Nothing a Little Whiskey Can't Fix

Amelia was feeling as though she had been poked, prodded, and examined to the point that no part of her was ever going to be private again. She knew the healers were just trying to do their job, but now that she had tasted freedom after so many months cooped up in St. Mungo's, it was getting to be harder and harder to go back for checkups. Even walking in again made Amelia feel as though a piece of her freedom was being taken from her, even if only for a few hours while they renewed her prescriptions and made sure her fever was still at bay.

It was nearly 7:00pm when they finally let her go with a clean bill of health and a bag full of potions to replace the ones she had used up in the last week. So far, the treatment plan was working; Amelia hadn't been running a fever, her skin was no longer emerald-colored, and her magic was coming back to her. She still hadn't gained back the weight she had lost in the process of being ill - making her look even more waif-like than usual - but otherwise, Amelia seemed to be finally getting over the "pureblood pox".

But after all the poking around that had happened today and the knowledge that there wasn't much for her to go home to tonight, Amelia found herself heading to Café Montez instead. She had never been here for anything other than coffee, so she was surprised to find their business booming at so late an hour. It seemed things turned into a sort of dinner & drinks atmosphere in the evening, and Amelia wasn’t lucky enough to get an empty table, so she took a seat up at the bar, ordering a Firewhiskey from the older woman behind the counter. She didn’t drink much, but when she did, whiskey would always be her poison of choice.

The air that hung in the night sky had a familiar chill hiding within in. It moved across Silvyr's cheek bringing with it the thought of the coming winter months. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of his favorite time of year.

Leah was by his side as he moved to the side of the street making room for a group of elderly witches and wizards who were speaking in a happy tone. This kept Silvyr smiling as they passed. Only a few short weeks had gone by since the battle on the alley. His back had finally healed from the awful charring that had resulted from the burning roof collapsing on him.

As he walked down the street Silvyr noticed a friend entering the cafe a few doors down. He wasn't in a rush anywhere so he decided he could make the next hour or so free time and stop and say hello. When he entered the restaurant he located Amelia and made his way over to her. He motioned to the bartender and began ordering a scotch as he leaned on the bar right next to Amelia knowing it would take her off guard.

The waitress obliged Amelia with a scotch glass full of whiskey and ice, and the redhead paid her in kind, flipping an extra sickle on the counter as a tip. Amelia had worked in the service industry when she was in school – her father’s idea of teaching her work ethic – so she knew what it was like to wait unrewarded for your paycheck from patrons with shallow pockets.

Amelia shrugged out of her coat and straightened the blazer she had put on over a plain shirt in order to look a bit more put together. She had just taken her first sip of her drink when she saw a movement in her peripheral vision that soon became a complete image when someone leaned on the bar immediately next to her. Amelia didn’t recognize him at first because she could only see him over the rim of her glass, and she was getting ready to be annoyed that a stranger would stand so close to her when there was ample space elsewhere on the bar. But as she lowered her glass, the blond man next to her came into clarity and she realized she knew him.

“Silvyr?” Amelia asked, though the questioning tone was rhetorical. Amelia most certainly knew the man standing next to her, though they hadn’t seen each other in quite some time, “What are you doing here?”

Rude, Amelia, her subconscious chimed in, though too late.

Silvyr wasn't surprised by Amelia's instant recognition of who he was. The girl's mind was brighter than his own and he didn't say that about just anyone.

He responded quickly in a warm tone, "I couldn't pass on the opportunity to say hello to an old friend. I was walking down the road when I saw you run in. So I figured why not take a break from the hustle and bustle of the holidays. How have you been? It's been awhile since we last spoke."

Right before Silvyr had finished speaking his drink was set down in front of him by the old bar keep. He dug through his pants pockets and pulled out an old galleon and set it down. "Tis the season." he said with a smile to the old woman whose eyes widened in disbelief.

An old friend… Amelia thought to herself when Silvyr replied, getting hung up on that last word. It took a lot for Amelia to consider someone a friend, but in her experience with her peers, she had found that others threw that word around much more lightly. That still didn’t stop her from catching on the word every time, though, even when it was used by someone she didn’t completely dislike – Silvyr, for example.

He followed up his usage of the word “friend” with a few questions about how she had been, which Amelia took her time with as she took another sip of her drink. She probably ought not to be drinking now that she knew someone here – she didn’t tend to drink in front of anyone she knew, for the sake of her reputation – but this was her first time out in months, so she wasn’t about to abandon her drink so soon.

Amelia set down her drink as Silvyr paid for his, the bartender getting a pleasant surprise. The headmistress on hiatus raised an eyebrow at Silvyr as she took note of the large tip, seeing an opportunity to take the focus of the conversation away from herself. All the answers to Silvyr’s questions would be about her illness, and Amelia had had quite enough of talking about that. She would much rather think about something – anything – else.

“That was awfully generous of you,” Amelia said discreetly as the waitress pocketed the galleon gleefully and went to tell her coworker about it, “Either life has been treating you particularly well or you’re more interested in that woman than your age gap might imply,” the redhead said with a cocked, questioning eyebrow.

Silvyr brought the glass up to his lips and took a small swig of the strong scotch. As the glass tilted back the ice clinked together gently. He listened to Amelia's comment while he stared straight ahead trying to contain his smile.

When Silvyr lowered his glass he couldn't help but show the sly smile. "Ahhh, no to your second guess. My heart told me it was the right thing to do. It's not always right but I can't help but let it guide me on occasion." He said bringing the glass up to his lips once more.

When he had finished his swig he took a seat on the empty bar stool next to Amelia, "So what are you going to be doing for the Holidays? Visiting family or enjoying the city life?" Silvyr said trying to keep the conversation going.

Aaaaaand that’s why we aren’t actually friends… Amelia’s subconscious chimed in when Silvyr started talking about what his heart told him to do. Amelia was firmly against letting an organ intended for circulation be making her decisions for her, no matter how romanticized the idea was in the popular literature.

And apparently among softies like Silvyr, her subconscious added after her thought, though the rational part of Amelia’s brain had the wherewithal to keep her from actually rolling her eyes at his absurd notions.

Thankfully, the next line of conversation Silvyr pursued was a bit more tangible, so Amelia was able to finish her sip of whiskey and respond without sarcasm.

“I’m not really certain of my holiday plans yet. My parents are still sick for the moment, but if they’ve recovered enough by then I’ll join them for Christmas. Otherwise, I suspect I’ll find something productive to do with my time,” she finished, eternally pragmatic.