[wilted rose] we're always running from what we can't explain [melinda]

He needed a drink, and he needed one now. Even if he knew it was poison running through his veins, at this point he needed a little pinch. Those imbeciles working at the Ministry of Magic needed a massacre to happen to get anything done and he swore on his wand that he was going to create some sort of massacre that would nip them in the face so hard they'd be bleeding for days. He was beyond irritated that a skilled wizard like him was stuck in an office all day. Didn't these people get sick of it? He thought he'd be beheading people by now. What gave?

Entering a pub in this state was probably not a good thing, especially because he hadn't told Mallory where he was. However, he tended to be doing that a lot lately and he was beginning to worry about the state of their relationship. He was starting to feel like he was a bad boyfriend; that she deserved better and that was something he had been lying to himself about for years. He would always try to convince himself she was his equal but that wasn't true. She was far more superior than him.

Perhaps they had moved in together too quickly or maybe he was just overreacting. Either way, he made his way up to the bar and ordered himself a strong drink and began to sip on it. As he did this, he watched as a familiar face graced the seat next to him. Melinda Burke, a fellow student at Hogwarts but in Ravenclaw house. The two had gotten on at school but hadn't spoken since they had graduated. However, it was quite suspicious to him that she would be in a place such as this. Perhaps she too was having troubles..

"Haven't seen you in a while, my friend. Have you been well?" Chael said to her, hoping sincerely she was well.

She was going insane, she was absolutely sure of it. Though she was only two or so months into her schooling, there was no way she could handle the rigor it required. Hogwarts was absolutely a breeze in comparison to all the methods and maladies she was somehow expected to keep track of week after week. It was a daunting task trying to keep up, and though she was faring pretty well so far, she was terrified of what was to come. The only appropriate thing to do after such a realization was drink - heavily, if possible. With no class tomorrow, she had effectively given herself the go-ahead to get as inebriated as possible.

The Wilted Rose would not normally have been her first choice, but it was within close proximity to her flat so she wouldn't have to apparate and she was far too exhausted to scour out any more "upscale" places. She had, at the very least, attempt to dress herself after classes ceased that afternoon and managed what she thought to be appropriate November attire. The chill winds of London got the better of her and she found herself flushed and frozen by the time she arrived inside. Situating herself at a barstool toward the corner of the room, she ordered the strongest thing she could stomach and inhaled sharply. She should've at least invited someone from her classes along with her… now she looked like a simpleton drinking at a bar alone on what was about to be a weekend.

Her eyes widen as a familiar voice acknowledged her. Slowly turning her head to the left, Melinda took a glance at her former classmate. How long had it been? It felt like ages though it couldn't have possibly been. How she had longed for a familiar face to approach… "Chael." She spoke softly, clearly excited to see that there was someone else here tonight to drink with. She paused momentarily to consider that if he was also here alone after the workday he was perhaps not in the best mood, but she shrugged it off quickly. Maybe he had just wanted a quick drink. She had never been one for school gossip, but she vaguely recalled him being deeply involved with a Hufflepuff girl. Was that still going on? It would be far too rude to ask.

"I've been. And yourself?" She left her response vague so as to not insult him with a lie. She was not well, but she would not burden him with that knowledge. She raised her eyebrow and two fingers as the bartender approached once more. Perhaps she would order another round for the two of them. Misery always did love company.