1994-09-08: Down To Business


Sechnall_icon.gif Wade_icon.gif

Scene Title Down to Business
Synopsis Sechnall and Wade discuss a deal involving potion ingredients.
Date September 8, 1994
Watch For Floating breakfast
Logger Sechnall

The Leaky Cauldron

It is very dary and shabby inside this tiny pub, the air full of the smell of pipe smoke. A few old women sit in a shadowy corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. A little man in a top hat is talking to the old bartender, who is quite bald and looks like a toothless walnut. A low buzz of chatter fills the room continuously, sometimes augmented by the sounds of laughter or a scraping chair as somebody rises. Down past the end of the bar, a door leads into the small back storeroom. In the opposite direction, a small parlor branches off from the common room, and from there a handsome wooden staircase leads upwards to a hallway of rooms for rent, each bearing a brass number.

Perhaps in order to escape the gray, cloudy weather on this typical English evening, Sechnall has decided to spend his time here in the Cauldron surrounded by.. gray, cloudy smoke. Hm. Well, at least there's decent food to be had; the remains of a light dinner are sitting in front of him on a plate, and a shot glass full of a dark amber-colored liquid sits nearby. The alchemist picks up the latter and sips gingerly on it, his doleful brown eyes flitting around the room. Up until now he'd been eavesdropping on the conversation between two rather colorful sorts who seemed to be some kind of dealers in Magical Creatures, but just a moment ago they exited simultaneously. Despite being a repeat customer here he isn't very fond of the bartender, and so for the moment he appears to be keeping to himself.

Wade is making small stop in the Cauldron, the man having likely just returned from one of his errands. The basket he carries under one arm betrays him, wicker container filled with several tiny wrapped packages and boxes. Feet carry him slowly into the gloomy room from near the back, the man stopping only briefly at the bar, having small word with man behind before he passes on. A table is selected, one close to the familiar man, and there Wade settles.

Sechnall's eyes soon land on Wade as the Unspeakable enters. Recognizing him from the other day, the alchemist nods politely once the other man has seated himself. "Oh, hello, Mister - Arelmore, if I'm not mistaken? I sometimes have a terrible memory for names," He half-apologizes, peering curiously at the wicker container. He idly wonders if there are any more strange insects hidden inside of it, although he's too polite to inquire. "You're having a pleasant evening, I hope?"

"Mr. Swancoate." The reply is surprised, Wade's head lofting upward, eyes flicking back and forth until he catches the man. He may have been unnoticed before, but it's fixed easily enough. "You're correct, on both counts." Basket is nudged aside, set to the center of the table before his hands fold together on the wooden surface. "Yourself? I'd been meaning to pay you a visit."

The shopkeeper looks to be pleased enough that his own name has been remembered in turn - much of the time, he's found, people seem to easily forget it. Not that /that/ doesn't have its advantages. He takes another sip of his drink, whatever it is, and lifts his brows. "Oh, is that so? In need of potion ingredients, Mr. Arelmore? Or perhaps alchemical expertise?" Clearing his throat just a little, he chuckles. "Ah, and hm, my day has been quite productive. I managed to get quite a bit of work done back at the shop."

"It must be interesting," Wade mentions, "To work there. I considered it, but I took a longer road." There's a slight smile, brief curl of lips before hand reaches for basket. "Ingredients, actually. Some of them may be harder to find than others, but if your friend you mentioned is any good," The last is left unsaid, small and curled sheet of parchment yanked from the container afterward.

Sechnall's interest seems to be slightly piqued by the ambiguous statement that Wade makes, but since the Unspeakable had already mentioned that he's not at liberty to discuss his profession further.. although Wade does smile just a bit himself, almost wryly, for reasons unclear. "Oh, my friend is very reliable. I can't necessarily guarantee he'd have what you're looking for, but.." He chuckles and swishes the amber liquid in his glass around daintily before raising it to his lips again. "I have quite a few suppliers. It's good business practice to have people to fall back on when you're looking for something out of the ordinary."

"I'm sure it is." Another nod, the man pausing when he receives gift. It's a plate, floating cylinder stacked with what might be eggs and some kind of meat. It looks, unfortunately, not terribly appetizing. The Unspeakable merely nudges it with fork provided, keeps most of his attention upon the other man. "I've become dissatisfied with my current supplier, and I thought I'd give you a chance."

"Well, I do very much appreciate the business. If you'd like to stop by the shop tomorrow, feel free to do so at any time. I'll probably be there late working on something, so if we're closed up you can just knock to see if anyone is still around," Sechnall responds, eyeing the floating platter of food. Well, if there's one thing going for the Leaky Cauldron, it's consistency. Even if that means consistent unimpressiveness, at least that's something. "Hm. Not to pry, Mr. Arelmore, but what year did you graduate? I was class of '79, myself."

"Did you know that the dead prize their food by how awful it is?" His attention seems to have wandered, that remark made with another jab of fork to meat. Like it might suddenly up and attack if not chastised properly. He does take a bite eventually, swallowing before proper answer is formed: "'69. I believe that'd make me older."

There's a quick blink at the seemingly random piece of information from Sechnall. He drains the last of the liquid from his glass and gives a soft cough, raising it and glancing over to the bartender until he's spotted. Soon enough a second glass is hovering over just as Wade's food had. "Is that a fact, Mr. Arelmore?" He's not asking skeptically, as one might expect most people to under the circumstances - he is, after all, a Ravenclaw. "Ah, yes, I suppose it would. No younger brothers or sisters, then?"

"It is," The man assents, "If one of them asks you to eat with them, be sure to inform that that you'll bring your own meal. I had to learn that the hard way." The fact that he carries two conversational strings at once doesn't seem to bother the man, another bite taken before he returns to the other matter. "I'm afraid not. Cousins aplenty, one son who'll graduate soon, but I was an only child." Faint smile touches at his lips. "It was nice."

The advice about eating with expired persons is only answered with a nod. It's not clear whether Sechnall takes it seriously or not, but he doesn't appear to exhibit an attitude of disbelief. "Ahh, I see. And I thought that we might have been contemporaries, if not in school than vicariously through others. It seems that's not the case, however." The alchemist smiles wanly and glances down at his glass of brandy for a moment longer before draining it in one long swill and then sighing. "Ah.. well, I had probably better be off, Mr. Arelmore. Early day tomorrow."

"I'm afraid not. If it were otherwise I'd prefer, especially if I could shed a few years in the process." Another bite, gnash of teeth before head dips down again. "Good luck, then. I'll be stopping by to see about that list. In the meantime, I hope business will keep booming." Genial smile is offered in parting, gaze returning to plate afterward.

"Excellent. I look forward to your visit, then." Sechnall nods to the other man and then stands, walking over to the bar quickly to pay his tab before he makes for the back door and its 'blank' brick wall. After slipping through the dingy little entryway he disappears from sight.


Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License