a hazy shade of winter [closed]

[Iseabail Lamont]

Isha quite liked this time of year, when the leaves were changing and the air turned fresh and cold, and she could start thinking about warm jumpers and scarves and hot chocolate and cosy nights in. And any new season meant a fresh wardrobe, which was always fun. She was warmly but stylishly dressed as she made her way through the Leaky Cauldron towards Diagon Alley; there had been a cold snap recently, and she had felt the need of her coat and gloves.

She'd been for lunch with Jonathon at a nice restaurant, done a little shopping in Muggle London (Isha liked having money to spend; she'd never had any growing up, and a decent salary seemed luxurious to her) and was now headed to do a bit more in Diagon Alley. She was only really passing through the Leaky Cauldron, although as she went, she cast an eye over the crowd, in case there was anyone she knew there. Isha didn't much like sitting by herself in eating places, but she wouldn't have minded a butterbeer to keep the cold out, if there was anyone to drink it with...

She was so busy scanning the room that she didn't even notice the person right in front of her, though, and bumped straight into them, overbalancing slightly and grabbing a table to steady herself.

"Oh! Sorry!" she exclaimed automatically, before even glancing up to see who she had bumped into.

((OOC - Open to anyone with a reason to be in the Leaky! Outfit here!))

[Nicholas Eames]

It had been horrifically early that morning when Eames, after finding that all of the milk in the fridge was out of date, declared that the band flat was simply not fit to be lived in, had picked his way through the mess of the apartment (even knocking over a leftover take-away from the previous night) and left the flat with a satisfying slam of the door. Obviously he wasn't truly angry but the place genuinely smelled repulsive and he'd used up all of his body spray and flung open every window in an attempt to rid them of the deeply unpleasant odours to no avail, so leaving the flat seemed to be his only option. He'd stopped at the nearby cafe to have his daily flirt with the pretty brunette who worked behind the counter and his daily cup of strong coffee before roaming the streets, bumping into a couple of people here and there and even coming across a couple who eagerly advanced and told him how much they adored the Fifth Horseman, although they seemed quite disappointed that the rest of the band weren't there as well and kept casting their gaze left and right as though expecting Charlie, Leon and Tommy to burst out from an alleyway and start crooning one of their songs to them.

Eventually he wound up at the Leaky Cauldron and spent the better part of fifteen minutes there chatting to an old wizard who was truly hungover and obviously hadn't a clue what was going on and kept referring to Eames as his 'old friend', which Eames did not deny and went on with rather cheerfully, chatting on to the man as though they'd known each other for decades and nodding vehemently every time he made a point. Finally the old man stood up, clapped Eames on the shoulder and told him that he was a truly outstanding bloke, and then lurched out of the door into Diagon Alley, leaving Eames fighting back laughter. The next couple of minutes were spent chatting up the barmaid who he regularly chatted up - in fact, they could almost be counted as good mates by then - before he ordered a butterbeer and got to his feet, bidding her goodbye and saying that he'd make a quick trek around the pub to see if there was anyone he knew.

He made his way towards the front of the pub, dodging around a couple of girls who were obviously fresh out of Hogwarts and then skirting around a group of middle-aged men arguing enthusiastically about Quidditch, none of them seeming to have a clue what they were on about. Eames, unusually, was not paying enough attention to what was straight in front of him, instead scanning the rest of the pub, and thus managed to bump into someone else, slopping half his buttebeer over himself and nearly sending the poor woman flying.

"Sorry, sorry," he echoed her, shooting her an apologetic look and automatically reaching out to steady her before stealing two napkins from the empty table beside him and attempting, fruitlessly, to dry himself off. With a wry smile on his face, he raised his eyes slightly to look up at her, saying mildly, "It was my fault, I wasn't looking where I was going. And now my shirt has to pay for it," he sighed mock-dramatically before producing his wand from his pocket and magicking himself dry again. "Or not," he said proudly, before fixing her with a good-natured, yet slightly concerned look, "You alright?"

________________________________
ooc. - hope this is okay!

[Iseabail Lamont]

"No, no," Iseabail protested, her soft Scottish accent noticeable, "It wasn't your fault - I wasn't looking either..." She opened her mouth to apologise about his shirt (ruining clothes was one of Isha's least favourite thing, so she always sympathised when it happened to other people), but then he had fixed it before she could, so her apology seemed a little redundant. Instead, she took the moment that he was busy with his wand to look at him properly. Cute, a nice smile, vaguely familiar. Not that finding a familiar face was that unusual in the Wizarding World - with everyone in Britain (just about) going through Hogwarts, recognising faces was fairly normal. She felt like she maybe knew his face from somewhere other than school though... where, she couldn't have said though. Rather than dwell on it now, she filed her observations away in her mind, and smiled back at him instead.

"I'm fine," she assured him, "I hope your shirt is..." she eyed his now half empty glass with dismay, "Oh, but you lost your drink... Can I, you know, buy you another one or something?" She glanced down herself to check that none of his butterbeer (at least, that was what he appeared to be drinking) hadn't gone on her. She couldn't see any , which was a relief; she liked these clothes... Looking up again, she laughed, suddenly seeing the funny side.

"We're being terribly British, aren't we?" she joked, referring to the fact that they were both trying to take the blame and apologise, when in fact neither of them had been paying more attention than the other.

((Absolutely fine, love! Sorry for the length and quality of my post, my brain's all over the place today... Also, Isha's pretty clueless about celebrities, haha))

[Nicholas Eames]

Eames noted simultaneously that the woman was very pretty and also that her accent was most definitely Scottish, which prompted a flicker of interest in his eyes as he fought back a laugh as she protested against his apology. Eames was a remarkably good-natured chap and having someone bump into him was not at all an irritating thing to happen, especially someone who was so swift to apologise themselves. In fact, Eames was so good-natured that if someone had milled him over and then barked at him that it was his fault he'd have probably found the entire thing quite hilarious and would've picked himself up, clapped the person on their shoulder and then went about on his way. On the whole, he was quite a good person to bump into.

"Oh, the shirt's fine!" He assured her, glancing down at his relatively boring grey shirt and then back up at her, still smiling cheerfully. "It's an old one. I think it needed the excitement, anyway," he tacked on, voice lowering as though presenting the woman with a great secret. "I was just going to ask you if you wanted me to buy you a drink, actually," he informed her smoothly, once she had offered to buy him a drink, "But I'll tell you what - we could buy each other drinks, and you could sit with me for a while? I'm needing company, and then I could prove to you that I'm not the sort of guy who nearly mills people over all the time," his tone continued to be warm, and he appeared to be positively bouncing on the balls of his feet before adding, with faux sincerity, "Actually, I have no friends, which is why I'm at a bar alone, so you'd be doing me a tremendous favour. Consider it a good deed for the day!" He suggested, sipping what was remaining of his butterbeer. "The world needs more unexpected, random acts of kindness...and yes," he said firmly. "We are fabulously British."

[Iseabail Lamont]

It was nice, Isha couldn't help thinking, to meet someone as genuinely good-natured as this. Many people would have been at least a little annoyed by the accident, but this guy really didn't seem to mind, and was in fact being far more open and friendly to a stranger than Isha would normally have been herself . "Well, that's good," she began, referring to his shirt, then paused momentarily at his suggestion. For a moment, she hesitated, her brain doing its usual rapid analysis of the situation.

Yes, he was nice and friendly, but there was also the possibility that he was simply a smooth charmer trying to chat her up - the way he'd turned this so quickly into an invitation to drink with him suggested that he might be. She didn't believe for a moment that he had no friends, so that was just a silly excuse. Was his tone flirtatious? Possibly, but it could also just be friendly. Did he make a habit of befriending random people in bars? Well, also possibly. On the other hand, did she really mind if he was trying to chat her up? It wasn't something that happened to her very often, and he was cute, and she'd just been wishing for someone to sit with... It wasn't as if there was any harm in it, whatever his intentions were. A drink was a perfectly innocent thing, and anyway, buying each other one seemed like more of a companionable, friendly thing than anything - much more so than if he'd insisted on buying her one...

Her whole thought process took only a second or two, and she smiled at him. "Okay, why not?" she agreed, "I was just thinking about a hot drink." She glanced up at him, eyebrows raised slightly, "After all, I'm at a bar alone too, so clearly I must have no friends either..." she gestured to the bar with another smile, "Shall we?"

[Nicholas Eames]

Eames had meant the claim of having no friends as a joke, but as he watched her appear to consider his offer of them buying each other drinks, he wondered if she quite got it, knowing that his sense of humour could puzzle those who didn't know him very well at times. Regardless of her catching onto his joke, he had quite decided that it would be nice to have a sit-down with her, because she seemed nice enough, and she was pretty enough, and he'd been extremely bored until they'd collided, so he supposed that he owed her that. She accepted quickly enough, however, causing Eames to beam at her. He had quite a talent of befriending people in bars - particularly pretty women - but it was a novelty that never wore off on him. Strangers could be remarkably interesting, especially when you'd gotten used to just about everybody else in your life. With strangers, at least, there was some hope for surprise.

"Brilliant," he said, turning towards the bar and very obviously catching the pretty barmaid's eye, making it clear that he was advancing to buy another drink. "Well, I've had my morning's cup of coffee, and I'm rather partial to a butterbeer at this time of the day, if you'd mind that being the drink you bought me?" He suggested pleasantly once they'd reached the counter, realising that it was possibly the first time a woman had ever offered to buy him a drink other than his aunt. "And what would you like? Something hot, right?" Eames asked, producing his wallet and holding it at the ready to pay for whatever drink the woman fancied. "I'm Eames, by the way," he added suddenly, holding his hand out for her to shake, "Nicholas Eames. Everyone calls me Eames, though." (This was untrue, but there were very few that called him anything else.) "And you are...?" His voice trailed off expectantly, half-turned towards the barmaid, making it obvious that he was just on the cusp of ordering and thus rendering the woman from budging while he introduced himself.

[Iseabail Lamont]

Befriending random people certainly wasn't one of Isha's main talents - she was a lot more outgoing than she used to be, but she still tended to be something of a private person. This was a departure from the normal for her, but in a good way, she decided. This guy was nice, not some creepy bar stalker. And there was still a nagging voice in her head that told her she ought to recognise him - had she met him before, or was it simply that he reminded her of someone...? She found herself returning his smile involuntarily though, as they headed for the bar.

"That's fine," she agreed readily to his request for butterbeer, then considered for a moment, head on one side, "Well... I haven't had my coffee for the morning and I've been trailing in and out of shops for hours, so if it's okay, I'll have a latte...?" She turned to the barmaid, "One butterbeer, please," she ordered pleasantly, before looking back at him. She placed her hand in his and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Eames," she said with another smile, "Though I like your first name too... I'm Iseabail Lamont," she introduced herself, her soft Highland accent pronouncing her name Ishbel, "But my friends call me Isha..."

Deciding suddenly that she had to know, even if it was rude to ask, she looked curiously at him. "Do I know you from somewhere?" she asked, slightly hesitantly, "I feel like you're familiar, but I can't place you... And I don't recognise your name..." He didn't seem like the type who would be offended by not being recognised - at least she hoped not. Generally, she had quite a good memory for faces, which was why it was annoying her that she couldn't remember who he was...