This night is on fire. [Quin]

One of the joys of working in a wizarding pub is the amount of gossip that gets passed around among the patrons. Crina is like a sponge in the way that she soaks everything in, enjoying hearing everyone's take on the same bit of news. Most recently, the news broke that the dome had completely fallen around Hogwarts in the United Kingdom, and the students of the school were sent back home for a month while the Ministry of Magic moved in to restore the castle. She had heard many versions of the same story, and apparently there were also a number of deaths within the castle while the dome was intact. Crina couldn't imagine having to deal with something like that when she was attending Durmstrang, thankfully she never had to.

She glanced up at the clock on the wall that showed half past eleven. It was Friday night, meaning she would be there for another five hours as she was working the closing shift tonight. Crina rapped lightly on the wooden bar in front of an old witch that had seemingly fallen asleep sitting up. "Another cider?" the brunette asked, smiling as the woman came to and drained the last of her mug in one swig. Crina busied herself for a moment refilling the patrons glass, and set it down atop the bar in front of her, the cold liquid frosting over the mug immediately.

It had been a slow evening, especially for a Friday. Crina hadn't made plans after work that night, which was a rarity for the Lupesco. The witch didn't have very many friends, but that didn't stop her from going out on the town alone. She prided herself in being able to do everything by herself, completely independent of other people. Growing up in Scoarţă she was coddled by her parents constantly, and she found herself still rebelling from that lifestyle even at the age of 27. She started absentmindedly twiddling her hair between her fingers, her eyes darting along the bar to make sure all of the customers had enough to drink. Efficiency is Crina's strong point, and she always makes sure her job is done to a tee.

@Quin Pendragon

The night was young, but Ladon Quin Pendragon was exhausted. He was tired. Being a dragonologist, he was constantly busy, constantly running around and trying to get ahold of himself. He didn’t realize that when the day was done, he was done. He was thankful that the day ended and he was allowed to wander free. He had ended up back at home, with Charlie, and they had conversed for a while, but Quin was ever the adventurer. He wanted to go out and explore, or, well, drink. It was a Friday, after all, and he was allowed to get drunk and sleep around and enjoy his afternoon. Or, well, mostly his evening. He was able to do anything and everything he wanted to do.

His boots were heavy as he stepped into the little pub. It was always a cute pub to be in, even if it was dangerous to transverse the town at the mid of the night. Still, Quin worked with dragons all day – while it wasn’t the same to compare dragons and the dangers of the small little Romanian town he lived in, there was still plenty to be weary about. He hadn’t been outside for long, and he didn’t bother to dare be outside longer than he need to. He made sure, quite frankly, the door was firmly shut behind him.

He peered around. It wasn’t entirely packed, but it was filled enough that the dragonolist had to wiggle through throngs of people to get to the bar. He settled himself on the stool. He let his boots settle on the footrest underneath, and crossed one over the other, so that only his weight would be supported on one foot. He tapped his fingers as he waved over the pretty barmaid, although he kept his mind to a minimum, “Evening,” he lulled. His Romanian was pretty good, but it was still not the greatest. Even his English accent was obvious through his Romanian, “Firewhiskey, please.” He wanted to order some British beer, because it was on the tip of his tongue to drink, but he knew they probably wouldn’t have it. It was best left unsaid.