And You Would Be? [JOSH]

[Miranda Mercier]

The time rang in at an impressive one a.m as Miranda yawned, her jaw cracking as her eyes surveyed the almost empty pub. Aside from herself there were only three other occupants; one occupant being a regular costumer who was currently in the process of gathering his things to leave, another a well dressed man - perhaps a few years older than Miranda sitting off to the side whom seemed locked in thought (and he'd be nursing the same drink for a while); and the last patron - he was a whole other story entirely. He'd been a thorn in Miranda's side since she'd gone on duty that evening - she'd been the relief for Grace Longbottom. Not only was he crude, telling jokes that no one in their right mind would dine to hear, but he sucked at tipping. The majority of his tips that night - aside from the snide remarks - had been pennies, at best. Usually Miranda put the charm on hard for a few extra sickles, but this man - whom was teetering very close to public intoxication - hadn't even been worth her time - though he'd insisted on being right at the front of the bar, preventing her from serving those who were worth it.

Thankfully, she thought, it was just about time to go. She'd been granted closing duty that night, something she usually enjoyed - sometimes she'd bring her camera to document the nights decay; it was her alone time, her time to think. With a sigh her eyes went round the room once more, and she took a few steps forward, away from the liquor wall she'd been leaning against and over to where Mr. Pain-in-the-arse sat. She forced a smile onto her face and addressed the room, though her brown eyes, heavy with annoyance, bore straight into him.

"Alright, gentleman, this is the last call. Time to pack up and head out. It's been a great night, but alas! - all good things must come to an end," she announced, grabbing an empty bottle of the bar top as if to punctuate her point. She hoped that both the arse, and the guy who seemed to be in oblivion would snap into it shortly and head out. She'd planned on a few cleaning spells and then a pop home to die of lack of sleep; she didn't feel like waiting an eternity for two drunks to decide on where they wanted to finish their binge at.

A grumble sounded from across the bar and Miranda, who'd been flitting her way on day the bar, collecting garbage and bottles (sometimes she just really loved doing things the nuggle way) to throw away, turned round, her long brown locks flowing behind her. Of course - it was Mr. Pain - in -the-arse. What did he want?

Depositing her bottles and trash into its appropriate container, Miranda headed back to the end she'd just come from. With a less than pleasant look on her face, Miranda approached the guy. Immediately he began to grumble about one more drink, and Miranda shook her head no, her eyes narrowing. We're closing, she repeated, standing her ground. She hated nights like these the idiots seemed to be in plenty. The man didn't seem to catch on, and blatantly ignored Miranda, tapping the lid of his glass to signal for another drink. A look of frustration fell across Miranda's face and she shook her head once more. She was close to shouting, but didn't think it'd do any well. For a moment she wondered how mad Mr & Mrs. Longbottom would get at her for possibly blasting a whole in their establishment in contemplation of sending this guy through a wall.

A resounding no sounded from Miranda's lips once more and the guy stood up, the back up his hand collided with the glass that'd been in front of him, sending it crashing to the wood surface with a clang. He began to demand another drink from "Hot Legs" as he'd dubbed her earlier that night - a comment Miranda had told him a few times to stop using. She began to size up the man in front of her, wondering if she could take him. He was a few inches taller than her, and definitely had a few pounds on her, but Miranda had sobriety on her side. If it came down to it, Miranda was prepared to fight. She'd just have to explain to Mr. & Mrs. Longbottom what'd happened later.

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((ooc: outfit and no way in hell do you have to match this length, I was just setting the scene.))

[Josh Parker]

Josh Parker hadn’t been to a bar in several months. Sure, he was charismatic enough that he’d quickly made many great contacts for himself within the community he’d lived in the United States for the past six years, but he’d never let his guard down enough to make any close friends, especially not any that he could ring up on a Friday night to make plans with. He was more of a lone wolf when it came to such things, not particularly having a problem with socializing with people, but seeing it, for the most part, as just another way to survive in the world, as his mother had taught him from a very young age.

He sat at a bar stool in The Leaky Cauldron, some distance away from the other customers in order to seclude himself further, entirely unaware of how late it had gotten because he was attempting to shut out his surroundings and just think, just allow himself to suffer with nothing but himself and his own mind. He had a vague idea that putting himself down wouldn’t work to solve anything, but for the time being, it was the only option in sight – that and trying to drown himself in alcohol, even though it wasn’t quite working. He’d been staring at the same drink for hours, or at least, that was how long he estimated had elapsed since he’d first entered the restaurant.

At the present moment, to say that there were hundreds of thoughts racing through his mind all at once would be a severe understatement. He’d grown to be able to think critically about things, analyze and comprehend and come up with solutions efficiently and effectively, because his job as a lawyer demanded it. However, his siblings – his Will and his Lara, who’d been his pride and joy for as long as he could remember since he’d practically helped raise them, held them in his arms from the first day they’d come home from the hospital after their birth and vowed to himself that he would never leave them alone – they both seemed to want nothing to do with him at all, and rightfully so.

Even though he knew he deserved the treatment he was getting from his younger siblings because he had, for several years, become the very man that he’d promised he would never be, letting Will and Lara deal with their mother on their own after kicking Bobby out of their home so many years ago and then leaving to go to the States himself, essentially leaving them fatherless, it still left a deep hurt in his chest to know how much they hated him now. It was a reality he didn’t want to accept – but in the end, it would always come down to how yes, he could be held responsible for everything terrible that had happened to his brother and sister as of recent because he’d left them, weak and vulnerable, to face the world on their own. No matter how much he denied it, he’d fucked up big time by forcing them to come to terms with themselves without a father figure in the house, just as Josh himself had.

It was only when he heard the sound of glass crashing that he looked up from the counter in front of him, turning his head slowly and finding said glass lying shattered to pieces on the floor near him. Narrowing his eyes at the scene, he finally drew his attention to the people around him – there was a woman behind the bar who looked quite infuriated, and a man to the right of him who looked to be the source of her frustration, as he kept yelling on something along the lines of wanting another drink. Josh sighed, not out of irritation at the situation or at the need he felt to do something about it, but because it was something that was actually happening. The fact that he didn’t personally know the woman on the other side of the counter was irrelevant – having Ruth Parker as a parent had ensured him many life lessons, one of which included respecting women without a second thought. Therefore he was taken aback suddenly, realizing that there were men who didn’t feel the same way that he did (the other man was obviously intoxicated, but Josh didn’t consider that a valid excuse) and he knew without a doubt that if it had been his own sister or mother behind the counter being pestered, he would have gotten up and broken the other man’s face in an instant.

Instead, he moved more calmly, though with a set determination in his gait, abandoning his seat and making his way to stand between the other man and the bar counter, his back to the bartender. “It’s probably time that you go home,” he began resolutely, his voice remaining steady as ever. He hadn’t even heard the bartender tell them both that it was closing time, but telling the other man to leave had been his automatic reaction. Looking over his shoulder for a moment, he added confidently, this time to the bartender, “You can kick him out any time you’d like. He won’t do anything.”

[Miranda Mercier]

Levicorpus. Yes. Levicorpus would do the job, Miranda thought as the man continued to shout at her, the alcohol on his breath making her sick. Although she'd been one to drink like no other, a bottle of whiskey a night, at times, then the other nights definitely a bottle of wine. It didn't matter. Drinking made reality easier to suffer through - a sad hard fact of Miranda's life that she couldn't escape. She didn't think of herself as an alcoholic, however, because she didn't need a drink, all the time. It was just days like this that made shit easier to deal with, shit like what she was dealing with at the moment. A drunk fuck on a power trip with a smart mouth. She dealt with many of these types before, but none so belligerent.

She managed to reach her hand under the bar counter, finding her wand and preparing herself to blast this fool clear across the room, but she was suddenly interrupted. The man who'd been sitting at the other end of the bar, the same person she'd just told to leave, along with the drunk guy, was now standing in front of her, his back to the bar. Miranda's brow shot up, and her hand enclosed around the wand, holding to it tightly. What did he want now? Her lips parted, her words ready to roll out, but she was cut short - the man had already began to speak. He was telling the drunk man to leave. Part of Miranda grew furious, her eyes narrowing, even more so as Captain Save - a - barmaid turned around to insure that everything was okay. Miranda was never the damsel in distress type, hadn't ever saw a reason to be. No one saved you but yourself, and Miranda was a firm believer in having her own back. This interference on the strangers part made her seeth with anger. She wasn't helpless. At the same time, however, she couldn't help to be a tad bit grateful. Ruining your boss's pub would more than likely end in lose of job, after all.

"We're closing. Leave," Miranda stated, the tone of her voice leaving no room for question as she decided to follow suit with what she was told. She needed her job after all.

A resounding moan of disappointment sauntered the drunk man's lips, along with a roll of his eyes. He staggered a few inches closer to the bar, eyes burning into Miranda before giving her a sleazy smile and tapping a hand to his chest. "Guess your knight n shiny armor's here hot legs, don't worry, i'll be back some time. . ." he slurred, fishing in his pockets for a few moments, then shrugging. Miranda starred back, her wand still tight in her grasp. His words didn't scare her, not in the slightest. The ramblings of drunk men often went unnoticed by Miranda.

After a few more moments of just standing there, the room still as if everything was moving in slow motion, the drunk man walked off, and out the door. A sigh of relief left Miranda's lips, and she let loose a breath she hadn't even realised she'd been holding. She let the grip slacken on her wand. Now, just to deal with Captain Save- a - barmaid. Not that she wasn't a grateful, but Miranda wasn't the type to thank people out right either.

"Look," she began, her eyes scanning around the room to make certain no one else was hanging back. "I'm grateful. But I could have taken him . . ." although it remained to be seen if she even believed her own words. The drunk man had been relatively bigger than her. "So what do you want then? A drink on the house for your heroic efforts? Because we are closing."


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ooc: so sorry that this is such a shit reply. i'm just in a really bad place/mood atm.