the kings and queens of promise / ROBB

[Lucette Devereux]

Lucette was perched at the bar in the Leaky Cauldron, one leg swinging elegantly into the gap between stools. Her usual bar of choice would be a Muggle one outside of Diagon Alley, but Lavinia was busy, as were Georgia and her male relatives, and so Lucette was stuck for company. She'd finally decided to come here, unwilling to stay in the empty apartment by herself, hoping to run into somebody that she knew.

She had had no such luck so far, unfortunately. She was already on her third Long Island Iced Tea - something that, in hindsight, she would realise was a really bad idea - and beginning to get scarily bored. She was dressed up nicely tonight, too, and had had a little male attention, but she hadn't considered any of them worthy and had dismissed them with a few short sentences. Now, though, with the alcohol swishing around comfortably inside her, she was starting to be tempted to just go off with one of them. It had been some time since she last had sex and she rather missed it.

Heaving a great sigh, Lucette took another sip of her drink, and resolved that she would at least give the next guy who came up - if he was good-looking enough - a little more slack than the others. Still, she wouldn't be demeaning herself too far, that was for sure. Sitting up a little straighter, she cast her eyes around the bar, sizing up suitable prospects.

[Robb White]

Robb White, to put it quite frankly, was not one to usually be seen in a bar that was frequented by who he considered to be average people. He had a habit of ruthlessly looking down on said people, disregarding the fact that he was unfairly categorizing the majority of the population into one large group, because a line had to be drawn somewhere regarding who he could and could not associate himself with on any given day. Thus the Leaky Cauldron very comfortably fell under the list of the many types of public places where he normally wouldn’t be caught dead spending an evening.

At the present moment, however, it also needed to be taken into account that he personally knew only a handful of people in England, and his accent had also been working terribly against him when it came to fitting in amongst the crowd – it wasn’t that he particularly fancied being like everyone else (in fact, the opposite was true) but the number of times he’d gotten strange looks because of his pronunciations of certain words was getting rather out of hand in his view. Albeit begrudgingly, he’d allowed himself one night where he would lower his standards and expectations as much as he possibly could in return for any social interaction, and therefore had found himself walking to the back area of the bar in The Leaky Cauldron.

Taking a deep breath to convince himself not to walk right back out the door from which he’d entered, he took a seat on an empty bar stool, tapping his finger on the counter in a highly bored fashion as he waited for a bartender to come and serve him. It wasn’t in his nature, after all, to call for someone to help him – it should have been common knowledge that he expected help to willingly come to him. Preoccupied with giving the restaurant and its customers a disdainful once over, it wasn’t until a few moments later that he managed to notice that, completely accidentally for once, he’d seated himself next to an extremely pretty looking woman. “Good evening,” he greeted amicably, charm mode activated immediately in an effort to get her to look up from her drink.

[Lucette Devereux]

Lucette, having been incredibly disappointed with the men on offer when she looked at the pub, was now gazing rather moodily into the depths of her drink. How was she supposed to scintillate when there was nobody decent on offer? Beginning to think that the Leaky had been a spectacularly poor idea, she was taken rather by surprise when an Australian accent hailed her from one seat over. Always intrigued to meet her fellow countrymen, Lucette despite her excitement took a moment or two before looking over, determined not to look too eager. She was glad she hadn't whipped around the next second, because the man who'd spoken was, upon inspection, very good-looking. He was handsome in a rugged, charismatic sort of way - which was Lucette's absolute favourite type of handsomeness.

Despite her interest, Lucette gave him a moment of two of thoughtful silence before replying, "Good evening," in return, not especially keen to give him a confidence boost by appearing an easy target. If he was looking for any old floozy, he was not going to find one here. Her leg still swinging casually into the space between them, Lucette sized him up for a moment more before darting her eyes back up to his face, letting a slight smile creep out onto her cheeks.

"You should know," she informed him, that smile still in place, "You won't get served in here unless you ask. The only people he -" she indicated the bartender with a dismissive jerk of her head "- notices are pretty girls." Her Australian accent had grown stronger talking to him, as it tended to when she was around compatriots. "The other bartenders are much better," she added, wishing she didn't feel so much like talking to him, "Pity you picked tonight, really."

[Robb White]

Robb fought back a laugh as the woman beside him looked to be, quite purposely, biding her time before she responded to him, a reaction which he was pleasantly surprised to receive. He’d seen a fair share of various reactions over the years in the bars he’d frequented and females he’d flirted with, but none of them rather summarized the way she was currently reacting. There was, as well, a slight sense of annoyance mixed in with this surprise, because of course he wasn’t used to immediate rejection, or any form of rejection at all, really, and he had a feeling that he was going to work hard to pull this all off in the end.

Never losing his calmness, however, he smirked at her, eying her with obvious interest for a moment before directing his attention back behind the bar, where, indeed, the bartender seemed very busy doing just about nothing. Without hesitation, he tapped loudly on the countertop, stubbornly unable to give up his pride. He certainly was not about to show any sign of weakness by having to speak up to be served, of all things, especially not when in the refreshing presence of someone who was so incredibly fit and also happened to have an Australian accent, which was a coincidental bonus.

Internally rejoicing when the bartender reluctantly made his way over after several moments, he turned back to his newfound company, giving her prized grin as he gave her a once over again. She had a nice smile, he noted duly, though this thought was pushed aside as he went on nonchalantly as ever, “I’d say it’s not a pity I picked tonight at all, considering I’ve run into someone as gorgeous as yourself,” and then, to the bartender, added confidently, setting a pocketful worth of money on the counter, “Two vodka sodas – one for myself and one for the wonderful lady beside me, thanks.”

[Lucette Devereux]

Lucette fought down the smile that threatened to appear as the man tapped impatiently on the bar, clearly unable to bear having to actually call to the bartender. This, unfortunately, did nothing to abate her interest, since a man who refused to demean himself by actually having to attract the attention of inferiors was high up on Lucette's list of attractive men. Her smile finally won out as the bartender did come over, and she turned it down into her drink in a half-hearted attempt to hide it.

The smile turned into a very smug smirk as he complimented her, and she said nothing in return - of course she looked nice, that was practically a given - until he placed his drinks order. The minute he was finished speaking, she cleared her throat a trifle irritably, waiting for the bartender to turn to her before ordering, "Change one of those to a glass of your best red wine. The gentleman thinks he's allowed to decide what I drink."

When she turned her smile back to the man this time, it was wide and infinitely sweet. Those who knew Lucette well knew that the only time she wore a smile this nice was either when she wanted something from a relative or when she was feeling especially pleased with an insult or snarky comment she had just made. Indeed, her tone still contained hints of smugness when she remarked, "So, choosing my drink, forcing yourself into my company - you should probably tell me your name right about now. That's how you serial flirts do these things, right?"

[Robb White]

Robb made a slight tsk-ing sound from the back of his throat as the woman spoke up following his statement to the bartender, partially because he was annoyed at the fact that he’d wasted unnecessary breaths on an order that had been changed in the end. However, there was a larger part of him that was a bit amused and had gained a significant amount of begrudging respect for her, considering that not all women, he knew quite well, would have stood up for themselves in that manner that she had.

To be fair, though, her words did not affect him in the least, going right over his head as if she’d never even said them, and thus his own smug demeanour was not lessened by any means. The smirk he gave her in return scarily matched her current one, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes for the time being, instead turning to her and continuing, rather unusually good-naturedly for his normal standards, “Of course you’re a wine drinker. I should’ve guessed, really. My fault,” he told her, placing a hand over his heart and feigning great remorse.

“Serial flirt? I’m appalled,” he remarked casually, not sounding appalled at all but feeling the need to voice his opposition to her, “I believe I deserve more respect than that. Not just anyone could’ve captured your attention, miss, and you can’t look me in the eye and truthfully tell me I’m wrong about that, because I’m aware of exactly how right I am. When you admit that, then I’ll honor you with the knowledge of my name.” He accompanied this, naturally, with a slightly challenging look thrown in her direction, leaning back in his seat and waiting eagerly not only for their drinks to arrive, but also for her response.

[Lucette Devereux]

"I accept your apology," Lucette informed the man with the utmost dignity, donning a rather haughty expression as she turned back to her own drink. With most guys, right about now, she'd have grown tired of the whole conversation and hopped off her barstool to go and find something else to do, drink be damned. There was just something about this man, though - he seemed so close to everything she'd always looked for in the opposite sex. Smart, funny, handsome, a significant cut above the rest of the company, not remotely intimidated by her (but somehow in an attractive rather than irritating way)... fighting down an internal sigh, Lucette finally looked back up as a large glass of red wine arrived on the bartop in front of her.

Now, taking a deep breath, Lucette decided to throw herself to the wind and just see what would happen with the rest of the night. So, picking up her drink, she took a sip as she swung around to face the man properly, crossing her legs neatly between them, giving him a knowing look over the rim of her glass. Pulling it away from her lips, she licked them lingeringly to chase any spare drops of wine, and then gave him a slow, lazy smile.

"Alright," she said, putting on a very exasperated tone of voice, "You've busted me. You've caught my attention. Congratulations. I feel honour-bound to point out, however," she added, just to cut him down before he got any more pleased with himself, "That in company like the rest of the people in this pub, that's not an especially difficult feat. I mean, my next option for conversation after you was the odd guy in the corner with the bubbling pink drink, so..." trailing off, she couldn't resist a quick smirk, and then lifted her chin challengingly. "And now this is the part where either you tell me your name or I take my nice free wine and go find more interesting company. Your choice."