1995-02-13: The Leaky Is Full


Whitmore_icon.gif Christian_icon.gif Thalia_icon.gif Sirius_icon.gif Tiana_icon.gif

Scene Title The Leaky is Full
Synopsis Quiet chatter over breakfast
Location The Leaky Cauldron
Date Feb 13, 1995
Watch For Hidden motives peering through.
Logger Mister Whitmore

It's an early morning, before people are due in the ministry, and Whitmore sits at a table in the Leaky Cauldron, eating his breakfast. He seems to keep an eye watching the room, taking everything in. There is no one really sitting near him, and that doesn't seem to bother the man. He takes a bite of egg and watches a regular patron having a heated discussion with another wizard. It's a normal morning in the old Leaky. For the most part.

The front door opens for a few seconds, and Christian slips in followed by a gust of cold wind and a small snow flurry. There is some griping from the weary early morning patrons, but nothing too serious as Chris shuts the door behind him. "Ghastly weather," Christian mutters under his breath to no one in particular.

From his vantage point in one of the darker corners, Whitmore notices Christian come in. He recognizes him from around the ministry, but doesn't yet know him personally. "It definitely is, isn't it?" He gives a smile and takes a sip of his tea. "Busy place today. There doesn't seem to be any room elsewhere…" And sure enough the tables and chairs appear filled. Were they filled before Christian came in? "If you don't mind sitting with a quiet stranger, you may share my table."

"Half a moment and I will," Christian says with a soft smile. He turns to the bar and orders something quietly. The bartender pours a black cup of coffee, and then puts alittle bit of some other dark liquid into it. "Thank you," Chris says, accepting the drink and walking over to Whitmore's table. "Thank you for your hospitality."

A satisfied smirk crosses Whitmore's face and then it's schooled back into the polite smile that he's worn since he saw the other man. "No thanks are necessary." The whole tavern is filled this early morning, or so it seems, and Christian, the newcomer, has just moved to sit down next to Whitmore in one of the dark corners. "It's the least I can do for a fellow Ministry man." His smile widens slightly, as if there is a private joke between them. A shared camaraderie. "I've seen you around the ministry building from time to time." He doesn't blatantly ask for an introduction, but merely hints at it, letting the man commit himself if he will.

Christian sits across from the man, and leans back in his chair. "Indeed," He says sipping at the 'coffee.' "Christian Faulkner, Hitwizard and currently off of work for the moment."

Thalia comes into the pub in a whirl of happy. It seems something has gone right today - several somethings, probably, because Tally is pretty much glowing with happiness. Once the door swings shut behind her, she does a shuffle-ball-change-and-repeat on the wooden floor. Her ballet flats - which look like someone has attacked them with a Muggle Bedazzler - make swishing noises as she walks over to the bar, intent on ordering something fruity. Preferably with a high sugar content.

Mister Faulkner." He nods politely. "I am Whitmore." He doesn't offer his given name, and chooses to keep to surnames, but the tone of his voice is quite friendly, in fact, it insinuates close friendship without the promise thereof. He looks up when the door swings open, and notices Thalia enter. "Ahh. The lovely Miss de Riviat. Do you mind if she sits with us, Mister Faulkner?" As there appears to be nowhere else for the lady to sit. "I myself work… on a lower level." In more ways than one.

"So you are an Unspeakable?" Christian says, raising an eyebrow. "I must say, my curiosity is always peaked by the lower levels of the ministry. Though, I have so far had the willpower to keep it in check. It is always enjoyable to meet other works of the ministry." He grins, then turns to see the flurry of color that just entered the room. He grins to Tally, but doesn't say anything hust yet. He sort of sits and admires for a second.

Fruity drink: activate. It doesn't seem to stay just one colour and bubbles noticeably, and Tally seems deeply pleased by both of these attributes. With a sip, she turns away from the bar, eyes scanning the crowd. Is she looking for a particular someone? It's not entirely out of the question. She's still humming happily under her breath, and she sways slightly, as if she's on the verge of dancing.

Whitmore doesn't answer the question of his specific job straight out, which is a very good clue that he actually is an Unspeakable. He just smiles and gives a polite nod, as though listening to Christian's words. "Do join us, Miss de Riviat." He raises his voice slightly, and gestures grandly to an empty seat. He steeples his fingers, resting his pointer fingers on his chin, lowering his volume again. "Indeed. It is extremely interesting, though we do have our means of keeping… our little secrets." His voice becomes soft, as though by merely speaking of their existence, he is breaking some cardinal rule.

In a whirl of dark robes and cloak, Sirius strides in from the front door of the Leaky Cauldron. His intent? Simply to pass through and onto Diagon Alley. From the corner of his eye, he catches two faces that are familiar, one more so than the other. It's an old habit of watching over his shoulder, and one he's a bit grateful for. He could use the friendly face of Christian, plus he never did get to respond to the man's owl. So putting his current errands on hold for the moment, he detours over to where Christian is seated. Thalia is given a nod, as is Whitmore, who Sirius is not familiar with.

Christian says, "Hey there, the man. "Mr. Black," he says with a hearty chuckle. "it is good to see you." he extends his hand to Sirius. “How's it going?"

Thalia leans back against the bar as Sirius nears, giving the man a cheerful wave with her free hand. "Hiya, Mister Black." She turns, and spots Christian. Tally's mouth curves upwards in a grin, and another wave is given, this time to Christian and his unknown - to her - companion.

Intriguing. Whitmore's glance travels up to gaze at Sirius. "Mister Black." He doesn't say any more at the moment, choosing instead to take another bite of his food. After a long moment of silence, he smiles slightly, and comments, "Well, I suppose congratulations are in order." Tally is also given a quick look, as she has chosen to find somewhere else to sit. This also is interesting to him. "How do you find freedom?" He continues to offer small talk to Sirius, even as he gazes at Tally. It's not blind adoration like fans, but more like detached, clinical interest.

The smile Sirius offers Christian is tight and doesn't quite meet his eyes. He's been under a good bit of strain recently. "I got your owl Mr. Faulkner, I apologize I haven't made a timely response," he reaches a hand out to shake Christian's offered one. "It's a pleasure seeing you under much friendlier circumstances." He turns to Thalia, greeting her too. "Good morning to you as well, Miss de Riviat. I apologize for rushing out on our last meeting." Things turned more urgent than he initially realized. Looking at Whitmore, a bit studiously, he says, "I find freedom a bit odd." There really isn't much of
Christian offers Sirius a seat at his table. "Please would you join me for a moment?" He says with a grin. "Mr. Sirius Black, this is Mr. Whitmore also with the ministry." He looks at his now cold coffee. "If you gentlemen would excuse me for half a moment, I need a refresh. Can I get you anything Mister Black?"

Thalia looks around in search of a place to sit, for now just leaning against the bar. "Not a problem, Mister Black. I imagine you've got quite a dramatic life. And do call me Thalia, Mister Black. Or Tally." When Whitmore indicates for her to join them, she obliges with a smile.

"I suppose that would be the case, Mr. Black." Whitmore continues to use surnames. "It is a pleasure to be formally introduced. Of course, everyone feels like they know you after having your story splashed across the pages of the Prophet." He gives another smile, this one more sardonic. "But that barely scratches the surface, I've found, if it even gets that right." He takes another couple bites of food, and then, mouth cleared, he gives Thalia a smile. "Welcome. This is Mr. Faulkner, and you seem to have met Mr. Black." He is exceptionally pleased about something, but it's really not clear what that might be. "I hear you have a new venture, Miss de Riviat? How does that proceed?" How he knows these things is also unclear.

"No thank you Mr. Faulker," Sirius says, declining Christian's offer as he takes the seat. "Ah, a pleasure then Mr. Whitmore." Not that Sirius has much love or trust for the Ministry. A smile is offered Thalia, and a nod to acknowledge her permission to go on a first name basis. "More dramatic than I like, I must admit." Only too dramatic because his Godson's involved. Beyond that? Danger? HA, he laughs in the face of danger. Relaxing a little into his seat, he turns to converse with Whitmore, "Indeed. It also does not help at all to have been misunderstood for over a decade." He shrugs, "Water under the bridge now. There's nothing to do but go forward."

Christian nods and walks over to the bar where he politely asks for Tom to refill his coffee mug. After a few moments, he smiles and nods a thank you before returning to the table to sit. He sips from the warm beverage. "Much better," Christian says with a sigh.

Stepping carefully, Tiana's heels click-clack against the wood of the stairs and then the floor. She's dressed sharply today - as always - in a pair of flexible black pants, a low-cut silver silk blouse and rather form-fitting open robes of black. Her glamours are firmly in place, though toned down from the ones she wears around the Muggles; harder to detect or pull out from her natural appearance. As she moves across the room to look for a quiet place to eat her breakfast, the woman seems to realize that the place is…utterly full. That's…really, very odd for this time of morning. Oh well. "Tom?" she asks quietly at the bar. "May I have my usual meal? I believe I will take it up to my room today."

Whitmore takes a sip of his own tea, deciding to cast a surreptitious warming charm on his mug. He gives Sirius what appears to be an understanding nod. "I have some fair notion of how that feels myself. Not quite a decade, mind you, but…" Once again, no elaboration is given. Tiana's cultured, accented tones draw Whit's attention, and he turns toward her, appraising her and then returning to the group around his table. "Going forward is always the best bet, I do believe."

"Looking back does no one any good," so says the man who can't help but dwell in the past, and quite often. Since this isn't one of those proverbial pissing contests, Sirius doesn't add 'but you didn't go to Azkaban,' to Whitmore's words. Leaning back further in his seat, he rests his hand on the table, drumming his fingertips against the surface. "Needless to say, there is a lot of lost time to try and catch up on." He too notices Tiana as she approaches the bar. A dead man would notice that. (Which isn't to say he didn't notice Thalia, not at all.) Breaking his gaze away, he turns back to Christian, "So what duty have you been put on now? Or is it back to the normal work routine?"

Christian's gaze turns to Tiana as she walks down the stairs. He turns back to Whitmore as he speaks. "There really isn't the option to go back," He chuckles. "Forward is the only way." He sips his coffe as Sirius speaks. "No doubt you've heard the news from Azkaban?" He states, rather than actually asking. "It is all hands on deck at the moment. My department is focused on the recapture of these criminals. No rest for the weary." He smiles, but it has no mirth. For a second, the man looks as though he hasn't slept in days.

Tom nods, all obliging and kindness - the pretty Miss Moldavia has always been generous after all - but the meal will take a moment to prepare. Tiana is in no hurry. She came down early just for the express purpose of being able to eat her meal slowly. Rushing leads to indigestion, or didn't your mother tell you? Turning around so she can lean back on the bar and observe the various patrons, she lets her ice blue eyes roam over the room. She notices those looks - how could she not, when seeing such things could mean the difference between having dinner and going hungry? - and plays to them a little, just out of habit. Her chest is maybe thrust out just a little more than it has to be, her hair tossed over her shoulder just so… The sad thing is that these little things she used to have to think about are second nature now.

"Then we're all in agreement." Whitmore lifts his cup of tea, and nods his head lightly. "To going forward." He smiles a secret smile and takes a slow sip. His eyes, however, have been drawn back to Tiana, and watch her position herself just exactly so. However, staring outright just isn't Whit's style, so he returns his attention to the meal, taking slow bites and looking at each person at his table in turn.

Sirius's expression darkens the moment Christian mentions that place. His eyes grow cold and his words have a bit to them. "Of course I've heard." His cousin who makes the Mad Hatter look sane is back on the streets. That's something he cannot ignore. "Good luck with that, you will need it. That lot won't return quietly, and will gladly kill those who try to take them in." Without warning, he gets up from his seat, finding it quite difficult to maintain chitchat when there are things to be done. "It was a pleasure meeting you again, Thalia, and to making your acquaintance, Mr. Whitmore. Mr. Faulkner, do take care." With that, he breezes back out the front of the pub.

Christian turns to watch Sirius go. "Farewell Mr. Black," he says with a sigh. "It never stops. If its not one thing its another. I thought I honestly could have had a break before the next crisis. No such luck huh?" He says this to both Thalia and Whitmore.

Watching Sirius leave in what seems to be a bit of a huff, Tiana turns to accept her meal, leave payment on the counter - in pound notes, always in pound notes - and then hip-sways her way back across the room and up the stairs. Her only concession to those around her is that she tosses Christian a wink and a smile as she passes their table.

As Tiana moves past their table, Whitmore attempts to catch her eye. Just for a split-second. There is nothing to be conveyed, really, just a connection that might show more of his inner demons than he may really want exposed to the light. He takes another slow sip of the hot tea and sets the cup back down gently, all proper and correct. Sirius' departure gets a glance and a quiet 'Farewell'. No more.

Christian quirks a friendly smile to Tiana as she moves by. "Who is that?" He asks Whitmore as she get outside ear shot. "She seemed interested in Sirius for a while there."

Whitmore doesn't answer Christian's question. He doesn't know the answer, so he just ignores it completely. "Mister Black does look well," he offers, adding his comments to the conversation. "It was a tragedy to have someone so wrongly accused." He takes another few bites, and sits in silence, not offering any more.

Christian nods quietly. "When he was arrested the public was very quick to blame anyone they could link with the Death Eaters," He says, leaning back and sipping his coffee. "Sirius was an easy slam dunk. Not only do you have a mass paranoia looking for something to lash out at, but there is also a scandal angle. He was the Potter's friend. The public loves a fallen Angel." He sighs and stares into the dark liquid of the mug.

Whitmore's only comment to the 'Fallen angel' remark is one of mild disbelief. "Do they now?" He drains his tea and finishes his breakfast, gazing over at the door where Sirius walked out. "I did hear the news about the trial." He managed to read the transcripts, as a matter of fact. "Labels are so useless at times. People become defined by them, and then when they change, or when the situation merits, the labels become lies." He gazes out beyond the confines of his table. "What are you looking for in life, Mister Faulkner?"

"Someone else asked me that question recently," Christian says absently. "I sometimes wonder what it means anymore." He chuckles and gazes around the room. "I want to be bored. I want to have nothing to do. To be perfectly honest, every cop's dream is to be bored out of their skulls. You see, when we are working, it somethings wrong. However, if we are bored, then everything is quiet."

"You really would like to have nothing to do?" Whitmore asks, with a serious mien. "I'm sure that could be arranged." There is a dark cell that he could put the man in. "I can't believe you would want to be completely bored. Perhaps you wish for something a little more… concrete. Like fewer attacks in your area?" He seems to be leading to something, but it's not certain what that might be. Or what the consequences are. "That would make things more quiet, would they not?" At least for Christian.

"I should be careful what I wish for," Christian amends. "Just no problems that need solving. Just peace. For my department to sort of be superfluous really." He finishes the coffee and puts the cup back down. "I'm sure you understand the sentiment."

"I do understand the sentiment. World peace, contentment and joy for all." It's an impossible dream in Whitmore's mind, but he merely nods, and reaches into his pocket to get the galleons to pay Tom. "I need to be heading to my work, and I'm sure you do as well, shortly." If he knows 'beat cops.' "It was a pleasure having this conversation, Mister Faulkner." He smiles again, all politeness and propriety.

"Indeed Mister Whitmore," Christian says rising. "We must do this again sometime." He grins and offers his hand to the other man.

Whitmore reaches out to take the hand and shake it, firmly and quickly, and then he stands, moving to the bar to pay and head toward the door. "Do…" How did Sirius phrase it? "Do take care, Mister Faulkner. I shall most definitely see you again." And he's gone.

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