[Menton] Information is Key [Brooke]

Many people underestimated the wide variety of locations available to a traveling witch or wizard. Sure, the large cities were always popular but if you were a celebrity and wanted to have a nice, quiet conversation with someone at a cafe, you would do well to avoid London or Paris. So for her consultation with a magizoologist, Cloé Cardozo had settled on Menton, a small but popular commune on France's Mediterranean coast. She considered its nickname to be particularly accurate; the tiny magical community of Menton was a pearl in the region. Tiny cafes and shops, miles of gorgeous beaches, and Italy just next door. The Quidditch star was glad that Brooke Farrow was in the area and had agreed to meet her here. The weather was too nice to spend time indoors, but meeting in London would mean trying to dodge the press and Cloé just wasn't up for that right now. It was her weekend off, after all. She was perfectly relaxed a she sat at a small table outside her favorite cafe and gelato house, dressed for the summer weather in a short, cotton dress which covered her black string bikini and complimented her rich tanned skin. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, the end draped over her shoulder. The cafe itself was a typical affair of whitewashed terra cotta with bright orange shutters and a white and orange striped awning. A few tables sat outside the establishment, while the interior was lined with display shelves and a single large counter behind which a tiny old couple kept order and bossed the wait staff around in a combination of boisterous French and Italian.

Cloé people watched as sipped her citron pressé, waiting for Brooke to arrive. Having finally settled down, or at least as settled as Cloé ever really planned on being, she had noticed that coming home to an empty flat was a bit depressing. Sure, she could always go and annoy her older brother César who lived in the unit across the hall from her but he wasn't always around. The Chaser decided that she wanted to look into having a pet. While reckless on the pitch, the Italian-born athlete was much more cautious in making life decisions. Bringing an animal into her life would mean caring for it and seeing to its happiness as well as her own. Frankly, she found the idea a little daunting.

She had recognized immediately that she would need help in deciding what kind of pet would suit her lifestyle and which reputable businesses sold healthy and happy animals. She had made a request to the people who handled personal requests from Gravesend Griffin players and had been given the name of Brooke Farrow as a consultant. Having spoken with her briefly on the phone, Cloé had been impressed with the other woman and had asked if she might be interested in meeting in person to discuss Cloé concerns in greater detail. As luck would have it, Ms. Farrow was going to be in France and had agreed to meet with her.

Scanning the approaching crowd, Cloé spotted curly brown hair, rust-red in the bright Mediterranean sunlight. She waved, getting the other woman's attention before settling back into her seat and waving over a waiter who refilled the pitcher of chilled water on the table. As Brooke approached the table, Cloé stood, extending her hand towards the approaching magizoologist for a handshake. "Hello," she said with a bright and friendly smile. "I am Cloé Cardozo and it is nice to finally meet you in person. Please, sit down. I hope you were successful in whatever other business you had in France." Cloé resumed her seat, taking a sip of her sweet lemon drink. "Feel free to order whatever you like; it's on me as a thank you for agreeing to take time while you were here to see me."

@Brooke Farrow 

Brooke wasn't unused to strangers calling with requests for advice on which pet they should own, or how they should handle their current pet or pets. Her name was beginning to flow well within the wizarding community albeit mostly in England and Scotland where she frequented. However, she was a tad surprised when she received a phone call from none other than a professional quidditch player. Cloé Cardozo, a Gravesend Griffin chaser, was entertaining the idea of purchasing a pet. After a few questions and pieces of advice, the woman had wanted to meet with her face to face. She wholly agreed to it. It was very difficult to judge an individual without interacting with them, therefore making it near impossible to pair them with an appropriate pet. As fortune would have it, Brooke was going to be in Paris on call.

Unluckily, Brooke was being called over to study a small colony of Doxys, also known as biting fairies. They weren't at all pretty like muggles imagined fairies to be, but nasty little buggers covered in coarse black hair and sporting an additional set of arms and legs. The call hadn't taken nearly as long she'd thought. The ministry had a few questions regarding their colonial behavior. She had spent a few weeks studying the behaviors of a colony in Ireland, but one could never be sure if all colonies behaved the same. Avoiding being bitten by the mean beasties, and after only a few hours she had answered the local ministry's questions. They were fairly basic, they were. Do the Queens contribute to the colony? If so, how? How do Doxys interact with their Queen? -- So on, and so forth. All observations were jotted down promptly, or rather her self-writing quill jotted away. Brooke was in the habit of continuing on with other tasks while jabbering on her observations aloud. It was most efficient, she thought.

Menton was lovely, bright, and warm. Brooke was glad she opted for her <a href="http://www.wholesalermart.com/images/tops/0305/1474-light-blue-v-neck-women-s-tee-3034.jpg">pale blue top[/url] though she often thought it fit her a tad too snugly. It fit her perfectly according to the shop keeper that sold it to her. She simply wanted it a pinch loser. Her bottoms were a pair of dark jeans, and she'd worn ankle boots since she'd been mucking about a damp forest. Said dampness had ruined what good hair day she had been having. Frizziness was her nemesis, it seemed, and so she'd tied her hair off to one side so it fell in front of her shoulder.

A waving hand was spotted as she approached the cafe Cloé had decided on. Smiling, she weaved through the people and headed for Cloé's table. As she drew nearer, Brooke's eyebrows rose a pinch. This woman was stunning! And Brooke? Well, she'd be lucky if her hair didn't stick out in places it shouldn't and mud hadn't been smeared on her outfit. "Hello," She replied, returning her handshake in earnest. Her previous thought made her do a quick once over of herself to make sure there was no mud. "Ah, yes. Thank ye'," She said as she took the seat across from her. Weren't quidditch players supposed to be gruff? To the waiter, "I'll just take a lemon and a glass fer water, thank ye'." Smoothing the front of her shirt down, she turned her attention back to the chaser.

"So, Ms. Cardozo, I'd like ta' start from the beginnin' if that's alright," Brooke started to say and paused for Cloé's response. If she got the go ahead, she'd continue. "Ye' said ye' were interested in getting a pet? And ye' live in a flat?" The redhead bobbed her head as if not actually requiring answers. Her mind's wheels were turning. "And yer a chaser. How does that affect the time ye' spend at home?"

Cloé felt a little flush of pleasure as she saw Brooke's eyebrows raise at her appearance. It was a reaction she was quite used to, and she always enjoyed it. Her eye flicked up and down, taking in the magizoologist. She looked like she had just come from some kind of fieldwork, but Cloé wasn't one to mind a little mud mess. It was surprising how dirty you could get flying on a broom during a match. Besides, the other woman's work cloths gave Cloé confidence. She might have been a little more wary of someone who worked with animals, both wild and domesticated, that was too clean.

"Call me Cloé, please," she said with another smile as they began. Using her first name when she was out in public was both friendly and practical. She liked making people comfortable around her so formalities were usually dropped quickly, but it also gave her a little more privacy. Cloé was not an uncommon name, but the name Cardozo was sure to draw looks from passing wizards and witches. "Go ahead, I'm ready," she replied to Brooke's request to start at the beginning. She nodded along with the first few questions as it seemed Brooke was more stating facts than looking for a verbal confirmation.

"During the off season, I rarely leave England," she replied when it was clear Brooke would need more information. "I am out of the house by six in the morning for a warm-up run. Then I am either at practice or working out until dinner. I usually go out with friends at least twice a week." Cloé took a sip of her drink as she considered her schedule leading up to the Quidditch World Cup. "Once games begin," she shrugged, not really able to give definite numbers, "I will be everywhere. Sometimes we can come home between away games but if we are playing a number of games in different countries then the team will stay in a hotel together."

Cloé made a supplicating gesture with her hands. "You see my problem? For a good portion of the year, I do not spend much time at home. I travel frequently. I can't simply pick the first cute pet that I see. I need a pet that is either fairly independent and won't become despondent if I am away for long periods of time, or one which can travel with me." She shook her head, giving Brooke a rueful smile. "It's why I asked for your assistance. I simply could not bear to bring an animal into my life only to make it miserable or be unable to care for it properly."

"Call me Cloé, please."

Brooke smiled politely at that, and replied, "Cloé, then." She did somewhat recognize the Cardozo name, but she couldn't place it. When one deals with those who don't have last names and rather have wings or fur, one tends to forget who is who unless involved with them directly. As soon as Brooke began to mentally sort through lists of potential pets for Cloé, her thoughts about family names vanished. Her fidgeting ceased, and she barely noticed that the waiter had returned with her lemon and glass. She had a longer list than the average witch or wizard, but the vast majority of the magical pets were usually high maintenance in one fashion or another. Some were physically difficult to keep while others were just too intelligent to leave in a confined space for too long. She rolled over the ideas in her head as listened to the details of Cloé's lifestyle.

Brooke wanted to let Cloé finish entirely before she attempted to respond. At this point, she was really trying to gauge the woman's personality, and how she was handling this process so far. "You see my problem." -- To this, Brooke bobbed her head in acknowledgement. It was certainly a problem; a tall maze placed in their way, and she had to be the one to lead them in the right direction. It did, at least, appear that the chaser had put quite a lot of thought into what it meant to get a pet. She could definitely appreciate that in a person.

The redhead held her silence even as Cloé's worries came to an end. She leaned forward, and reached to pour herself a glass of water instead. As she picked up the lemon, she began to think out loud, "Yer lifestyle  does make things quite difficult. A lot of creatures, not just the magical sort, do require a good amount of time and care. It really creates a narrow path fer us." Brooke set the squeezed lemon down, leaned back into her chair, and took a sip of the iced water. She fixed those golden brown eyes of hers on Cloé.

"Honestly, I'm on the fence about recommending ye' a magical pet at all. They're notorious fer being intelligent, clever, and some cunning." Brooke set her glass down, and rubbed at an idle itch at the base of her neck. "Ye see, I was thinking perhaps a Kneazle. Their catlike natures mean ye' don't have ta' be around a lot. Independent, they are. The only issue is that it all relies on what sort of personality ye' get. Because of their intelligence, their personalities vary more than say the average house cat. If ye' get a mischievous one, ye' can count on yer belongings getting right trashed." She chuckled halfheartedly, remembering her first few days with her own kneazle. "Ye' can train them ta' behave, 'course, but ye'd need the time ta' do so."

Huffing a heavy sigh, Brooke shook her head as if to answer her own question. "I'd say yer best bet fer now is ta' keep simple, and go with a puffskein. Ye' really can't go wrong with them. They're loving, loyal, affectionate, and very low maintenance."  She offered the chaser a smile. "Ye' can even take the lil' beasty with ye' when ye' go traveling. Have ye' seen them before? -- I'm sure ye' have." There was a glint of excitement in the magizoologist's eyes now.

Cloé sipped her drink as she watched the wheels turning in Brooke's head. It wasn't an easy problem, and she hoped the expert would have a recommendation more helpful than her brother's which had been "Get a plant." As the other woman began speaking again, Cloé let herself appreciate her accent. The Italian found it absolutely adorable; she could happily listen to Brooke speak for hours. She brought her attention back to the matter at hand as Brooke spoke about the high variability of kneazel temperament. "I would rather keep my belongings in one piece," she commented dryly, thinking of the closet full of expensive clothes she had in her flat.

She nodded as Brooke mentioned puffskeins, smiling brightly. "I have seen them about and a few of our second-string players keep them as pets. Are there many different varieties? Are they social? I like having people over to visit and I would hate to stress the poor thing out." She cocked her head tot he side, thinking. "Should I get more than one so they can keep each other company when I am busy?"

Watching Brooke light up when talking about animals, Cloé was overcome with curiosity. "May I ask you a personal question? What made you decide to become a magizoologist?" The Chaser grinned as she continued, "Anyone can see how much you love your work, and I was wondering if you always knew what you wanted to do?"

Just then, the waiter returned, asking if they needed anything at all. Cloé gave the hansom man a flirtatious smile and said, "I'd like a small cup of the vanilla and lavender gelato." Turnign to Brooke, she told her candidly, "I would highly recommend trying the gelato. It's the best on the Mediterranean coast."

OOC: Sorry for the short reply! ><