We earned these scotches and smiles

They were a walking contradiction.

Keiran was objectively dashing in his suit, and even beneath her jean bomber jacket, Kenna's gown fell tastefully from her curves, a delicate reminder of her femininity. And yet some dust from the rubble could be seen in Keiran's hair and on his suit, and the side of Kenna's face had a smattering of scratches that made her look pleasingly scrappy. Her hair was mussed and frizzy, and they might have winced every now and then.

And yet large grins were plastered on their faces as Kenna made some joke about the dish in her arms.

Oh yeah.

She had a dish in her arms.

Carlene was managing, Damien was tending, and she was sure Hector was running the line. As Kenna approached the bar, Damien's eyes lifted and his face revealed a blatant look of surprise and disapproval. "What the f*ck happened to you?"

Already with the cursing.

Carlene strode past the bartender and smacked the back of his head, her face stern but her sentiment affectionate. "Shut up and get their drinks," she said. "And don't be rude."

Damien grinned after her. "I can't wait to tell our kids about how their mum used to smack me around."

"Who's the we in that?"

"Carly, I've got an odd request," Kenna said, nodding her head towards her favorite spot at the bar, right at the end where the rest of the pub was in full view, leading the way. As she sat, she set the plate down in front of her. "Hang this up. Put an anti-shattering spell on it. Be careful, he's a dear friend. And I'll have the usual. Keep 'em coming. Same for my friend, he's having..." her chin turned towards Keiran, cueing him to make his order.

Keiran stood back just enough to ensure he wasn't imposing on their co-worker dynamic. But only once he recognized it. As Hogwarts' Headmaster, he didn't really have this sort of relationship with anyone, he mused to himself as they bantered. Perhaps he would have liked to.

Still, as he stood there in his dust-covered suit, Keiran was still smiling a bit. And their banter certainly helped keep the expression there. But when Kenna told the other woman to be careful with their former hawk friend, a full-fledged smirk pulled his cheeks. Keiran ducked his head to try and hide it, but then she looked over at him and he straightened up again.

"Scotch double, with a water back." He offered, shedding his suit jacket. When he got a chance to look at the sleeves, he frowned, shaking it a little to try and get the debris off.

Oh well.

Leaning on the stool, he tried to determine where she thought they were going to sit while they drank, though he was partial to the bar itself after years of drinking with Robin after matches or on random evenings. He didn't mind either way, though. And Keiran wasn't sure how long they would actually stay after a night like theirs anyway. At least he didn't have the kids to worry about. Otherwise he would've had to postpone this, and somehow he felt like that would've been really disappointing.

Judging by the conversation thus far, it wasn't a night he would've wanted to miss.

Rather than divest herself of the jacket, she zipped it up and reached up to run a hand through her hair, freeing her copper curls of the last product she had coated it in to ensure it'd keep its shape and volume for the night. The duel had done much in the way of relaxing her appearance, but she still longed for a cardigan and jeans. She didn't think it'd be all that fair to Keiran, who was stuck in his suit, if she popped upstairs to find one of the spare outfits she kept in case her sleeve caught fire or a stain set too quickly - both of which happened at a rapid, but unsurprising, frequency.

No, they were stuck looking fancy and exhausted together.

She settled comfortably on her stool and glanced towards Keiran. "You know, I paid extra money for the practical stools, as opposed to the decorative ones. They support your weight and everything." Her snark was punctuated by Damien's return with Keiran's scotch double and water, and her Johnnie Ginger.

He tilted his head. "Where'd you go, the opera?"

"There was enough violence for the opera," Kenna mused, glancing towards Keiran for his thoughts. "But not nearly enough singing."

"Oi! Kenna!" Kenna lifted her gaze to see the plate nestled among the other signs bearing alcohol brands and novelty quotes. Kenna's face brightened by she cocked her head, feigning a critical eye. "What do you think, Headmaster? Is that a good enough home for our noble ally?"

"And they're the right height and everything," Keiran countered as he sat down - pointedly, of course. There was no saving or explaining his actions now, so he didn't even try. They were already here, and she couldn't very well send him away without looking terrible, so what did he care if he impressed her? It was just drinks with someone he'd... well, someone who had probably saved his life at least once, even if it meant saving hers at the same time. So perhaps he had reason to behave.

"Yeah, I think I could've done with a ballet, even, over the mess from earlier." And he truly hated the idea of going to either. Distaste drew his eyebrows up and together as he shook his head.

When Kenna directed his attention elsewhere, he had to scan for a moment before he realized what she was talking about. Oh! "I figure that'll do. Perhaps I'll have to check in on him, though, just in case."

It was a joke, in some sense, but he found that he actually wouldn't mind it. For someone who didn't do 'social' anymore, Keiran Hayes was finding it remarkably easy with this bunch.

Kenna's grin stretched wider as Keiran immediately tacked onto her comment, matching her in wit and tone, and she felt more at ease to know he could roll with the punches. She was a people person, and she did deeply empathize with the people around her... but she was rough on the edges, and while she liked to think her sometimes rough manner with endearing and quirky, she knew the more sensitive sorts were more likely to call her... well, less kind names.

She supposed it was obvious Keiran wouldn't be on the touchier side. She had just come back from battle with him.

Ugh, that sounded so badass. The guys were going to be wildly jealous. Oh. And worried. Ugh.

It was with this realization that she was able to smirk and continue, "Yeah, I pegged you for a ballet sort. You should have seen him dancing, Carlene. Put me to shame."

"That's not exactly hard to do," Damien pointed out, and Kenna was immediately tossing a coaster after him.

She stared up at the plate and found herself feeling more than just this fake conjured fondness. Downplayed as it might be, they had just survived an unprovoked battle, had probably prevented multiple injuries, had made a friend in the process... and they had a trophy. A little memento for their trouble. Kenna knew there'd be a day in the bar where she'd feel useless, worthless, like she had nothing to contribute. And the little reminder that she could be of help... she'd really appreciate it.

"Travis will probably wonder what you're up to anyway," she pointed out thoughtfully. She opened her mouth to continue when Damien suddenly set two shots down in front of them. Kenna's mouth was still tipped open slightly as her eyes drifted towards him, tilting her head in confusion. "You trying to get me drunk, mate?"

Damien rolled his eyes, jerking his thumb at the end of the bar. "It's Anika and Davey. They said they owed you for getting them a cab last week."

Kenna leaned over the bar and caught sight of the couple waving at her. She gave them a grin and mouthed a thank you, lifting herself slightly as though to quickly walk over and give her thanks, but they waved her down, calling out to enjoy herself and she re-settled, turning towards Keiran as her hand drifted towards the shot glass. "The patrons like to keep me buzzed. They think I get nicer with the bills. That's why Carlene does it. She's merciless."

"You know it," she said, as she breezed past.

Kenna held up her shotglass towards Keiran. "To Travis?"