Between the drinks and subtle things [Annelise]

It was always extremely awkward to go to a certain club called Siren's. Half the women were dancing almost naked and the men were all drooling. Tate was providing the business with owl's recently. They just asked for a set of snowy delivery owls, which she had. It was Tatum Atherton's job to drop the owls off and make sure they were given the proper care. She was just happy that the owls were going to have a new home that actually was a thriving business. She always felt more comfortable giving them to businesses. That meant the owls were going to be used for what they are trained for. This place was still very uncomfortable for this tom-boy.

As she walked into the club, she was instantly stopped by a drunk man. She had her two owls in separate cages and she was wearing a pair of black slacks and a stripped shirt with a leather jacket. The man touched her arm as he spoke a comment about what does she use those owls for and if they could get a room. As her mouth dropped she shot glance at the hand, speaking firmly. "If you want that hand still I really expect you to remove it... thank you, have a nice day." She shot a smirk at him as he slowly removed his hand. How dare he think she was one of these dancers? Tatum never shows off her body, unless she was getting new ink. The only people whose really even seen her small frame was her tattoo artists. Men. They are pigs.

Tatum went up to one of the dancers holding the birds, "Excuse me, mate, I was dropping off these birds... do you know where I could put them?" She raised an eyebrow. The dancer looked familiar to her. Was that who she thought it was? "Uh--- Grace?" She shot shocked look at the woman while she still held the birds in her hands. She wanted to drop the birds and give the girl a hug, but first she had to make sure this was the right girl.... plus she did not want to hurt her babies.

”No, thank you hon,” Annelise whispered, making her way out of the private room. She was hard at work, so to speak, dressed provocatively in a strappy coral number that had been getting her a lot of attention. She let her hips sway as she made her way to the nearby bar, a few colleagues returning her smile. Slinking behind the counter, she grabbed her wand from the enchanted security rack. Quickly summoning a slip of parchment, she twirled her wand as silvery blue words spread across it. She was creating a bill. Finishing it off, she looked around, disappointed to see that the delivery owls weren’t at the ready. “I’ve been telling Leon we need to get more,” she whispered to a coworker as an old gray owl fluttered over. Folding the parchment neatly, she placed it in the bird’s talons. “For Mr. Worthingson,” she said, plainly. After a moment, the bird launched into flight, headed off to complete his task. Slipping her wand back into the security rack, she made her way around the bar. She wanted to take a few minutes before returning to work the floor.

She leaned against the counter, her heels accentuating her long legs. Her blond hair fell to her mid-back in one perfect, pin-straight layer. She wondered if it would be long before someone would want a private dance. She enjoyed her job (and the attention), but she wouldn’t mind spending a minute or two chatting with some girl friends at the bar. Her poppy blossom perfume permeated the air, light and sweet. She felt positively effervescent. Losing herself in chatter, Annelise’s colleague lit up at a sight beyond her shoulder. Turning to see for herself, she joined in the cheer, noticing a young girl bearing a set of snowy owls. “Well I’ll be,” Annelise said, to no one in particular. As she approached, Annelise couldn’t help but feel that she looked familiar. With each passing step, unease rose in her stomach. It couldn’t be, could it? As the tattooed woman approached, she felt paralyzed with fear. It could. It most definitely could be.

The girl inquired about delivering the birds, but Annelise remained frozen. She had the sudden urge to have a bulky, heavy coat on. Perhaps a veil, too. One of those beekeeping hats would be perfect. She watched the girls face, her stomach sinking as she saw her raise an eyebrow. She was a goner. It was all over. ”Uh--- Grace?” Annelise could feel the color draining from her face. She honestly wondered if she might faint. She felt her coworker’s hand on her elbow, a gesture of concern. She hadn’t heard that name in years. As one of her best mates from Hogwarts stood before her in this place, Annelise was overcome with a wave of guilt at vanishing from thin air. Grace Landon had died years ago, the day Annelise left her muggle home for the last time. Annelise had buried her under makeup and hair color and jewelry. Today though, for the first time in a long time, Grace Landon was alive and well. Just very, very pale. Finally coming to her senses, Annelise fell into defensive mode. She couldn’t let this illusion be shattered. Not this fast. Not even for Tate. Not even for Tate. “I – you got the wrong girl, love,” Annelise replied, trying to look relaxed. “Around here I’m just Delilah. Delilah Divine,” she finished, her voice as smooth as honey.

“Are you lookin’ for a dance?”

This girl looked just like Grace, her best friend from school years. They were practically attached at the hip and it just made her stomach hurt when the woman said she was not her. Tate raised an eyebrow slightly at the woman. The outfit she was wearing even made her feel even more awkward. She first thought she was her ex- best friend and now she was staring at the bright orange attire. Tate would never be able to show off her body like that. It would be completely horrifying. Plus, she really did not have a good figure in her opinon. Her bum was rather large and she had no chest and a boyish frame. As she asked her if she was looking for a dance a chuckle escaped her lips, "Definitely not..." she managed to choke out, while chuckling. "... I am here for other reasons."

She set the birds down onto the counter of the bar and reached in a black satchel upon her waist. "Two snowy owls, delivered and trained. New delivery birds for this joint. I just need a signature on a parchment saying you received them." This was normal for most deliveries. She wanted to make sure that the person knew the proper way of caring, but also so she would be able to get her payment for the birds. That was how she managed to get the rats for the owls to eat and how she trains them so well. Tate laid the parchment next to the owls and pulled out a bright blue quill with automatic ink in it. She handed it to the girl. "Just sign on the x right here..." She pointed to a spot close to the bottom. "Just says that you will feed, take care of, treat nicely, all that jazz. Make sure that your boss gets the other form on the back after you sign this." She flipped it to show care instructions and bill.

"You really look very much like my friend, its scary..." She smiled gently at the girl. "I can't see her as a dancer though. If I did I probably would smack the hell out of her." She smirked gently to herself. She cared to much for her friends.

Annelise laughed as Tate took her question in stride, totally willing to go with the flow. She was the same Tate she’d always been.  On some level Annelise envied this; but on the other, she couldn’t imagine her life as plain ol’ Grace Landon anymore. It was always strange to think of herself as two people, even though it was the closest thing to the truth. That’s probably why she avoided thinking about it at all. As Tate set the cages on the counter behind her, Annelise found herself mentally bouncing back and forth on whether or not she’d made the right decision. She hadn’t realized how lucky she’d been, having avoided all her old classmates over the years. This sudden confrontation with yesterday had certainly sent her reeling, and it wasn’t in a way she liked.

She nodded repeatedly as Tate gave the spiel about caring for the birds, trying very hard to focus on her words. She looked good, Annelise thought. Evidently she was a bird keeper now, which was interesting. She found herself wondering what she herself might have become if her life had gone according to plan. She had so many questions welling up inside her. She wanted to know how Tate was, how she’d been. Was she married? Did she have a boyfriend? Was she living her in London too? After all, it was a big city. With each whirring thought, she knew that she couldn’t voice any of them without outing herself. Suddenly she realized that Tate was holding the pages out for her to take. She needed her signature. She had a life to get on with, after all. “So, so I just have to sign this and then that’s it?” Annelise wondered aloud, cautiously. “I sign this and then you’ll go?” she added. She knew how ridiculous it sounded, but the words had already left her lips. There was no taking it back now.

She laughed nervously as Tate once again told her how much she resembled her “friend.” “Well I guess this Grace is a looker then,” she added with a little forced laughter. She was never, ever this awkward. It had taken mere minutes for her strongly constructed façade to melt away into the nervous, timid girl she’d once been. Just then, Tate revealed that she couldn’t imagine Grace as a dancer. Annelise felt anger rising in her chest as Tate continued, going as far as to say she’d “smack the hell” out of her if she had. Like the flip of a light switch, she was back. Suddenly, she found it easier than ever to distance herself from the situation.

“Yea, heaven forbid your friend end up here with us whores,” she spat, snatching the quill from the girl’s hand. She caught the eye of her lingering coworker behind the bar who, noticing Annelise’s impending anger, wandered off. “You know, it’s funny,” she continued, waving the plume of the quill in the space between her and Tate. “When I was a little girl, I used to just dream of the day when I could be all grown up take my clothes off for money!” Annelise raged, flipping her hair around as she quickly turned to sign the receipt. “Maybe things just didn’t work out for Grace,” she continued, now furiously scribbling her name along the line. “And if that were the case, and you happened to run into her in some stripper bar somewhere, maybe you could be just a little less judgmental,” she said, finishing her signature with a great flourish. With that, she whipped back around, holding both the quill and parchment out to the girl from her past. She took a breath. “All of this?” she continued, emphasizing the room around her, “It doesn’t come for free.”

Looking into Tate's eyes, she realizes this was less about anger and more about pain. "I'm pretty sure that in that moment, Grace would really just need a friend and not a jury." The blonde witch shook her outstretched arms, desperate to be relieved of the parchment that suddenly felt very heavy. She could once against feel the color fading from her face, and also some tears building deep inside of her. "Will you - can you - could you just take these?" 

As the woman in front of her spoke about signing and Tate leaving, she raised an eyebrow. Why was she basically pushing her out the door? Sort of rude. It hard to be the atmosphere or something... There there was a boyish girl toying around owls in your business you really did not want her scare the customers away. Plus she was pretty sure the man that confronted her in the front of the store was already complaining about one of their dancers turning him down, she was not a dancer though... he was a drunk idiot. She raised an eyebrow at the girl, shrugging. "Well, only reason I'm here is to drop these darlings off... so yes I'll get out of your hair after this." She did not care if she sounded rude or even remotely harsh. She was running a business, they were too.

As she mentioned Grace being a looker, she smiled. "She was gorgeous, just very shy." Grace was always prettier than her. Tate even knew that. The girl did not ever have an issue looking pretty. She just had a grace about her that Tate lacked. Tate was more rough, tough, and boyish. Grace was pure grace and beauty. It always made Tatum a little jealous, but she knew that they were always complete opposites. Even in houses they were opposites. Tate was a Slytherin and Grace was Gryffindor. They connected on the train just from being muggle-born students. Both born from muggle families and both venturing into a new surprise. Tatum was flabbergasted as the woman spoke up about whores. She really not mean it that way. As she snatched the quill from her hand she just wanted to grab her birds and leave. It was an instant reaction. Tatum was not the type of person to get mad. As she finally spoke up about running into her at a bar and then more comments that followed more.... Tatum knew who this girl was.

Grace.

As she asked her to take the items, she slowly reached for them just silent. It was hard to her to speak. She did not mean to hurt the main person she cared for out of Hogwarts. Slowly putting them in the bag a knot went in her throat, she looked back up and smiled. "Well, Grace still has a good friend here who is supportive of her no matter what she does." She smirked a little more,  "Also wanted to tell her orange does look good on her. I'm sorry- I did not mean it the way you took it.... I just want Grace to be protected and this place scares me from all the sleazeball drunken men. I was harassed just entering this place, I am just looking out for her." She waited for a second then out of nowhere hugged the woman in the orange outfit. It was a soft squeeze. More of an awkward squeeze. Tate was so much shorter than everybody. She pulled back for a second and coughed. "Sort of made it even more awkward, hmm?" An eyebrow raised.

"I missed you, Gr--" She stopped for a second. "Delilah."

Annelise felt her lower lip quivering steadily as Tate responded to her outburst. Her words were cool and collected, not at all like the raging idiocies Annelise had uttered. She was once again amazed by her friend; even after being verbally assaulted in a stripper bar, she wasn’t fighting fire with fire. Annelise folded her arms tightly across her chest, hugging herself more so than crossing them. She looked to the ground as Tate continued, not sure she’d be able to face the girl eye to eye. A little laugh escaped her as she complimented the orange, and that was enough to send a few somber tears trickling down her face. She wiped them away quickly, smiling through her sadness. There was a silent moment of acknowledgement after Tate finished speaking, only to be ended with a quick and somewhat uncomfortable embrace. Annelise laughed again as Tate noted the awkwardness of it all. Annelise then promptly pulled her in tightly for a proper hug.

She wasn’t sure how long she held her friend, though she did know that she was crying quite candidly now. She simply shook her head as Tate called her Delilah. Stepping back from their embrace, she looked into her friends eyes. “It’s Annelise now, actually,” she said plainly. “Delilah is my… my dancer name,” she said, feeling a bit ashamed about her job for the first time. She could count on one hand the number of people who knew she was a stripper outside of her coworkers. Now that a majority of her tears had finally been expressed, she started to come back to reality, quickly noticing that her little display had attracted some wandering eyes. Not wanting to further complicate things at her work, she looked to Tate with decisiveness. “Not here, follow me,” she said, instinctively gripping the girl’s hand and leading her forward. They rounded the bar swiftly and went down a narrow hallway, taking a winding staircase up into the dressing room area. Annelise led her friend into her private room, flipping on the circle of exposed bulbs around her mirror.

The space was small, but Annelise was lucky to have it at all. She’d furnished the entire space herself, wanting to be surrounded by her favorite things whenever she needed an escape at work. The pale pink vanity took up most of the space, boasting a large mirror covered with polaroids from parties past. She fondly remembered picking the piece up from an antique fair not too long after arriving in London. Opposite the vanity was a bright pink tufted ottoman that had seen its fair share of coworker visits. The far wall was rather plain, a sole black “A” imprinted on the surface above a hanging clothing rack. Annelise motioned for Tate to sit on the ottoman before shutting the door behind them and grabbing a purple silk robe off the rack. She quickly slipped it on and tied it, feeling relieved at finally covering herself. The vulnerability her emotions had drudged up was enough to leave the girl feeling exposed; her bare midriff hadn’t been doing her any favors.

Annelise settled on the small stool before her vanity, turning to face Tate. For a moment, she just smiled silently. “Okay,” she began, crossing her legs, “I know you probably have some questions, and I will answer them all I swear,” she began, motioning her arms in reassurance. “First, I’ve gotta say I’m sorry for my little display down there,” she offered plainly. “You’re the first person I’ve seen from… from back then,” she added, then meaning her days as Grace Landon. “Second,” she continued, leaning forward and resting a hand on her friend’s knee, “it’s really good to see you again Tate,” she finished, looking into her eyes warmly. It was the truth. She leaned back on her stool, elbows resting on the vanity behind her. “Though I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wish it were under different circumstances,” she joked nervously. She slowly turned around and grabbed a pack of cigarettes off of the vanity. She slipped one out before pausing to look at Tate. “Do you mind if I smoke?” she asked, tapping the butt of the cigarette against her palm in preparation. She found herself wondering just how much explanation lay ahead.