In an hour...

Okay, so it wasn't that he thought she was going to just say no or something, but... he sort of couldn't get his head around the whole thing. He and Kenna - a pub owner who had no real reason to care about those students - were planning a... something. That was to be determined, but he was both confused and pleasantly surprised.

He somehow amused himself with the idea of asking her how the Leaky compared to her own pub, but that was stopped quire quickly when he looked over and saw Declan talking and laughing with some patron or other. No, wait. Not just 'some' patron. Keiran couldn't recall hearing that Declan and Dom had properly become a thing, but they must have, because - yep. He leaned across the bar to kiss her. Declan glanced to the side, then down the bar to where someone was waving at him. When he moved away to help another customer, though, something dark passed over his features and Keiran frowned. Strange.

Anyway, he'd shown up early, if only to get away from the castle, and to ensure that Kenna wasn't kept waiting. She was doing far more for those kids -- and, arguably, for him -- than anyone else had in months. So he lingered by the door, eyeing the Quidditch match on the telly on and off.

Kenna delivered her box full of forms and information and stepped into Kip's office to give him the stony explanation that she had accomplished her goal. He could sense in her the irritation she had kept at bay for so long, though he wasn't sure where it came from. Kenna had confided in him her own secret ambitions, to find something else that might be worth her time. She had done this work before, lightly, when he was unavailable. She had learned the law, American law sure but law nonetheless, as she helped her former lover study. She learned quickly and she wanted to learn more. And now she was upset with him.

But she didn't offer much by way of explanation. She had another meeting. She offered him a smile, a smile that promised he was not the only one with secrets, and she left.

She checked in at her own bar, making sure all was in order and shifts were arranged, before quickly freshening up. In truth, she didn't need the hour, but she certainly didn't like the idea of being spotted in a rival bar, killing time. Finally, the hour hit and she apparated off, scowling at the sign above the tavern, if only for her own sense of pride.

She stepped inside as a roar went through the bar. She turned and spotted the match on the television, cocking her head in interest. She cast her eyes around the bar and spotted Keiran, moving towards him with her eyes on the television, backing towards him. She reached his table and slipped into the chair, eyes still on the match. "Romaski's your classic addition by subtraction - they team never had a chance before the coach had to put him on medical leave. Convenient, that."

Keiran looked up at Kenna’s approach, following her gaze back to the match. Nodding along, he felt a bit of amusement at her understanding of whatever team it was. He so rarely had time to watch matches despite how well he’d loved the sport. Apart from those at Hogwarts, of course.

“Merlin, it’s been ages since I’ve been to a professional match. Or played, for that matter.” He shook his head. “How rubbish.”

He shifted to lean against the back of the booth, his hands coming together to rest atop the table. It took only moments for him to wrap one hand around the opposite fingers, his thumb working at the other palm absentmindedly. It had become habit, over the years, while watching students sit exams or work in groups.

“As far as the event is concerned,” he started, trying to get his head back in the right space, “we need something people can bet on. I’d hope the students could be involved somehow, but if there’s betting, we’d have to make sure only adults can really participate. And besides, we don’t need the students trying to pitch in for their classmates. It would be nice,” Keiran conceded ,”but if some do and others don’t… That wouldn’t necessarily go well.”

A waitress with a Spanish accent flounced over, beaming at them. New, probably. Keiran didn’t drop in at the Leaky too often, but he didn’t recognize her. “What can I get you?” She asked, skipping over the formalities.

“A pint of whatever Declan recommends,” he replied. Her gaze flicked from her notepad, which he’d only just noticed, and back to him. As confused as he was by her taking notes, she seemed just as curious. Probably thought he was a regular or, worse, a beer snob. He wasn’t actually, but he was interested. He also fully intended on letting Kenna try it and see if she agreed. Perhaps it was a little rude to try and prove her the better barkeep, but he was a Slytherin. He couldn’t help it.

Kenna grinned at Keiran's comment as she scooted her chair in, saying, "It's a bad habit. I've wasted a lot of time on matches. I can ride but the second I add worrying about a ball to the mix. I'm a goner. Last option is to live vicariously through those lot." She shrugged. "Besides. Can't run a pub and not keep up with it. Part of the job description, really."

She didn't feel like she ought to explain herself, or fill the silence. Instead, she found a certain level of pleasure in sharing details that might otherwise be seen as unnecessary. She often prattled on to strangers and regulars alike, but it never seemed like she was saying anything that might be remembered or enjoyed beyond the moment. Keiran was a pleasant mix of interested and intelligent, and she liked watching him soak in information. Even if it was silly trivia like the fact that she was a rubbish Quidditch player.

He moved on to the event and before she could contribute, the waitress had arrived. Kenna watched the waitress with interest, before her eyes wandered over to the bartender across the way. Her smile was back when the waitress turned to her. She straightened up. "A Daiquiri, please."

The waitress lifted her chin. "Any preference on rum?"

Kenna's eyebrows raised slightly. "Middle of the shelf."

The waitress cocked her head curiously, but wrote it down, turning away. Kenna watched her carefully as she approached the bartender with the orders, explaining to Keiran, "The test of a barstaff or bartender is the Daquiri. It's hard to make one taste bad, but a bad bartender will try to dissuade you or add fruit and other unnecessary add ins. A good one will ask you what kind of rum. A better one will know what middle of the shelf means," she said, squinting as the waitress passed on the order. The bartender seemed unperturbed by her request. She hummed in surprise but then let out a smirk. "An even better would ask if I wanted it up."

The last of her sentence was drowned out by another roar from the crowd as the Quaffle soared, yet again, through the middle hoop.

Usually, Keiran would have been irritated if someone had gone out of their way to either correct him or show him up. Usually, he would have taken it as a personal slight that implied the other person simply hadn't the manners to keep themselves from doing it. But as Kenna measured up the waitress and explained her reasoning, he did register the typical irritation -- except it only lasted for a moment or two. And then he registered, properly, that this sort of thing for her was probably like Transfiguration for him: a passion, and the sort that she enjoyed sharing with others.

So he lifted an eyebrow, clearly paying attention as she explained. "Well," he returned, his tone easy and amused, "Merlin knows I've never tasted one. But as far as I can tell she's new. I don't know the owner well enough to say if he could live up to your standards. He used to teach at Hogwarts, but I always thought he was more of a cook than a bartender."

Deciding it wasn't strictly his place to point out that the man seemed incapable of holding his liquor and dealing with the aftermath of that problem, Keiran left it at that. Besides, bickering of some sort had kicked off at the bar between men who were very clearly on opposing sides of the fanbase.

"It was always quite funny to me, until I took up playing myself, that people could get so worked up over a match. Over a team they have never and will never be part of. My da took me to a match the summer before I left for school," he told her, an easy smile working across his features. "And I remember being absolutely baffled by how violent some of the fans got. Except then I got to Hogwarts and learned to properly love the sport. I ended up as captain by my final year -- just in time to nearly lose the house cup final. That may, honestly, be the most disastrous match in all of Hogwarts history. Including the years that Harry attended."

He shook his head, a swarm of discomfort overcoming him and making him feel like he needed to brush it away. But then their drinks were returned and Keiran reached for the beer, holding it up towards Kenna to meet hers.

"A toast," he suggested with a pleased smirk. "To horrendous Quidditch matches, and to the students we'll help once we figure this whole thing out."