Drinking and Chatting {Open}

Quinn had been sitting at the bar for a little while.  He had just started the transition to moving into Hogwarts so that he could teach in the upcoming term.  He still hadn't set his classroom up, but moving his own things there seemed like a reasonable good start.  Well, one worth a drink anyway.

He had arrived early, long before the crowds as he was apt to do.  He enjoyed watching the place change.  Watching as bars went from those just getting a drink or a bite of food transition to those after very different things.  Some to remember old friends, some to forget, some to find comfort in the cold glass, and others in a warm body.  He didn't necessarily feel the need to partake in any of it, sometimes content to merely be an observer on the human experience.

Tonight wasn't much different.  This was his last real night living in London having given up his apartment.  The free room and board was to good a deal to pass up.  That little winch had used up his rent money anyway, so closing had been his only real option.  The last months rent though, well it was going to the concoction of liquids that came before him.

His glass was tall and frosted.  A dark amber with a small amount of froth resting on top was half way done by the time he heard the witch order next to him.  It had had many friends, but they were all gone now, just as this one would be soon and a new glass to replace it.  

"That's a bold claim to tell the bartender off the bat, might not even give you he house discount."  He would say with a small chuckle.  In fact he had mostly just been thinking it in his head, but having had more than one it had been spoken with his actual voice rather than the one in his head.  

Well, however it had happened he had said it.  So he took another drink and looked at the newcomer to the bar.  Many had come and gone, and he wondered what this one was really after.  Many came to drink, but it wasn't usually the drink that really was the prize, more so what the drink gave them in return.

His hair had been slicked to the side, trimmed short.  He was freshly shaven still attempting to look proper for his new position in academia.  He wore black slacks and patterned shirt with a black bow tie.  In all it set him apart from wizards and witches, but alas he just couldn't get comfortable in those dresses they called robes.  "I'm Quinn, nice to meet you."  He would say with a half smile, might as well introduce himself and not just be that weird commentator.

Outfit:

"Pleasure....". He would say to her taking another drink.  "And why not both?  I'm an over achiever myself, so no need to quit half way."  He would jokingly say regarding her first point.  His face still in a crooked smile taking in her accent.  French he would say but only because it was obvious.  He was hopeless with most languages and unless it was smacking him in the face, he was likely to miss it entirely.  He often blamed the American in him.  His own accent standing out among the European voices.

"Wouldn't say regular.." he would begin to say after she asked her question.  "Last night living in London.  Turn in my apartment keys in the morning, a month sooner than expected so next months rent...". He would say spreading his hands out gesturing to the bar before him.  

"What about you?  What's the terrible pick up line?  Come here often?"  He would say clearly making a jest towards the typical pick up lines one might here on the bar stools at any establishment, muggle or wizard.

The crowd around them would continue to get a little rowdier as the night went into its apex.  As she answered he'd tap the bar and two small shot glasses of a clear yet smoking liquid would appear.  No matter her answer he would pick his up and nod it towards the his french companion.  Shooting it back it would briefly cause smoke to come from his ears.  HonestlyC wizards made the weirdest drinks what happened to good old Kentucky bourbon.