Rob tapped the side of his glass a few times, glancing up at the bartender. This hole in the wall pub was one of his favorite haunts, but it wasn’t necessarily known for great service. The floor was covered with dirt tracked in from the customer’s boots, the patrons themselves hardly cleaner than the floor. However, it served a good harsh brew, and that was what Rob came for.
Dressed in his usual shirt and pants, the man exuded confidence and an air of impatience. The bartender, a shifty eyed sort of fellow, finally caught on that Rob wanted more to drink, and slammed a new glass on the bar with a scowl. Smirking faintly, Rob took a few gulps and glanced at his watch, wondering what was keeping Harlan, as the man said he’d be here over half an hour ago.
It was tradition that the two men went out for a night of debauchery after winning a match. In the past, Rob and Harlan had gotten into quite a few scrapes this way, but nearly always managed to have each other’s’ backs and weasel their way out of them. Rob sighed and stretched his arms behind his back, slightly sore after blocking quaffles all afternoon. Pushing his shirtsleeves up past his elbows, he contemplated making Harlan pay for all these drinks he was going through while waiting for him. He caught a stranger looking him over out of the corner of his eye, and stiffened minutely. Slowly allowing a smile to spread across his face, he turned to face the curious man.
“See anything you like?” Rob’s smile was now more a grimace than anything, and definitely not pleasant to look at. He assessed the skinny, filthy man quickly, coming up with five different ways he could feasibly take him out without drawing attention from the other people in the room. Strangers made him suspicious, he knew he had earned enemies earlier in his life and didn’t intend on letting any of them come close to catching him. Admittedly, drinking alone in a pub wasn’t the most ideal place to start trying to not attract attention-despite his best intentions.
“A little…feminine, isn’t it, eh?” The man wheezed, chuckling now, pointing at Rob’s arm. Rob didn’t need to glance down to know the man was referring to the mint sprig he had tattooed there. What he didn’t like was someone poking fun at it; it was in remembrance of the only parent he ended up caring for, in the end. Caomihe had died with too many years left to go. He could feel his temper rising, but attempted to control it and not slam his glass into the side of the man’s head.
“Well, sunshine, you seem to be the expert on looking feminine. Why don’t you tell me?” Rob had stopped smiling, now. If the man knew anything of him, he now knew he was treading on dangerous ground. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case, as the guy spluttered in outrage and launched himself off his stool towards Rob. Rob was deeply amused and kicked the other man’s feet out from under him, sending him sprawling towards the floor. Chuckling at the look on the other man’s face, he turned back to his drink and was met with a fist to his left cheekbone. Apparently, scrawny had friends.
Launching himself to his feet, he turned and blocked another blow. He backed up into the middle of the room, ignoring the bartender’s pleas to take the fight outside. He counted the men advancing on him… three. It would be close, but he should be able to handle them without using magic and attracting the Ministry for using magic in front of Muggles. A slight distraction came in the form of the door swinging open, and the smile that now grew on Rob’s face was genuine. He might not end up with anymore injuries tonight if the man heading in was who he suspected it be.
