that everything I have said up to now is completely true” he offered, hoping that she would not seriously ask him to stop being so flattering towards her. He quite enjoyed seeing her act so bashfully towards him. It was quite clear to him that it had been some time since someone had made any sort of effort to charm her. “That sounds quite hectic, I must say” he nodded as he listened to her speak. “I have no doubt that you will figure it out eventually, but there is no point in making yourself ill in the process” -- “I won’t ask for that,” Melinda laughed. “I just assume people are generally full of shite when they lay it on that thick.” Or really at all when it came to herself. Of all the ways she made people around her to get used to her frequent compliments, it was something she could never turn around and make herself do. She, at least, had learned to say thank you and let it be in most situations. “Make myself ill? Never.” She shook her head. “My body’s always had a keen way of telling me when I need to rest. I’ve also got enough people who are willing to distract me when they felt I’m working too hard. I’ve a feeling you might like to make yourself one of those people if you’re keen to work this hard just to get me into your club.” ---
“Well, can a man not be just generally charming? A woman like yourself should be used to such complements, yet you act as though they make you uncomfortable. Can you just not accept that I believe you to be an elegant, refined woman?” he asked shaking his head slowly at her.
Listening to her comments about getting sick, a coy smile played on his face. “You say that, but yet you seem to have a lot of people concerned about your ability to rest, do you not?” he countered. “As for myself, my motives for trying to lure you here were completely selfish. I enjoy a woman who keeps me on my toes, yet in our society there just seems to be a lot of women content with being placid. While it amused me when I was younger, there is only so much of it one person can tolerate”
---
“Luca.” Her tone was flat and meant to be something of a redirection, but the smile on her face made that difficult. “That is-- Honestly, I’m getting a little scared you might want to wear me as a skin suit if you keep that up.” It was meant to be joking, of course, but he’d also not been wrong about her comfort level. “Besides, I’m none of those things. Just different enough to be interesting.”
She took another sip of her whiskey before leaning back a little in the bar chair. She rested the glass against a bare knee, not the distance to the bar too far beyond the confines of their conversation to be acknowledged. “They are, and they’re very sweet. Though I do sometimes think that I sleep more than they’re keen to believe I do.” It was, at any rate, what she liked to tell herself. “Again, wrong part of town, I think. In a moment of defense for all womankind, it’s not like society hasn’t engineered those roles for women to be exactly those things, evolution lending itself from seeking the strongest males now to seeking the richest. But,” she began, tilting her head a little as the urge to defend womankind everywhere wore thin at the snippets of conversation around them occasionally broke through. “-- also you’re not wrong.”
---
Feeling a little taken aback by her comment around his compliments, he took a sip from his whiskey in an attempt to determine how best to proceed with the evening. Typically, he was used to paying his companion a number of compliments, before she became putty in his hands for the rest of the evening. No, Mel was something else, someone that would take more than his usual routine. “I am sorry, I promise I will endeavour to turn it down this evening. Is that more agreeable for you?” he asked sincerely.
Sitting up in his seat a little as she began to talk about society, the conversation piqued his interest. “I would be lying if I didn’t agree with you on that point. I was raised by a strong Italian woman, who herself came from a line of strong italian matriarchs. My commentary was not on womankind as a whole, just the way that things seemingly are around here. I apologise now if you took offence from my comment, it was not what I had meant at all” he offered quickly and sincerely. “My Nonna was the boss of the family, and my mother's side of the family is hardly small. Yet at 5ft, that woman was able to command the attention of a room in a way that I have seen no other do. A strong woman does not intimidate me, I just find them oddly rare in British Pureblooded society”
--
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you. I forget sometimes that my sense of humor might be a bit off with people who don’t know me that well.” She did feel bad, of course. She could tell by the way he’d paused that she’d caught him off guard -- that she’d sorely missed the mark with her attempt at the joke. “But, yes. I’d much rather listen to your thoughts and opinions, or stories about you. I only believe about half of compliments anyway.”
His rebuttal brought a smile to her lips -- a genuine one. As she listened, she shifted in her seat, crossing her legs at the knee as she leaned further against the backrest. “I don’t mean to say that you think that of all women. Though there is something to be said for the idea that if it was truly not desired, the women who act that way would remain single and unwanted. Generally, that doesn’t seem to be the way it works. Rather, career obsessed women rarely find someone to share that life with. At least, on the broader subject of pureblood society in England. Pedigree outweighs everything.” It was a sad thing, really. Her face wore that twinge of sadness, though she didn’t pause to let it take hold. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t complain too much. I rather like standing out.” She added on, a soft laugh passing her lips.
“Tell me more about your nonna?”
--
---
“Honestly, do not think of it for a moment more. I know that your comment came from a good place, it is not a problem in the slightest” he said waving his hand dismissively. “Though, for the record I would like you to know that if I make a compliment, especially to a lady like yourself, it is always from the heart. I do not believe in speaking falsehoods like that”
Shifting a little in his seat to better address her, he took another sip from her drink. “I do accept that, however the same could be said for men as well. If men are not charming, funny, well educated or well presented, women can be rather dismissive. I have experienced it first hand in the past where women have rejected me on the basis of breeding, or that they did not see me to be a potentially good provider in the future. I was judged merely on my perceived ability to provide for someone, perpetrating the gender roles once more in our society”
Smiling down into his glass, he shook his head as he thought about his Nonna. “A strong woman, but completely elegant, intelligent and has a way of commanding the room without demanding the attention of everyone. She is quite a singular lady. She is also one of the most magnificent cooks I have ever had the pleasure of sampling”
-- “I’ll keep that in mind.” She said softly, accepting the truce. At least, accepting it for the moment. She took another sip of her whiskey, setting it back against her knee.
“Oh, of course. I’ll never try to say that women don’t have blame in the reinforcement of gender stereotypes. However, as a woman, I like to give more credit to me.” A cheeky sort of smile spread across her lips, her eyebrows rising for a second as a final punctuation on her comment. Her thumb travelled along the glass from it’s base to the rim, a subconscious sort of action as she listened intently to Luca describe his grandmother. There was something about his smile that was honest, and lovely -- the nostalgia and years of happy memories behind it. Her own smile, soft as it was, mirrored that sort of honesty.
“She sounds lovely. And not to be messed with.” Melinda added with a laugh. “Does she live in England, then? Or Italy?”
---
“I think it is safe to say that society is to blame for a lot of this really” he reasoned. “I mean, I as a man, use to have a lot of fun poked at me and the fact that I use to spend a decent amount of time getting ready. If I was a woman on the other hand, it would be essentially expected of me. I think it is important for us all to fight against gender stereotypes where we find them, rather than allowing them to continue on for another generation. I mean, if we go any more medieval with it than we already are, we will be back to arranged marriages before the end of the year”
When the conversation continued to be on his Nonna, he felt slightly more relaxed than he might normally have been in the presence of a pretty woman. “Italy, she barely speaks English. It’s also a awful lot colder here than in Italy, I doubt she would appreciate much of either”
--
“I don’t know why you think people aren’t subject to that now.” Melinda said softly. “I know several people who are threatened with that, should they not find someone suitable on their own.” Though it was likely less than someone from their parent’s generation, there was little escaping the fact that her grandmother had suffered just such a fate on an international level. “In any case, I think there’s a lot of things that have dangerous trends, bordering on medieval.” Despite the somber note of such an idea, Melinda simply shrugged, and lifted her glass to her lips again.
“I only barely appreciate it and I’ve lived here all my life.” Melinda laughed. “How did you end up here, then? If you don’t mind me asking.”
---
"Oh, trust me when I say I am quite aware of that, Miss Bobbin. My parents have threatened to find me a suitable wife if I do not find myself one soon enough" he said laughing and shaking his head. "But I do quite agree though, there are a lot of things that could be viewed as being rather medieval"
Thinking of Summers spent in Italy, a wistful smile played on his lips. "My father is from here, and my mother is Italian. She moved over here to be with my father, though we would spend a lot of Summers abroad. What about you? Have you any family overseas?"
---
“Is that so?” Melinda asked with a laugh. “Do you sometimes find yourself wondering who it is they’ll try and fix you up with? I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself. Talk about a good reason to get hitched quickly.”
His question was answered first with a nod. “My grandmother was from Romania.” She answered, her eyes finding her glass once again. “I’ve still extended family there. My brother tends to stay there as much as he can. It’s been a long time since he’s had any sort of desire to stay in England.” The small rune tattoo on her wrist shimmered, catching her attention. A small smile crept across her lips, knowing she’d likely have a message from him asking what she wanted.
“We spent summers there when we could. Owning a shop made it a bit hard for my da to get away for longer than a week or so.” Her attention turned back to Luca. “Not so different, I suppose.”
---
“Sometimes. So far though, I have been able to evade that sort of pressure by ensuring I am pictured at dinner a few times with a young lady. They seem to back off if they think that I am currently seeing someone” he chuckled softly, shaking his head.
“I can imagine that has been very hard for you” he offered sympathetically. “I feel like I go mad if I go more than a few days at a time without speaking to either Alicia or one of my other siblings. Do you get the chance to visit him often? Or do you simply keep in touch by owls and such?” he asked curiously.
Nodding his head, he could understand why owning a business would make it difficult. While he adored his own establishment, it was far more of a full time job then he had initially anticipated. “How are you finding running your own place?” he asked
--
“Ohh!” Melinda said, playing up her reaction just a little, as though he’d just revealed something truly scandalous. “I see your game here, sir. Sneaky.” She added, a laugh coloring her voice as amusement spread across her features. She was wholly certain it would be dismissed, but at the very least, she could get a laugh out of him. Then, the question of her brother-- it was enough to cause her smile to fade a little. “It has been.” She said softly. “He comes and goes, of course. It’s been a long time since England’s properly been home for him, I think. I can hardly blame him, but I miss him. We talk all the time through the journals, or owls. He helps source overseas suppliers for harder to find items in the shop, so we’re a bit business partners in that sense. Nothing quite makes up for him just living a couple of streets over.” She’d long realised that understanding something and liking it, weren’t the same thing. By now, it had become a well-practiced skill to have the two exist separately in her head.
“It’s exhausting,” Melinda laughed, taking a sip from her whiskey. “But, I love it. I’ve had a few clerks come and go, and it always seems a little strange, even though not having them makes more work for me. I just have a hard time letting things go, sometimes. I suppose that’ll have to change pretty quickly, yeah?” She paused for a moment before adding, “What about you?”
---
“Well can you blame me?” he smirked at her, “And if I was to have to cause a diversion, I might as well make it an interesting one, eh?”. Then bringing his glass to his lips, he flashed her a small wink before taking a sip of the rich whiskey.
Placing his glass back down on the counter, he gently rubbed his chin as he listened to her, taking in every word she was saying to him. “What do you reckon it would take to lure him back on a slightly more permanent basis? As from the way you are speaking, it sounds as though you would prefer to have him here with you.” he asked, interested in getting to know Mel a little better, to understand a bit more about the type of person she was.
Laughing, he nodded his head, understanding completely what she was talking about. “I can understand that. I mean, I have a bar manager that helps me with all of the day to day running stuff, yet I like to always be here on delivery day. To be involved in what is being ordered and when, who is being hired, that sort of thing. The way I see it, and from the sounds of things you are quite similar, our businesses are our children. It is hard to let just anyone take control of something quite that precious”
--
“No, not at all. I imagine I’d have constructed a similar scheme were I subject to that.” Melinda laughed. It was one of the many ways in which she was so very aware that her family was wholly different than many of her friends. Her parents were fortunate enough to escape their family’s traditions, and did not bring them to the next generations.
“Revolution.” She said without hesitation. “Of course I would love to have him here, but I would never ask it. I say revolution like that’s the only answer, but truthfully, I think it’s still too painful for him. What’s left of our family is mostly in Romania. I think that’s more of a comfort than the few cousins. So I’ll take what visits I can get.”
She took another sip of her whiskey, a knowing sort of smile hiding behind the glass. “I think that’s a fair assessment.” She admitted with a soft laugh. “For me it’s-- a little different. People come to mine because they trust me. I could hire a person for the front of house, sure, but it would cease to be the thing it is if someone else was at the cauldron. Not that I would want that, anyway, but it certainly lends itself to a unique dependency.”
---
“I’d try telling them I was gay, but I know my parents would not particularly care. All they want is to see me settled with a family of my own, they are not particularly choosey as to the finer details around that” he said shaking his head at the thought of it all. “I have told them previously, I am quite prepared to settle down one day, however I do not wish to rush into anything”
Looking down at his glass, he sadly nodded at Mel’s comment. “Ah, in which case, I am most sorry Miss Bobbin. It sounds like you have quite the predicament on your hand there. Either remain with your business, or remain with your family. I cannot imagine that choice to be an easy one for you to make. I do not envy you on that at all”
Watching her speak about her business, he found himself enchanted by the way she looked. Gone was the normal sarcasm and defence mechanisms that she seemed to employ, and instead all he saw was what he hoped to be a more genuine version of herself. “I can imagine that it is quite hard to find someone you even trust to host the front of house for you. To find someone who you could rely on to make the correct recommendations and to present the ideals you wish them to present” --
“That’s a refreshing difference from most of the families I know.” Melinda said, not at all attempting to hide the relative surprise she’d felt. “It’s reassuring those kinds of attitudes are starting to change. Here I was beginning to believe that I was the only lucky one in that regard.” If only it had caught on a little more quickly for some of those she knew. “What is stopping you? I mean -- settling down sounds awful, but you strike me more as the sort to find a partner in crime.”
Melinda shook her head at his apology. “It’s -- well it’s not fine, but it is what it is. It wasn’t a hard choice at all. I wasn’t about to leave people here that I love, too. That wasn’t ever going to be part of the plan.” Of course, she let the speech about the people who need help stay just at the tip of her tongue. It didn’t seem like the time, or the place, to talk about the relative criminality of turning a blind eye, or leaving because it would be easier. Nor was Melinda exactly certain he was a person who would be willing to hear it.
“It is, of course. Even when I do, people tend to ask for me anyway. It takes time to build that sort of trust, and I hate the idea of taking it for granted.” Her thumb started trailing along her glass again, an idle motion as she watched him. “And you can call me Melinda.”
---
"Pretty much just that, really" he said shrugging his shoulders. "A pretty face is a pretty face, but faces all age over time, no matter how good your cosmetic potions might be. I want someone who will keep me on my toes, who isn't afraid to push back on me, to challenge me. To date, I've not found that right person, so until I do, I'm not in a rush. I’ve seen too many unhappy marriages to ever want to be in one. "
Nodding his head, he tilted it slightly as he listened to her. “I cannot imagine it makes it any easier though, I mean if Alicia and my other siblings all moved to Italy, I know I would be painfully tempted to join them as well” he explained, before gesturing to the barkeep to top off both of their drinks for them.
“That I understand, while we run very different establishments, there are still some of my clientele who refuse to book parties and functions with anyone other than myself. Our businesses are our brands, and people buy into our brand with each purchase. I can understand why they would want to make sure they are talking to the top person in those instances” he reasoned. Then a coy smile came across his face. “Then you must call me Luca, rather then the skin wearing beast or any other less than complimentary name you could think of for me” he teased, pointing fun at her earlier comment
--
A smile crept across her features. “Different than what you already know, yeah?” Of course she was alluding to her earlier comment, but it was more in jest than an actual assumption. She moved her glass back to the bar finally, allowing the bartender to refill it. It was a level of attention that she had not been paying to anything but their conversation. She likely wouldn’t have noticed until her glass was fully empty -- though she was quite certain she should have probably left it like that.
“You get used to it, I suppose.” She shrugged. “It’s been quite a number of years since he’s left. The people here, to me, are just as much family as those in Romania. I won’t pretend to say that it makes the loneliness disappear entirely, but it makes it easier to handle.” She reached for her glass again, taking another sip before leaning against the back of the chair.
“Our brand?” She asked, an amused smile playing over her features. “I suppose you could call it that. I mostly think it’s because certain citizens don’t want to have to explain to another person why they buy the potions they do. Brand, that-- that seems way more posh.” She laughed, shaking her head a little. “And it was Buffalo Bill, Luca.”
---
Smiling across at her, most genuinely, he nodded his head. “It would just be nice to hold a conversation with someone for more than five minutes, and it not be assumed I am some brainless airhead. People assume because of my previous employment I am not educated. While I do not proclaim to be a hugely intelligent man, I get by on my own and I read a lot in my spare time. Unfortunately though, due to my previous career, I tend to attract a certain class of woman” he said, almost sadly.
Raising his glass as if in a toast, he smiled at her, “To friends and family members, who despite their distance, have not truly left our hearts or our minds”
Laughing slightly bashfully, he rubbed the side of his face. “Ahh I know it is rather a posh way of seeing it, but that was what my manager used to go on about all the time while I was playing Quidditch. Everyone had their own brand and had to decide what character to play for the media. Whether it be they are the chilled, laid back type, the family man type, the playboy type or the hyper competitive professional at the top of their game. Quidditch is as much entertainment as it is sports, people like to identify with a story, an individual rather than a store name. At least, that is always what I have believed” he explained.
--
“I can understand that,” she said softly. “Though, I’m wildly certain that it’s a certain class of people that careers in the public eye tend to attract.” She added, her eyebrows rising a little. It was a correction she couldn’t let stand, especially given their earlier conversation. “How long have we been sat here? Surely it’s been more than five minutes since I’ve last thought you brainless.” A wry sort of smile tugged at her lips as her foot reached out to nudge his, a playful gesture she hoped would convey the joke.
Her eyes narrowed a little as he toasted. She did, of course raise her class, offering a “cheers” before taking a drink. Though of course she enjoyed the toast, there was a certain sort of saccharin nature to it that she’d felt with his lavish compliments. Or perhaps she was just a little cautious of it -- she couldn’t tell with him. It was just as annoying as it was intriguing.
“Well, that’s true of anyone in the public eye, isn’t it? Even reporters and wireless talents face the same sort of scrutiny and fan interactions.” She said, though there was a curiosity behind her words. “I would have thought, in any case, that those sort of constructs would have been broken down with the advent of the journals. Unless, I suppose, your press people have control over that as well -- or, well, everyone’s but Ginny’s.”
---
Smirking at her, he shook his head, “Are you trying to say something about me, eh? I mean, I am afterall a man who has spent a considerable amount of time in the public eye.” he asked playfully, flashing her a smile. “Well, we have been here at least 20 minutes without any sort of insult to my intelligence, so I would like to think I am doing pretty well. I am not just a pretty face you know, I did build all of this up after all” he said gesturing around the room. “I negotiated all rates, designed the layout, themed it all and personally met with all suppliers to ensure we had the best of everything for our price points”.
Though, when he felt her foot against his, he couldn’t help but smirk brighter. “I mean, I cannot be doing too badly if you have chosen to play footsie with me” he retorted, taking a sip from his glass. “Either that or the scotch has lowered your defences enough that you have found me borderline tolerable. It could be either one at this point”
Nodding his head at her observation, he had to agree with her. “The journal’s have made it worse if anything. I know of stars who have teams of media consultants that manage their accounts to ensure that they are saying the right things to the right people. I am quite lucky I made it out when I did really. I would probably cause my teams a headache if I said half the things I say now”
--
“I would never!” Melinda laughed. “I’m merely holding you accountable to assuming that people have to deal with cretinous hangers-on regardless of gender, obviously. I am, however, at least a little impressed with your business acumen.”
His allegations, however, brought a laugh from her -- a bright sound, even as she hid behind the curtain of her dark hair. “It is really good whiskey.” She offered as a coy smile played on her lips, her eyes rising to find him again. “Maybe I’m just hoping I can tempt you into keeping my glass full.” Melinda was nothing if not flirtatious.
“That’s absolutely ridiculous.” She said with the shake of her head. “And is making me question every interaction I’ve ever had with a quidditch player.”
---
“I think that there was a compliment somewhere in that statement, if not it sounded close enough, so I will take it as a compliment. It is probably the closest I am ever going to get from you, I have no doubt” he smirked at her, taking a sip from his whiskey.
Grinning brightly at her, he was glad to see her relaxing with him. As the evening went on, she only seemed to be getting warmer towards him, which was a borderline miracle considering some of their earlier interactions. “Oh, that is a most devilishly devious plan, Melinda. I must admit, I did not see you pulling something like that, yet you appear to already have me wrapped around your little finger already” he said sitting back in his seat and shaking his head as if despairing over it.
“Oh trust me, as ridiculous as you think it might be, its twice as bad behind the scenes. I thought playing quidditch would only be playing quidditch, little did I realise all the brand endorsements that came with it” he said shaking his head. “While it might not seem it, owning the bar feels a more honest career. I can be myself unapologetically”
--
“How well you know me already.” Melinda laughed. “I have to make you work for something, yeah?” Her eyebrows rose quickly, a cheeky sort of thing before she took another sip of her whiskey.
“Oh, I’ve nothing of the sort!” She reached out to take a playful swipe at his knee. “That whiskey’s gone straight to your head, hasn’t it?” She shook her head, despite the bashful sort of smile that tugged at her expression.
“That doesn’t seem so unlikely. Getting your hands dirty always has a specific kind of reward to it.” She mused. “Or maybe quidditch, secretly, wasn’t as for you as it seemed to be.”
---
“Have you not made me work for everything, so far? I mean, I have extended you many invitations to come join me here before, all of which have been cast to one side” he reminded her, trying to keep his face serious.
“I do not know about that, Melinda. In the space of a few minutes you have paid probably two and a half complements, you have admitted that I am not quite as awful as you thought and you have quite willingly touched my leg. Which, when this started you basically accused me of being some skin wearing beast,. I think the evidence is quite strong in favour of you being a little tipsy.” he countered, flashing her a cheeky smile and a little wink.
“Potentially, either that or after years of playing one game, I needed a fresh challenge”
--
“You make a very good point, Buffalo Bill,” Melinda said with a sage nod as she pretended to consider his statement. She stayed quiet for a moment, her eyes unabashedly roaming over him. “I’m paying you far too many compliments. I’ll have to cease them immediately.”
It was a seriousness that lasted only a moment as a smile captured her expression again. “Comfortable, I think is what you’re looking for. You’ve not seemed like you’re trying to lure me into your basement or anything this whole time. I’m really quite proud of you for it.” She paused for a moment before adding, “Well, shit. Again with the compliments.”
Melinda shook her head, before taking another sip. “Is that something that happens to you often?”
---
“You could, but I think both you and I know that the only reason that you are paying me so many compliments is you expected a barely literate pretty boy, who would spend the whole time quite narcissistically talking about himself” he said, noting the way that she was looking at him.
“Well, how else am I going to get a well educated girl to come and meet me? I figured I would have to lay it on thickly for you to even consider wanting to come join me for a bit” he shrugged. “AH HAH! There it is again, you keep complimenting me. I knew you couldn’t have thought me to be quite as awful as you like to make me out to be. I promise you I do have a few redeemable qualities, really”
--
“Well, I don’t know anything about your literacy yet,” she countered. “But I do appreciate that you’ve at least attempted to reel in the narcissism. Really, that speaks endlessly to your self restraint.”
Melinda laughed at his accusation, her eyes falling to her knees for a moment as she felt her cheeks go a little warm. “I didn’t say you were awful! I believe the word was disingenuous.” She said, the laughter still in her voice. “I always get suspicious when people lay it on thick. I’m always wondering when the question about what they really want will pop up. It’s probably a terribly cynical way of looking at things, but I just can’t help it. Life of a woman and all.”
---
“Well I do the stock ordering for the bar, so unless we go under next week, you can at least have some faith in my maths ability if nothing else” he jested. Then placing his hand on his chest as if mock offended, he looked around as if seeing if anyone else had seen this great atrocity. “Narcissistic? Me? I cannot help it if by societal norms, a man who invests his time in his appearance gets labeled as such. If I was a woman, no one would think twice about the fact that I spend a decent amount of time getting ready in the morning”
Smiling across at her, he placed his hand on her knee, “Please, Melinda do not feel shy. I was merely joking” he teased, not quite moving his fingers from her knee just yet. “I believe I had been quite genuine tonight, have I not? I have talked about family, honestly spoken about my aspirations. Has it occured to you that I am just looking for a friendly conversation?”
--
“I didn’t say you were narcissistic.” She countered. “I said narcissism. You should maybe not care so much about societal norms, I wager. I think you’ll find you’re more likely to place these things on yourself than other people will in more than passing. Besides, even if they do, do you really care about what they think?” She paused for a moment, studying his expression. “It only has power over you if you let it.” Of course, it wasn’t so simple -- but Melinda had, in many ways, realized that the internalization of ideas was the first step in letting them go. But more than that, there was something that tugged at her insides, a strange discord between the way that he could lay down blanket generalizations about the women he knew, all the while taking offense to them. It was, however, something she’d come to almost expected from people who lived in New Diagon.
The hand on her knee was wholly distracting. It tugged her attention away from him for a moment as her eyes fell to his hand. “I don’t mean to say that you’re currently doing it.” She said, her hand moving to rest on top of his. “Just that.. That’s what happens in my brain when people do.” She said honestly. “Haven’t I returned it with honesty?”
--
---
“Oh sorry, huge amount of difference” he said nodding his head at her. “I know you are probably right, however people tend to think that someone who has worked in the profession I have, is just an airhead. They do not expect me to have a passion for literature, or to speak multiple languages” he explained. “It can be slightly frustrating”
Finishing the last of his whiskey, he again pointed to the bar keep to top off their glasses again. Looking back at their hands, he was surprised and pleased when she did not make an effort to remove his hand. Deciding to play it safe, he instead left his hand relatively still, except for his thumb that began to draw circles against her skin. “You have, I must say. It has been quite the pleasant evening, if you do not mind me being so bold. The conversation, the honesty…..you were right, it was just what I was both hoping for and needing recently”
--
“Again, you need to find new people.” She said, raising her eyebrows. “None of them I’ve ever met or spoken to have been airheaded. I realize that generally takes a level of awareness that most people don’t necessarily have, but,” Melinda shrugged. “I still get told that I haven’t an idea of what I’m talking about every time I publish a new article.”
Melinda took another drink of her whiskey before surrendering the glass to the bartender once again. It was something she was immediately distracted from as his thumb began to move against his skin. It sent a chill down her spine. “I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it,” she said softly. “It’d been pretty okay for me, too.” She couldn’t let the opportunity to tease go. The look on her face was a cheeky one to be sure, the quick rise and fall punctuating her teasing statement.
--- “Oh, I have quite realised that. But, as you might have realised, society is rather a closed thing at the moment and a person cannot afford to be too picky”, then his smile faded a little as she spoke of her articles. “Well, that is quite the shame. There always seems to be those content with dragging those down, without any need or provocation” he sighed softly.
“Just ok? Just ok?” he teased, a look of mock hurt crossing his features. “And there was me thinking that we were enjoying a perfectly pleasant night of conversation and banter” he sighed, as though it was all a great disappointment for him. “Tell me, Melinda. What would it take for the evening to be upgraded from okay, to relatively pleasant?” he asked, a cheeky look crossing his features as his thumb dared stray a little more towards her inner leg.
--
“Sure you can.” Melinda said quickly. “You just might not like what that means for your social life.” Not that she had really anything to say about maintaining a healthy social life. Her’s generally consisted of a handful of people who never seemed to mind that much if she got too distracted by a potion. For a club owner, that probably wasn’t the most ideal situation. “I’m used to it, honestly. Been getting it since school. It’s just become an extra treat knowing that a girl telling them how to do a potion upsets them so much. Their loss, not mine.”
A bright grin grew across her lips at his mock disappointment. “I thought I was just tipsy.” She countered, that teasing tone still audible in her voice. “I don’t know,” she started, her eyes falling to his hand again. “But something is telling me that just an evening of conversation wasn’t all you might be desiring.”
---
“No, but unfortunately my social life and my work life have become rather intrinsically entwined nowadays. While I rather enjoy the nights of partying, there are some nights where I much prefer what we have currently. It is quite hard to enjoy pleasant banter while both parties are inebriated and the music is too loud” he chuckled softly. “Ahh well, that is their loss, is it not? If they are not secure in their own selves that someone of the opposite gender is better at something then they upsets them, that is their insecurities, not your problem” he reasoned.
“I would be a dreadful liar if i didn’t admit that maybe something further had crossed my mind” he admitted moving his seat a little closer to hers. “Though, I do not believe in forcing my attention where they are not wanted. I am quite content with carrying on this conversation is what you would like”
--
“Oh, that just sounds like you’ve not tried.” She laughed. “I’ve had plenty of those nights on the dance floor.” It was something, of course, that seemed like a proper lifetime ago, those sorts of nights. Those were the misguided nights spent in muggle clubs in London.
As Luca moved his seat closer, Melinda shifted just a little to turn closer to him. “I’d have moved your hand if your attention wasn’t at least appreciated.” She couldn’t say wanted, of course. She clung to the joke she’d started only a moment ago. “In any case, we can’t possibly rob you of the opportunity to be seen with a pretty face, yeah?”
---
While he would have loved to argue something different with her, she was right, he had not tried. “I suppose that maybe I just need to evolve this place a little more, it is still a youngster really, still plenty of time to shape it into something else” he supposed, his hand rubbing along the side of his face.
“Oh Melinda, who says my motivation at this point is simply to be seen with a pretty face? You and I both know you are far more than that” he smiled at her, before he withdrew his hand. While she might not have removed his hand, or explicitly said she enjoyed it, she had not exactly reassured him she was overly comfortable by it. “Though, I do appreciate you for lowering your standards enough for one night, to sit with me here” he smiled at her.
--
Luca’s removal of his hand caused a chill to hit Melinda’s skin -- this one not nearly as thrilling as the one his touch had brought. A look of concern crossed her features as she sat up a little straighter. Concern struck her immediately that she’d taken the joke too far. Not even the smile he gave her exactly calmed that moment of concern.
“I--” She started, but stopped abruptly, unsure exactly what to say. “I have enjoyed myself, you know.” She said finally. “Maybe I thought that was more obvious than it is.”
--
Seeing her reaction his hand moving, he worried for a moment that he had made the wrong decision, that he should have left it in place. Normally with women he found it so easy to read them, to judge what they may or may not want or like. Yet, with Mel it was all still a relative mystery, and he found himself often second guessing.
“Well I am glad to hear it, I have had a very enjoyable night myself” he smiled at her, before his smile faded into a slight frown. “And what do you mean by that, you have made it quite clear you have slightly more than tolerated my presence”
--
“I just-- I was worried for a moment that maybe my joking was sounding more like truth.” She confessed. “I sometimes forget that there’s a learning curve when it comes to me and my cheekiness.”
Melinda reached out for her glass once again, taking a sip. It was an easy thing to hide behind, a distraction. “Maybe I should give a few more compliments, yeah?” She said, a teasing sort of tone to her voice, though she wondered if maybe she actually should. “It’s been a little more than slightly.”
--- “Mel, I will not lie, you are a difficult woman to read. I just wanted to make sure that you were made uncomfortable by my actions, as I’ve had a delightful evening” he smiled at her.
Then closing a little more distance between the two of them, he looked around him as though he was checking to make sure the coast was clear before he continued saying anything. “Oh really, Melinda? Do not tell me that you have gone and softened up on me” he whispered conspiratally as though someone might overhear their great secret. --
Luca’s movement closer was something that caught her off guard. She watched him curiously as he looked around them before speaking again. It was a proximity that caused her skin to flush just a little. Even as his words drew a laugh from her, it wasn’t enough for the color to fade from her cheeks. It was conspiratorial, even though it was nothing but a tease.
“Not a chance,” she whispered, leaning into him a little. “I still like to watch you work for it.”
---
Chewing on his lip, he debated his actions for a few moments before he did anything. One minute Mel seemed warm towards him, and the next moment he found himself not quite as sure. The way that she was leaning into him though, he figured that it was worth a risk. Placing his hand on the back of her chair, he didn’t bother to rush to sit back upright in his seat.
“Oh really? Have I not done a good enough job? What would it take to pass your impossibly high standards for drinking partners?”
--
Her eyes left him for a moment, his arm catching her attention as it boldly took a place across her seat. It was enough for that smile on her lips to turn into a smirk. “Just drinking partners?” She asked, her eyebrow raising. “I think that’s a level you’ve already achieved. I seem to remember there being several whiskies between us.” Her own hand reached out to touch his knee. It was a gentle sort of touch -- teasing in the way that she didn’t let her hand rest against it.
“Of course, I can play coy about that, too, if you still want me to.” She added, her fingers squeezing his knee once before she pulled it back into her own lap.
---
“There has been several whiskeys, you are right” he said nodding his head as if some great revelation had been revealed to him. “I am sorry to inform you than Melinda that you are quite clearly far more inebriated that either of us had thought possible. I mean, you have tolerated my company for quite some time tonight, even if you did have the assistance of alcohol to ease you through” he teased.
Then her hand was ghosting his knee, and he found himself barely able to concentrate. Then her hand was gone and his knee felt cold from where her hand had been. Luca was not one to be out done though, competitive to the very end, he decided to push his luck a little. Leaning forward, he allowed his lips to briefly brush against her ear. “I do not think you are capable of being overly coy or innocent about much for long” he whispered, before straightening up and taking a sip of his whiskey.
--
His comment made her shake her head. It was true enough that the whiskey had her feeling a familiar warmth -- a happy feeling, to be sure. Inebriated? Well -- she’d let him believe she was such a woman who could be made inebriated by a few whiskeys. She could even blame her blushing on the booze that way just to tease him, if she’d wanted.
“Sir,” she said incredulously as he pulled away. “I think you must be mistaking me for someone else if you think I’m even capable of acting innocent!” As he moved away, she leaned back fully in her chair, keen to watch him. “I suppose if I refrain from opening my mouth to speak I might be able to get away with it.”
--- Oh, how Luca had missed this. The cut and thrust of conversation, the banter, the teasing. It had been a great many years since he had felt this enthralled by a conversation with a woman. Usually by now he would have paid her a few sweet compliments and they would have already been back at his. No, Mel was making him work for her attention and he was thoroughly enjoying every last minute of it.
“Ok, maybe not innocent, but you certainly do have a rather practiced coy smile” he teased matching her by sitting back in his seat. “Not that I am complaining of course,. Now normally at this point, I would pay you a complement, but I would hate for you to refer to me as buffalo bill again”
--
“Well, I can hardly try to deny that.” She admitted, feigning guilt. “It’s served me rather well through the years, I must admit. I’d say you should give it a go, but I’d wager it wouldn’t be so easy for you to get away with it.”
This comment made her pause, however. She stared at him as though considering something very important. “You may pay me one.” She said, finally. “And I’ll refrain from calling you a serial killer.”
---
Laughing, he shook his head at her comment, “You would be surprised, I can be an exceptionally convincing actor when I want to be” he shot back, before raising an eyebrow at her.
While he knew it might have seemed a bit obvious that his complement would be about a physical attribute of hers, and lets face it, there was plenty there to admire, he decided to go with something different. “Then, allow me to say that it has been a true pleasure to spend the evening speaking with someone of your calibre. It has been most enjoyable, even if you have insisted on returning my niceties with accusing me of being a serial killer” he smiled at her, before finishing his whiskey.
--
Melinda, at his compliment, smiled. It wasn’t wry or coy, but something smaller and honest. “Thank you,” she said softly. She let it rest there for a moment, as though she would actually let it lay there. It was a moment that was interrupted by a question -- “What calibre is that, exactly? Sarcastic and batty?”
It wasn’t, at least, accusing him of wearing her skin!
--- Watching her smile at him properly, he found himself properly admiring her. Yes, he had always found her to be pleasant to look at, but there were so many things he noticed in that moment. The way her eyes seemed to shine, and the way her nose crinkled ever so slightly when she smiled
"Ah well, I would elaborate further however I was only allowed to give one complement and I've previously used that" he sighed overdramatically
---
Melinda laughed again, finally reaching forward for her glass of whiskey. “I’m very, very intrigued by your ability to follow directions.” She commented. It was one that was followed by that coy smile he knew so well as it was hidden behind the glass of whiskey. “I might have to put that to the test more often.”
---
Raising an eyebrow, her comment was surprising but yet not unwanted. "It really does depend on the person and the instruction, but I have been known to play nice from time to time" he smirked. "Why? Do you have anything particularly in mind, Melinda? Is there anything in particular you would like to…experience" he grinned, a hand daring to stray to touch her knee once more
--
“That’s cheating,” Melidna began. Her attention strayed from their flirting to his hand against her knee. She watched that hand for a moment, her smile remaining on her features as she did. Goosebumps rose over her bare skin at his touch, telling of the chill that ran down her spine once more.
“I can’t just give you that kind of information.” She amended a few moments later. “You have to work for it, remember?”
---
"And how, may I ask is that cheating?" he asked in mock indignation. "I touched your leg earlier and you did not seem to mind. I was merely touching it once more, I can stop if you would like?". Then before she had a chance to reply, his fingers slipped just above the bottom of her dress.
"And how would one work for such a thing?" he asked curiously. "I am nothing but an ambitious individual, I always like to know how to better myself further"
---
The hand at her thigh caused Melinda to pause. She drew in a quick breath, her muscles tensing beneath his fingers. It wasn’t a reaction of disapproval, but one of surprise -- a distinction that would be all too evident by the way she became wholly distracted from what he’d been saying.
“You…” She said softly, distracted for a moment before her attention turned back to him. “-- Might have to be more specific about what you’re wanting to work towards.”
--
Looking at her quite innocently, he picked up his recently refreshed whiskey and continued to sip on it like nothing had happened. "More specific? I thought I had made myself quite clear"
Then placing his glass down on the side, he leant forward to whisper in her ear, his hand grazing a little higher. "What is it exactly you need? What do you desire?" he asked before pulling back to sit up a little straighter, his hand not moving from her leg.
--
Luca was wholly distracting. She drew in a long, slow breath as she felt the warmth of his breath against her skin again. She could feel the goosebumps spread across her neck and along her shoulders. The glass of whiskey was abandoned in favor of her hand coming to rest on his, the fabric of her dress between them.
“That’s a long list,” she murmured, turning towards him as she spoke. “How long have you got?”
--- Feeling her hand rest on his, he decided to not push his luck with her any longer. No, he would take his time and draw this out as long as possible.
"We have all night long, should you think that we both need and want the time" he offered, raising his eyebrows at her. "Though, if it isn't too bold, I would suggest that a change in location might be preferable. It'll allow for no troublesome ears to overhear us" he suggested.
--
“Troublesome ears?” She murmured. It was a phrase that earned a laugh - a soft, breathy sound against his ear. “Have you troublesome exes that I should be on the lookout for?” Not that she could particularly care in the least -- not with his hand where it was, his lips against her ear.
“I think you might need to provide more temptation, though.” She added, her hand giving his a gentle squeeze. “I’m not quite convinced enough.”
---
"You, madam, were the one talking of long lists of desires. I merely thought it wise we move to a location that is better suited for that conversation" he shrugged as if they were discussing anything in the world.
Gently scraping his nails against her inner thigh, he leant forward to whisper once more. "Can I suggest we at least decamp to my office, if you're not ready to leave yet? I can be far more persuasive there" he whispered. Then as he pulled back, he cheekily placed two kisses along her jawline
--
The graze of his nails against her skin caused Melinda to take another sharp breath. Her skin prickled as goosebumps rose and fell over her skin. It was wholly unfair. Somewhere amidst all the distractions, she had the thought that she clearly needed to only wear trousers from here on out. Her eyes closed for a moment as his lips found her jaw.
“I didn’t say that.” She murmured. “Just that I needed more convincing. You’re being quite unfair, now.”
---
"You accuse me of not being convincing enough, yet you are also telling me I'm unfair. If this is how I can make you feel out here in public, how do you think I can make you feel behind closed doors?" he smirked at her.
Then brushing a piece of hair behind her ear, he leant forward to whisper. "If we were somewhere a little more private, it could be my lips there, not my hands. Then when I'm done with that, I can show you what an ex athletes stamina is like"
--
“Terribly and remarkably unfair.” Melinda said softly, a distracted laugh accompanying her statement. It was a playful thing, but his hand and the proximity of his lips had made it truly hard to pay anything more than them any real attention.
His words were wholly thrilling. Melinda could feel the way her skin prickled with warmth just after the chill ran through, and the way her stomach knotted. “Just-- There’s one thing I’m curious about, first.” She said, turning to look up at him. There weren’t any words for her question, however. Instead, she closed that miniscule distance between them, stealing a kiss from his lips.