RP: Wine. I need wine. Who: Romilda + Open When: Friday night, 7/28/09 Where: The Leaky Cauldron What: Romi has had a day... a week... a month... a year. Warnings: TBD
Romilda had had a day... a week... a month... a year. She was very good at note seeming effected, but after the Writer's meeting today during which Silviya Capper had actually raised her voice at the assembled group, Romilda truly felt as if she couldn't put on the happy, snarky, easy Romilda face anymore. She needed wine. And preferably a lot of it.
On her way home, she considered stopping at her favorite wine shop for a bottle or two to just take back to her flat at the Quatre, but she got a strange pang in her gut when she remembered running into Oliver Wood there, the meeting what was - despite their previous one night stand - the start of it all, if you asked her. And so instead, she took the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron and took a small booth in a corner, quickly ordering herself a bottle of deep red French Petite Sirah, ignoring the small (so small!) voice in the back of her head that said a lady shouldn't order an entire bottle of herself in public. She wanted a wine that would hit her hard, a dark, funky wine with full bursting flavors. The Syrah was perfect.
She didn't bother to order food. Maybe should later. But her stomach kept turning - stress from work, the reality of her social life seeming to hit her out of nowhere, and a strange anxiety coming at her from all angles just did not make for much of an appetite. When he wine arrived, she did her best to thank Liesl graciously for it, but was pretty sure she couldn't help but grimace a bit. She took a long, slow drink of the first glass, savoring the taste and letting her eyes close with the relief that came with it. Now she would drink. And ignore the feelings swirling deep inside of herself. That was a plan.