Ulterior Motifs

[Juliet Hughes]

Pubs were an amazing thing. All sorts of characters filled them, burned their throats with an obscene amount of alcohol, and then persisted to spew their life stories in a most deliciously dramatic fashion to anyone they thought was listening. Pubs were a fabulous thing. One could sit at the bar, daintily holding a martini in one hand, and watch the on goings, waiting for the perfect victim to reveal themselves, and then move in for the kill. The Leaky Cauldron was by far her most adored. You have your average folk, quickly ignored. But then you have the ignorantly talkative Hogwarts Students during break, clusters of professors during summer, and her ultimate favorite; Ministry members on break, most of which are likely to get drunk. Yes, she preferred those most of all. It was simply astounding, how much information a simple Regulations and Control of Magical Creatures clergy could give. Or a member from the practically non-existent Centaur Office. To think, the public owled her wanting to know the names of some of her sources. But, truth be told, she couldn't give them. Most of them were wasted enough to tell anything a "pretty lady" wished to hear, but still sober enough to refrain from giving a name.

Which was an ultimate pity. Names would mean employees in trouble. And if trouble sires three children, then Juliet Hughes was the eldest.

Raising her martini glass, her vibrant red lips left their mark on its coated rim. Sparing the bartender a smirk, Juliet returned her searching gaze to the pub inhabitants. Soon, very soon, a pigeon should reveal his, or even her, self. And if not, she would claim the bartender for conversation. A logical last resort; bartenders heard everything. It was just a matter of getting them talking. Usually Hughes refrained from wasting so much effort, but would in a last case scenario. Anything for a story.

And she desperately needed a story. Everything was old news. Deva this, Ministry that, Auror fired, blah blah blah blah blah. Boring. She either needed new material, or she needed a new angle. A new angle could be fun. But that required such a side-road to present itself. Until it did, she was quite willing to sit as she was now, in a bar, waiting to overhear something of interest. Eventually she would. And if it didn't happen before she lost patience, then some half-wasted fool was always lured in by the smell of her perfume, willing to take their changes with a single woman sitting alone. And those tales were always inflated.

But there was still hope for option A. Juliet was a slow sipper. Most of these idiots could go through five before she went through one. And that was if there were a stoic drinker.


(( Open! ))

[pevensie]

Ian watched as one of his favourite customers surveyed the rest of the patrons, just like always. Ms. Hughes was often in the Cauldron, milking the tipsy patrons for information. He had only spoken to her a few times, but he enjoyed watching her collect information. It provided a few moments of amusement in his normally dull job. Not that it was always boring, but during the year, when the children were gone, it could get awfully lonely. Wizards stopping in after work were boring, but when students and professors were about, there was always something going on.

Ian returned her smile when she gave it. The two times they had talked, it had been for information, something that he had an abundance of. He wasn't stupid, he knew when to withhold certain facts from her ears. Knowledge was power, and if one gave up their knowledge, then they were no longer powerful. A riddle that everyone knows the answer to is worthless. He had witnessed many men beguiled into telling her everything from their blood type to a rumour about the Minister's wife. He could bail them out, but where was the fun in that? "Here to interrogate my customers, again, Ms. Hughes?" He asked, resting his arms on the bar, his hazel eyes twinkling.

[Juliet Hughes]

The porky man resembling a toad that had tried to eat an ostrich was going on his forth, or was it fifth drink? By the looks of him, he didn't have much of a tolerance level and probably lost count himself. Simpering, Juliet considered it. An obvious pig and it was doubtful he truly had anything to give her. But, if no other options presented themselves...

She had just lowered her obnoxiously red high heels from the metal rim of her foot stool to the musty floor, when someone detoured her from the current objective. A familiar voice that Hughes cooperated with, if only for the fact that the man seemed to have no hard feelings against her using his location to harass members of the public. An interesting man, if a little bit too nice for his own good. Though she would not deny that it was his sense of innocence that kept her crueler nature at bay around him. Corrupting innocents was more nagging on the soul than ruining those who already were. Then again, that was assuming she had a soul.

"Always, Darling." She responded, letting her white teeth flash in contrast to the lipstick, winking at him as she toyed with her glass. "Are you going to call the Aurors on me? I always make sure to give you some business."

And she did. Juliet scratched those backs that scratched hers. If it was a man she snagged, they were always willing to buy her a drink, and she even challenged a few to a drinking contest. That helped both of them. She herself put money towards drinks if it was a woman.

[alfonztytusjedynak]

Nervous? Never. Worried? Maybe just a bit. But a person would never know it.

Walking into the Leaky Cauldron wasn't rare for Alfonz Jedynak, but lately it had been less common. His time had been occupied with other agendas and enjoyable times he'd only admit enjoyable to himself. In a few weeks his sister would be staying with him, and he could only imagine the damage control he'd have to do there. It made him feel as if he needed to relax a bit, and a routine Firewhiskey would definately help in this situation. One drink, and then back to the apartment to figure out what else needed to be done to prepare for guests.

As he entered the front doors of the tavern, his robes were up high around his neck, somewhat revealing who he was. All he needed was for a mob of fans, or haters coming up around him about the last game the Goblilns had had. He wasn't in the mood, nor was he in any mood to care about what others thought of him. All he wanted was a drink, and some time alone to think.

Alfonz walked up to the bar, far on the other side of where he stood with a woman, he had no smile, but no leathal aura surrounding him like there sometimes was. Holding out his hand, knuts on person, he tipped his head a bit at Ian to signal to him that he'd like a drink. He waited calmly to be waited on. One drink, pay, drink, leave...that was the plan.

[pevensie]

"What makes you think I won't?" Ian shot back. "I can see the headline now: Prominent Reporter Jailed for Harassing Citizens. I could get an awful lot of publicity out of it." He continued, as if seriously considering the prospect. "But technically I suppose that getting information out of drunk wizards is legal." He said, sounding sulky. He was unfazed by her flirting manner, unlike so many other men. Becoming infatuated with a woman like that was a dangerous thing, besides the fact that she wasn't his type at all.

He glanced to the side as he noticed another one of his favourite patrons. He got several celebrities in on occasion, but Jedynak was probably the most often spotted at the Tavern. Knowing his want for privacy, he said nothing to the Quidditch player as he slid a bottle of Firewhisky across the bar towards the swarthy man.

[alfonztytusjedynak]

Catching the Firewhiskey as he had done so many times before, Alfonz tipped his head and left the knuts on the bar. Enough for the drink, and a good sized tip as well. Ian was a good man, and knew how to please a cutomer, not to mention keep his mouth shut. It's one of the reasons Alfonz kept returning to the Cauldron. The privacy and comfort of not being disturbed.

Turning from the bar, a booth was empty in the back and Alfonz found himself wanting to sit and relax. In his pocket, a piece of parchment from his sister that he still needed to read. A letter from her probably discussing the details of the coming break. He walked toward the booth, and sat down, pushing himself into a corner. Taking out the letter and opening it, he sat with his Firewhiskey, and read what Celina had to write about.

[Juliet Hughes]

"Sounds like excellent publicity to me," she agreed, the smile widening into a true grin, "Perhaps you should call 'em, sugar. I'd love to see my name plastered in the headlines for once." A very hearty laugh followed that, also true. "And no laws, yet. I only break those for the big stories."

The few times she talked to Ian, Juliet had found the conversations rather enjoyable. Innocently charming nature, and better yet, no active interest. And a quick wit to battle her playfulness. And it was perhaps with that wit that he didn't cave. Smart boy. Another reason why she liked him. Friends were far and few between and too great of a luxury. But an associate she could show up to every now and then and talk casually over drinks... priceless.

Blue eyes followed the stranger in, the little alarms in her brain suddenly flashing and whirling. Target found. Sticking to her side of the bar, Hughes watched the silent stranger approach the bar and just as talkatively order a drink. Leaning shamelessly to the left, she tried to get a glance through the meager shield around his face. Only two breeds of victim did that; the famous kind and the criminal kind. Which made this one one of the two. The face was vaguely familiar, but he moved away too soon for a closer look.

Leaning back to the right, the martini glass met her lips again and she let some of the liquor slips past her lips. Tall, dark, and handsome placed himself at an empty booth. A very clear signal. But that was only if someone chose to heed it. A shame that her photographer wasn't here.

"Who's the hunk?" She asked Ian, tilting her head in the Lone Wanderer's direction, one eyebrow arched in mischief. It was good to know how far the distance was to the river was below the cliff before the jump. This way, when she did just, she would at least know if it was to her death.

[pevensie]

"That's for me to know, and you not to find out, I'm afraid." Ian smirked. His gaze went past her as he spotted a newly filled table of seniors. Grabbing three menus, he came out from behind the bar and placed one in front of each of the white bearded wizards. Returning to his customary place, he continued. "Just don't bother him, alright?" He could see the look in Hughes' eyes when Jedynak had entered. He had seen it many times before, and he didn't fancy Jedynak being her next victim.

"Although it will do terrible things to my Martini sales, I will throw you out if I see fit." Ian said sharply. He was horrible at being serious, he really was. But he just hoped that his protectiveness wouldn't further her interest.

[Juliet Hughes]

Eyes studied the money left on the counter through mascara-caked lashes. A decent amount for the drink and a very generous tip. Oooh, famous. And a bashful famous, too. He obviously wasn't into publicity. The smile on her lips twisted playfully, or he had reason to hide. Either way, some alone time with Mr. Hunky was looking all the more appetizing. Just one problem...

"That's for me to know, and you not to find out, I'm afraid. Just don't bother him, alright?... Although it will do terrible things to my Martini sales, I will throw you out if I see fit."

Oh yes. The is one left good tips. Very good tips. And very often. Resting her head daintily against her arm on the bar, she flashed Ian a mischievous smile.

"Aww, come on, Pevensie, lighten up a little would you? You're more flattering when you're not being serious." Another glance over to the booth and the tip of her tongue ran over her lips as she considered her choice of action. Then it struck her. The bartender should know by now; reporters always played close attention to vocabulary.

"So, I can't bother him," she replied sweetly, "So, by your definition, as long as I don't give him any trouble through pestering or annoying, I can buy another round for a lonely man who looks like he can use it and bring it over myself." The eyelashes batted to polish off the innocent facade. "I'll even let you come with me and supervise."

[pevensie]

Ian cocked his head to one side, his lop-sided smile incredulous. "You think so, eh?" He said in answer to her twisting of his words. "Well, it's him that would be bothered, therefore, he decides whether you bother him or not. You buying him a round could bother him, y'know." He thought about it for a long time.

It paid to have a celebrity customer, and not just directly. People were more likely to buy a drink and stay a night if they knew a famous wizard did. But, then again, no one even knows Alfonz Jedynak comes here. If a few rumours drifted out about it, where was the harm. "Alright..." He murmured to Hughes. "You go over there, you buy him a drink, you ask him a few questions, and then you leave him alone. You do not say or do anything that would keep him away from my fine establishment. " He made an effort to sound firm, but he couldn't keep himself from grinning. He made as if to leave, but turned around before he made it far. "Oh yeah, and the cute and innocent thing? Wasn't fooling anyone."

[alfonztytusjedynak]

Meanwhile, Alfonz Jedynak was finishing up his firewhiskey and the letter that he was still holding in his hands. Only a month before his younger sister would be around again and the letter did everything but finalize what they'd be doing during the break. It also told of an upcoming quidditch match, which had Aflonz smirking widely. The snitch pin in Celina's possession, it was only a matter of time. If those two brats couldn't do the job he so easily asked of them, then he would have to do it himself. It always did come down to that when it came to other's being involved, but Alfonz knew that his plan was foolproof.

As for the woman at the bar talking with Pensive, Alfonz never noticed...nor cared. He was just there finishing up some thinking and enjoying a glass of whiskey that he hoped would linger on his tongue before going home. Lifting the last sip to his mouth, he drank it down slowly, and played with the empty glass for a bit in his hands. One glass every now and again was all he needed, and it was a great sensation; the burning in the back of his throat. It told him he was still alive. Excellent.

Alfonz folded the letter and put it away, almost thinking about getting just one more drink.