[ttd] a good place to hide in plain sight [liam]

May 2004

"Of course, you look good in it," Senna agreed with a laugh as she thanked the older man with a handlebar mustache behind the counter and took the bag from him that was filled with their thrift store finds. "But I'm serious. If you won't wear it, I will," she told Liam as she made her way towards the door, turning and walking backwards a few steps as she grinned. "Just think. They could do a whole 'who wore it better' column. Obviously we'd know who would win," she added, her brows wiggling, already guessing the vote on that would be tied 1:1 because they would each vote for themselves. It made her laugh a little more as she pushed open the door to the shop and the sounds of the busy London street greeted them.

It was a weekday afternoon and considering neither of them had real jobs with specific working hours (thank Merlin for that!), Sen had owled Liam yesterday when the idea struck her to do some thrifting. She was glad he had agreed and when she met up with him earlier, she realized she had almost forgotten how fun he could be. Not that she would ever say that since she suspected he might take that as a mortal offense. Still she had had fun discovering the weirdest items this slightly dingy thriftstore had for them and wow, did they succeed. From the inspirational pizza tee that struck a chord deep within her to the wide-legged, weird-length cut off shorts that someone had drawn a skeleton on, not to mention the spectacular pair of plaid bell bottoms that she and Liam had fought over (how had they looked better on him than her? she still wondered) or the trippy moose sweater that Senna couldn't stop laughing at, they had found and bought some truly weird/unique (depending on who you asked) things.

Besides the violently frilly velvet jacket that she knew they'd both look great in, she loved the denim patchwork jacket she had found and grabbed it out of the bag and pulled it on over her black velvet dress as they headed toward the Leaky Cauldron which was luckily a few doors down so they could floo to a little spot where she wanted to lunch. "But anyway, as I was saying, I think you'll like the cafe. Has good vibes even if it is just a little 'freaky goth' as you like to put it," she said with a playful roll of her eyes.

@Liam Thompson

( Did I spend way too much time looking for thrift store finds to link? Yes. Do I regret it? Maybe. )

"I'll send you the trousers back next week,” Liam said, draping them over one shoulder as they left the shop. “But I mean it, I’m not taking that jacket.” Without the lace he might have given in, but despite Senna’s encouragement he simply wasn’t ready for that. Shopping with hip girls had its struggles in that regard—but it beat shopping with the lads by a mile.

He was more selective with his clothing than Senna was, possibly because he was inherently less eclectic but possibly because he wasn’t a fit pretty girl who could wear any horrible thing and still be sexy. He’d have considered that she was in the fame honeymoon phase where you bought everything that struck your fancy with the sort of glee your former poor self could never have summoned…but even after a decade Liam had never grown out of that himself so it wouldn’t have made a difference.

In true fit pretty girl form, she cheerfully pulled on the world’s ugliest denim jacket over her perfectly acceptable dress. Liam fondly shook his head.

Lunch sounded excellent. Senna found his weirdness about the goth shite hilarious, so he’d stopped bothering to argue. “Long as there aren’t any tombstones on the walls,”  he said, holding open the door into the Leaky Cauldron. They trooped around the smoking old wizards over to the fireplace. “What’s it called?” he asked as he grabbed a fistful of Floo powder—and at the last moment swung the plaid trouser legs away from the still-orange fire.

"Fine, fine, your loss," Senna agreed easily, half hoping he might change his mind. He really did look nice in the jacket. It went well with his aura, the deepest maroon she'd ever seen with surprising pulses of silver, pretty and powerful. Oh well, she knew he was too stubborn to convince otherwise. She could rock the jacket just as well.

Long as there aren’t any tombstones on the walls. Senna's eyes lit up. "What a wicked idea, I hope there are," she said with a grin, already imagining it in her mind's eyes, wondering if ghosts and spirits were free to dine if their tombstones were there. If the whole being a famous musician thing didn't work out, maybe she could open a spooky restaurant. That or just invite some ghosts or ghouls to come be her roomie or something. That could be fun.

She slipped past him as he held open the door, squinting one eye closed as she tried to recall the name. "Ermm.. Poison Press, yeah, yeah, great name, I know," she said before she grabbed some powder and flooed away.

Senna blinked, waving a hand in front of her face as the smoke cleared and she halted in the half step she was about to take out of the fireplace. "I don't think this is right.." she said as a sardonic smile crept up on her face and she glanced about the vibrantly pink room, all pastels and pinched faces of elderly women looking at them with surprise over the rims of their teacups. She thought she even heard a "not again" whispered from a table nearby. With a glance up at Liam, she laughed quietly.

“Your gain,” he replied cheerfully. “It’s not often I’m generous, so I think you should enjoy it.” Of course, he was only generous when he didn’t want something—but it was true, that was rare. “It’s better than that jacket you’ve got on now, at least.” He’d had a grunge moment in his late teens and worn some pretty grimy denim jackets himself… But none of them had been patchwork. That was one facet of Americana he’d never been able to get behind.

Liam slung the trousers around his neck (why hadn’t he brought a bag?) and held each end secure as they stood in front of the fire. “Maybe the statue kind would be fine,” he said. There was something to be said for funereal elegance. Senna, as with secondhand clothes, took her fondness to a place Liam couldn’t. The thought of the actual dead involved didn’t do it for him. Maybe it was just that she hadn’t had the Bloody Baron floating through her dinner table every other day.

There was probably something more traumatic to it, knowing her age, but Liam had never asked. He hadn’t asked any of them, aside from Ollie. He just hadn’t been drunk enough with the band not to feel bad about bringing it up, he thought.

Senna tossed in the powder and he followed her into the fire, but they emerged in a room that reminded him strongly of one sixth year date when he’d been convinced to enter Madam Puddifoot’s. Unlikely to be their intended target. Liam looked to Senna, who confirmed his suspicions. “Fuck’s sake,” he mumbled before remembering to think of their present company. The lady nearest them tutted into her tea.

He flapped one end of his plaid pants at the flowered curtains. “This isn’t—Poison Press, I imagine?” he asked the room of old witches at large. And he gave them his most ingratiating smile. (He’d never had a great one, but it would do.) “We may need some help with directions.”

With a small chuckle, he leaned in to whisper in Senna’s ear. “Hey—if you want tombstones in here I think you can just wait an hour.”

"Yes, why thank you, how kind of you," Senna had said shortly before she turned to look over her shoulder and give him an affronted "Heyyy", her hands smoothing over her jacket. "This is a nice jacket, don't hurt his feelings." But she was gone in the fire before she could say more.

The pink on pink on pink decor made her press her lips together, trying to hold back the laugh that rose up as Liam muttered a curse beneath his breath. She pretended like she had to scratch her nose to cover her expression, but she almost lost it when he started flapping his pants around, and then really did lose it, snort laughing and all, as he whispered in her ear. "Liam!" she said on a gasp as she swatted his arm and glanced over her shoulder at the nearest table of ladies.

Had they heard? Two of the ladies were whispering (aka near-shouting) to each other about Liam and Senna as if they weren't there. She grinned, knowing they were safe.

"Actually, I think I see an open table," she said, eyeing an open spot right in the center of the table. With a glance up at Liam, she nodded toward it, the question clear in her eyes. She wasn't opposed to finding their way to Poison Press, of course, but this seemed like too good of an opportunity to pass up.