It had been a hell of a busy day, what with the thousands of complaint owls that had been delivered, lamenting about the Quidditch results from the weekend. Stu had even been paint balled by one, for when it had opened, it had exploded red paint all over him and chimed, "The game sucked!" over and over until Stu finally burned it into ashes. He'd managed to get the red off of his face, but it was all over his good robes, and the necktie he'd worn that day. Slightly depressed, he'd wanted a drink but had decided that he'd pick up some stuff to take home, including take out Chinese food.
He struggled at the door, almost dropping his bag of booze, and managed to use his shoulder to push it open, grabbing at his bags as he stumbled slightly into the room. He stood, and let out a sigh, and glanced about at dimly lit room.
"Alfie? Oh hey," he said, as he flipped on a large light, slightly surprised to see Alfie just sitting on the couch, a bottle in his hand in a very quiet apartment. He put his bags down on the coffee table, and struggled out of his robes. Pulling at his tie and loosening a few top buttons, he moved to take a seat next to Alfie.
He glanced at his room mate, and leaned forward, beginning to unpack the Chinese food, and pulled out two very full bottles of Fire-whiskey. He opened one, and drank out of the bottle and let out a cough before sipping again. With a box of food in one hand and a bottle in the other, Stu leaned back.