[Leaky Cauldron] Always keep your heart locked tight [Steenie]

Parthenia was getting better and better at dressing for the weather, but even with that small success in mind, there was no chance she was stomping her way into a pair of rainboots just to get a bite to eat elsewhere, even if she was sick of the food at the Leaky Cauldron. Besides, it sounded like a better idea to be able to go downstairs in something she was comfortable in, even if she was going to end up eating one of these bland, British dishes. She might not even have to wear a sweater if she stayed close enough to the fireplace.

February was dreadful in Western Europe, and it was times like now that Parthenia asked herself why she didn't just go back home to Greece where things were just slightly warmer, where she could just hang around the house all day and eat and sleep for free. Here, she performed fortune tellings services to muggles on the street to pay for her room and board, and on days when money was tight, she offered to do chores in the kitchen and clean guest rooms. The manager was very kind to Parthenia, and even though she knew that it was only because he, a grubby wizard pushing 80 who always had bits of beer and bread in his beard, had a crush on her, she played it to her every advantage. She would stay as long as she was welcome, but now that she was approaching her third weekend in the small, dusty apartment she kept, she was starting to get the itch in her feet to keep on moving.

In a pair of wafer thin slippers, a cotton dress that fell just beneath her knees, and an old wool blend blanket draped over her bare shoulders, Parthenia took a seat beside the fire and tucked her feet underneath her, waiting for a cup of tea to make it's way over to her table. Being alone in London without any friends or connections was rough at times, but the amount of studying she had done was amazing. She'd rented books on Astronomy, her field of specialty, and was doing lots of meditation. She wanted to have another vision, and increase the strength of her inner sight.

Fortune telling, however, was difficult and strenuous. She didn't like talking to strangers, and she didn't like soliciting services to people. Fortune telling was an art of energies and fate, was uplifting and was often a driving force in lots of positive events in the lives of the people she spoke to. The right words could spark an attitude revolution, and even if Parthenia didn't particularly care for people (especially not the people she spoke to on the streets), it was still a fairly good avocation. Sometimes, however, it was downright dangerous. Messing around with the wrong person could bring about potential bodily harm, and working with muggles (as easy to manipulate as they were) brought about different sorts of challenges. There was no wand work that could save her in the middle of Piccadilly Circus. This knowledge became all-too-real when she received the ass whooping of the century, courtesy of a drug addict and her boyfriend on her way back from a long days work, having nearly 40 Pounds stolen from her bag. They'd almost made it away with her wand, too, but she wouldn't part with that without a fight, and a fight was exactly what she got.

Rubbing the back of her sore neck, she stretched her arm across the table and looked at her fingertips and the hangnail on her index finger. Stupid muggles...

"Fuckin', got him again!" Steenie Allen's voice was amplified across the empty alleyway, followed by a chorus of loud laughter from himself and the crew of three other Quidditch players that'd decided to make a bar run after practice.

The only one that wasn't laughing, was Bruce, who Steenie had pushed into a puddle that his own teammate, Phillip, had charmed earlier to be around four feet deep. The water was murky and gross, and Steaphan reckoned he saw a little bitty frog in there somewhere. His half drunk, half high self, was kind of hoping it'd find a way to crawl into his pants. Phillip was a right arsehole earlier in the day, and even though he wasn't even a Beater and definitely didn't have the muscle to be a beater, he'd decided to knock into Steenie, almost knocking him off his broom before he'd snatched the bat right out of the Scot's hand. Steenie didn't even know why he'd done it, but he'd gotten him back.

Carlos' laughter was the one that made Steenie laugh even more - some how he'd sounded like a barking seal. He almost tripped trying to run away from the angry redheaded man that was climbing his way out of the hole that the others had literally put him in.

He found refuge in a place he'd been a few times before, although not enough to know like the back of his hand, like some of the bars he's frequented in the past. It was called something like the Leaky Pot or something or another, although Steenie didn't know, or care to know, the name of the place. As long as they had beer, Steenie was perfectly content with their newfound location. He'd only ordered for himself when he'd walked over to the bar and leaned on it, letting the wooden structure take his weight as opposed to just standing on his own. The cup full of amber liquid got to him in record time, although he supposed that was because of the fact that there were few people.

All it took was a glimpse of blonde hair for Steenie to start heading in the direction of the fire, with hopes that the girl wearing it might be as pretty as he imagined her. Sitting across from a beautiful lass and making an ass of himself wasn't the worst idea he'd had. Hm, Steenie smiled to himself, once he spotted the open chair right next to the girl, perfect. What better place to harass a stranger, than right next to them?

The nineteen year old did his best to slide into the chair next to the girl, thinking that sliding in from the side would look much cooler than just sitting in the chair normally. Before he could stop himself, he'd found that he was falling, toppling his way towards whoever the lady was, his beer tipping out of his hand and landing on her lap, and all over his chest as well. "Aw, fuck," Steenie used her shoulder to help push himself up, letting the cup settle on her lap as he did his best to stay steady. "Shit, wow," Next, his hand went to the top of her head, pushing down while he tried to sit himself on the arm of her chair. "Wow, that was crazy unexpected, innit?"

When a herd of wild buffalo came stumbling through the door, Parthenia turned completely around to look which was completely out of character. Usually she shrugged at any bump in the night and ignored other human beings like an indifferent feline. She was usually content to just mind her own business, but she heard their obnoxious wailing from what she suspected was halfway down the alley, and the scowl she had on her face could perhaps scare them into submission.

It would not be that easy, however. She rolled her eyes when her icy gaze wasn't met, and returned to the freshly steeped cup of tea that had just made it's way over to her. While she waved "thanks" to the barman (who was now tending to the rambunctious strangers), she blew air across the top of the hot liquid, closing her long fingers around the outside of the ceramic. As long as there were plenty of open seats in the bar for the boys to find their way into, she would be happy. She was relieved to see some of them making their way into a booth. There was one straggler, one that she supposed could possibly be the drunkest of the bunch.

She was met with a cold realization, and she wished that it wasn't quite so literal. A glass of beer came flying from the grasp of a young, big fat curly headed fuck boy, right into Parthenia's lap, drenching the white dress from her neckline down. It covered her slippers and as the glass went clinking to the floor, she almost wished it had shattered so that she could pick up a shard of glass and stab him in the eye with it. She supposed bludgeoning him with the thick glass was an equally as good alternative.

She remained silent for a moment as she composed herself, holding her dripping hands out in front of her and allowing him to steady himself on her shoulder. She was sure that if she were to get any angrier than she were now, the beer would immediately evaporate from her skin from the sheer fire of her rage. Then his hand went to the top of her head, and she sat there seething, choosing to close her eyes in fear they might explode with the rest of her head.

Before she knew what she was doing, Parthenia turned in his direction and punched him as hard as she could right in the nose. She let her hand fall back to her side, adrenaline racing through her body as she glared down at him, her dress drenched and dripping beer. She wanted to swear at him, but figured the damage she had wanted was done anyway. She didn't even realize how much her hand would hurt, as well.