Kingsley had been rushing all morning. Papers to file, an interview to conduct, and a few trainees had needed help. Running on a cup of tea and a bit of toast, he found himself at nearly 1 in the afternoon, starving. The sandwich cart that roamed the DMLE floor wouldn’t cut it that day- Kingsley wanted a proper burger, or a good meat pie, or even a hearty stew. Maybe all three, with a pint to top it all off. That had been the sort of food that his father’s pub had served when Kingsley had been a boy. And that was why he was walking into The Hound’s Pint.
Dressed in black robes and a muggle suit (it helped to be able to go incognito in the muggle world at the drop of a hat), Kingsley cleared his throat.
“What are the chances you serve food? I could eat a hippogriff,” he said, making his way towards the bar and taking a seat. His stomach felt empty, and his mind was slightly dizzy from hunger. When Anna had been alive, she’d always made sure Kingsley had a proper sack lunch to take to work. But that had been over a decade ago, and he didn’t have the heart to hire a house elf to do it for him. Seemed cruel, and with American parents, a little too similar to the sins of the States.