The Torch Light On [Sarah]

Nikolai Volkov already had a long day. One of the dragons almost escaped Gringotts. This was the first almost escape. It made him fear for when he lost his leg. He knew how to handle it though, even though fear settled in quickly. He bit his lip and pushed on. He managed to wrangle the beast back into its spot and calmed it down. They fear easily, just like him, and that was the issue. Someone did a loud sound as they were visiting their vault and terrified the dragon. Now Nik would have to work harder in putting the dragon back in its comfortable spot.

After his long day he just needed to go and get a drink. He was already exhausted. He knew drinking would make him even more relaxed but that is what he needed. Losing a dragon outside Gringotts would've made him lose his job. He loved protecting those animals there. As he made his way to the local pub that was close to Gringotts he looked around. If a dragon got lose it would be so hard to find it here and so many people would be in danger. That was his job though. Keeping people safe from these animals and taking care of them, protecting them from the people.

Stepping into the pub he found a spot at the bar. He pushed himself up on the stool and adjusted his metal leg. A couple of women gave him a weird look as he took off his leg and just a stub was there. It moved in his hand as he adjusted himself to be a little more comfortable. As doing this the bartender stepped up, Nikolai ordering a whiskey on the rocks. He shoved his leg back on the nub and locked it in place and pulled his black pants back up. The women already changed his seats away from them. He rolled down his eyes. This was why he really never settled down. People fear his disability, rather than supporting it. Hunching forward he grabbed the whiskey forcing it down quickly and continuing onto the next whiskey that was being placed in front of him.

  Last night had been a bloody nightmare. Sare didn't really mind working behind a bar all that much most of the time, but last night had just been a joke. A fight had broken out between three punters - initially physical. It was bad enough when three boozed up lads full of false confidence and swagger decided to try it on with each other physically, but when wands had been drawn the game got a whole lot more serious. Before they'd been subdued by the bouncers the wizards had managed to smash up a great deal of the bar, ruining a good chunk of stock and scaring off custom. Sare had been lumped with staying an additional two hours after the end of her shift cleaning up the mess and repairing what she could. Honestly, people that couldn't handle their drink needed to be hexed to oblivion. The witch had found herself thinking of the most creative combination of hexes possible for the messy buggers after the third time pulling a glass splinter out of her hand. After that she'd crashed at home, curtains drawn to block out the daylight and little mind paid to how her job was reversing her sleeping pattern to an increasingly annoying extent.

  Once she'd been up and about for a bit, the witch decided that she needed to loosen up just a tad. And despite all of the hours spent working behind a bar, she wasn't put off from frequenting them in her free time. Just not the ones she worked at, obviously. Sauntering into her typical haunt, she'd ordered a firewhiskey and knocked it back with practiced ease, a slow smile spreading across her face as the liquid burned in it's familiar but oddly comforting way. Alcohol without a kick was just sugary crap in her opinion, and nobody that looked at the hardened exterior of Sarah Hirst would peg her for a cocktail drinker.

  As she ordered another, her attention was drawn to the man sat several seats down. The woman next to him appeared to leave when she caught sight of him, and with some interest Sare took a peek to see what had bothered her. Huh. So he'd taken his leg off. Casual. Bit of a bitch move to leave like that though. After a thankful nod to the bartender than replenished her drink Sare sauntered over to the now vacated seat. He looked like he was in a bit of a crap mood, honestly, and he probably wouldn't want some complete stranger talking to him. But tough shit, because she was going to anyway.

  "Sick tats." She noted aloud, nodding towards the ink on the man's neck, and then towards his drink. "Rough day?"

Nik heard a voice next to him, someone commenting on his tattoos. He smiled. At least someone appreciated art. Then she mentioned rough day, he looked back at his drink and then her. "It shows that much?" His Russian accent was rough, but at least he knew English pretty well. He traveled for years and most of his travels were charted in his art, along with his dragons. He loved his tattoos and his dragons. Two things in his life that made it complete. He smiled at the girl, "What brings you in here?"

He looked at her drink, he would've ordered a new one for her but she just had to replenished. Nik was trying to think of something nice to do for the woman not being taken back from him. She seemed nice though. "I had an interesting day, want to keep me company and drink a few? I'll pay." He smiled at her. It would just be nice to have a drinking buddy at the time. He rather have some company then spend the night being alone. Maia would be nice company and someone he could stare at but she was busy at work probably or with one of those other men that think she is attractive. Who didn't think that woman was attractive though? Nik would just like to meet someone new and this girl at least caught his eye by being nice.

"Nikolai Volkov. Yourself?" He laid out a tattooed hand for her to shake. "How has your day been treating you?"

Obviously, she could tell his was bad- but he wanted to make it better. He loved talking to new people as long as they didn't get super connected. He still feared making super close friends or even more. He always avoided that type of relationship. He just didn't want to hurt anybody. He almost died once and he did not want anybody to fear losing him or him fear hurting them with having a bad day and dying from it. He worked a dangerous job and loved a dangerous animal, it was best to try to not get super close.

  He took the compliment well, and Sare smiled with satisfaction. Alright, so she was no fairy godmother granting crappy wishes to sick orphans or whatever, but it was nice to make someone's day just a little better by making the conscious choice to not be a dick to them. Sure she wasn't normally one for goodwill, but something in her had been stirred by seeing the annoying way that people responded to a guy for daring to have no leg. Jeez, it was just a leg! Unless someone sat down in a bar and casually revealed a dark mark Sare was a firm believer in keeping your opinions to your damn self - and that included visibly reacting to people for the way they looked. She got her fair share of side-eyes from people that clocked the jagged scar along her jaw herself, and she imagined it was crappy enough having to go through whatever caused someone to lose a damn leg without people being jerks about it afterwards.

  "Meh, not too bad. You just look like you really needed that drink." She said with a grin. His offer of company was sincere, and Sare was never going to turn down a free drink. Hey, working crappy hours behind a bar didn't pay all that much, ok? And the Order was a voluntary thing, as if people trying to save wizard-kind didn't need a damn wage. Sigh. Life was a damn graft. Anyway, she was happy to join him and settled into her seat with ease.

  "Sarah Hirst." She responded, noting his blatantly Russian accent. It was pleasingly rough on the ear - Sare couldn't bear accents like the simpery Beauxbatons types, so lilting and singsongy. Her own Mancunian accent was harsh to hear, and she liked to hear that back. "I'm drinking away a painfully lousy shift at work last night. You?" Sare hoped he wouldn't think she was prying. Sure, he looked like he had a lot of shit going on - but conversation was conversation, and they needed to talk about something over these drinks he was so willing to pay for.

"Yeah, I really did need it." The whiskey felt nice as it hit his throat. With her company he signaled the bartender to leave the whole bottle of fire whiskey. They both were drinking. Obviously, he would have to order ice later on for them but at least he had the whiskey available whenever he wished for it. As she spoke her name, he smiled. "Nice." It was a nice name. He was used to Russian names. He went to Durmstrang. He loved that school even though they were pretty rough. His family were very confusing with their blood even though magical blood can be traced all the way back. Yet, because his family were known blood traitors he was treated pretty bad in school. He loved it, none less.  As she said she was drinking away a lousy shift at work, he nodded. He knew how that felt.

"Drinking to escaping dragons." He chuckled gently at her. "Where do you work?" He was not trying to seem like a creepier just was trying to get to know her. He was so used to being around nobody due to being a dragon trainer. He was fine with that sometimes but it did make her rough around the edges. He spent a whole year by himself with just dragons. That always seemed weird to people, but he loved it.

"One of our Gringotts dragons got spooked today, I had to control her. She's fine now." The girl was probably wondering about the escaping dragons. It was best to explain himself. He did not want her scared that there was a dragon loose, or maybe she thought it was cool. He was not sure of what kind of girl she was like yet. Hopefully she was the fun one. It would be nice to have someone who would actually like to see a real dragon up close.

  Sare noticed his signal for the bartender to let them finish the bottle with appreciation. See, this was someone she could respect. Neat whiskey undiluted by the crap weaker people needed to put in to make it taste nicer. Sare swore a little bit of her heart died every time she had to mix some sugary piece of crap behind the bar at the request of some jerkass that couldn't handle their drinks like a damn adult. Honestly, whiskey had burned like a bitch when Sare first started drinking it. But did that mean she was going to spend the rest of her life avoiding ever drinking it neat again to the detriment of her reputation? Did it hell. She gritted her teeth and kept on drinking like a big girl until whiskey actually started tasting good. Sarah Hirst didn't give up, even when it required her to crack the art of downing burning liquid without so much as a fluttering eyelid.

  Her eyes shot up at the mention of dragons. She'd had a real fondness for Care of Magical Creatures at school; it was nothing compared to the subjects she'd heard Russians got to study, but it was all that she had been able to satisfy her interest for dragons with. Sare had seriously considered going into Dragonology at one point; they fascinated her and perhaps if the war hadn't turned out the way it had then she'd have pursued it as a career. As things were now Dragonology implied too much travel; she was grounded here in Britain for the most part, needed to be close to both Reagan and the Order to get things done. So she came to be working behind a bar, wishing she'd pursued something she was genuinely interested in and constantly feeling like she could be doing more.

  "Ah, I work at a bar. Pretty boring in comparison." She said with a rueful smile. "Dragons though," she let out a low whistle. "Now there's a career. What got you into that?"

He chuckled gently as she gritted her faced changed when she drank the whiskey. It was slightly funny, but he was good with his liquor thanks to being Russian. It was weird that people would say Russians were good at drinking. It was more they could handle it every well because when it was colder the liquor warmed you up more. Nik ended up just drank a whole lot when he first lost his leg so he would just drown his sorrows and now just built a resistance to it. He still could get drunk, but it just took longer now. He had to drink a whole bottle to get completely trashed now. At least he wasn't mixing his pain meds and drinking like he used to. He learned what to do and how to repair his life.

"Not really, bar has some interesting stories. How many drunks have you had to throw out? Probably get some interesting stories too." He smirked. Bartenders hear everything. They were like the psychologists for the world of people drowning their sorrows. Nik hit on a lot of the bartenders back in the day. Now he was more focus on keeping to himself. "Not boring at all."

As she asked about the dragons and what got him into that, he smiled at her. So, she was one of the good ones. There was some people who hate dragons. "I always liked them. When I was little my mom would try to give me quidditch brooms or some weird trinkets and I always wanted dragon figures. I collected them. When I went to school I got into them more. Actually how I lost my leg. Carelessness around a dragon when I was about your age." She looked about eighteen. "Dragon escaped. I attempted to chain it up. The chain got stuck on my leg and tore my leg off from the knee cap down." He pulled up her leg pants showing the enchanted metal leg. "They are beautiful, just got to be careful around them and treat them very carefully." He smirked. "If you ever want to see one I can bring you down to the ones in Gringotts. Many of their were horribly abused but I've been working it."

  "Oh, you're spot on there. Way too many stories and way too many people that I've had to throw out on their ear." Sare said ruefully. She was a sociable person at heart, so she couldn't deny that she enjoyed the chance to interact with other people at her job. Not everyone was a drink punter that was looking to take the piss and she made some genuine friends out of regulars. That said, sometimes the saddest thing was when someone became a regular. It was always an uncomfortable and unspoken thing, and Sare hated cutting off friends the most. She wondered sometimes what they were self-medicating. If they too had been scarred by the war like herself, or if their demons were entirely separate. She looked at the tattooed man before her, wondering what his demons were idly.

  His story struck a chord with her. How terrible to lose a leg doing something you loved. She had to admire his fortitude. Plenty of people would be justified in packing in their career of choice if it resulted in a pissed off dragon chowing down on their flesh. He seemed to have the same steel that Sare liked to think she had - and that she valued in others. Working with dragons had to be difficult with the reduced mobility, too - hard to run when a dragon's already taken one of your legs. Though she supposed that would probably give him the motivation to run all the more faster.

  "That's something else." She finally murmured, drinking from her glass. "Impressive that you've stuck with it after that." To still care so passionately - as he clearly did, when discussing the abuse of the Gringott's dragons - about an animal after having such a violent clash with it showed some real dedication. His offer made her light up, introspection into his injury forgotten. "That'd be amazing! I love dragons. Would have loved to work with them too, but life didn't really give me a chance. What does working with the abused dragons entail?" She wondered aloud. Traumatised dragons sounded like really rolling the dice when it came to chancing death.

"Yeah I would probably joke around with all those drunks all the time. I would definitely not be the best person to help them." He chuckled. He did love to joke around and tease people a times, he was a good light-hearted person. Not the smartest person in the world, but a kind heart one. He wouldn't be able to deal wit their problems but he would loved to just make fun of the drunks. You had to be careful and watch people and cut them off when they needed it. He wouldn't be able to be the person to do that. Nik would let them drink their cares away because that is what he would do himself. He would be a bad influence.

As she spoke about how impressive it was to stick with what he did. He shrugged. "I know the dragon was more scared of me than me of it. It didn't hurt me on purpose. The animals are very good nature. I watched them free in a reserve before and it was beautiful. They act so much differently than in the circus or even how Gringotts treat them. They are free and graceful." He really needed to back away from the love on the dragons before he scared this girl away.

As she said she was interested, he smirked. Then she asked about the abused dragons. "Well, they can't take loud sounds. Before I got there they would scare the dragons into remission to get into vaults with these weird bell things. I instantly removed most of them from being used due to how they were treating them. Some of the dragons were transferred to other locals due to them not getting sun and being sickly. It just takes a more care. Kind of like you watching the drunks. You gotta watch to see which ones need to be cut off and which ones need more care, just got to be patient with them and careful." He smirked. "Drunks are dragons."

  "They're a good laugh most of the time, I'll give them that - only a couple bad apples really, nothing we've not been able to handle before." Sare had to admit as well that she'd not exactly always been an angel herself. She thought back to the days immediately following the Battle of Hogwarts, when she'd been haunted by her sister's death and sought to drown her demons at the bottom of a bottle. Of course, that was never a solution - but at the time she'd not known how to cope, and had nowhere to channel her grief. She'd been the rowdy customer that needed to be taken care of on more than one occasion, and she supposed there was likely a number of bars back home from which she would still likely be rejected at the door based on her past antics alone.

  Sare had done a lot of growing up, since then. Sure, she was still feisty and liked her drink - but there was no more of this directionless, useless grief. Her final year at Hogwarts had stabilised her - and she was eternally grateful to Jane Lennon for recruiting Sare and Reagan into the Order. She'd needed that, more than she cared to admit - even if they weren't doing all that much now it still felt like a little more than the whole lot of nothing that she'd been able to do in preventing her little sister's death. She missed Kayla every day; missed what the loss of Kayla had represented too - a change in path, a permanent loss of innocence. Sure, the witch had never been all that innocent to begin with but the idea that people so good, so pure and untarnished by the ugliness of war could still be victims of it had been a turning point in her mentality. Honestly, she ought to be used to loss now - but Sare wasn't sure she could ever take one like that of her sister again. That was why she kept her best friend close, and that was why - deep down - she'd pushed Vin away. She realised that. Controlling the hurt that she encountered in her life was absolutely necessary.

  The man's analogy brought a smile to the blonde's face. Drunks were dragons indeed.

  "I reckon there's a bit more danger in your choice of profession, though!" She laughed. "What brought you to the UK, then? Aren't most of the good dragon reserves abroad?"

"Well you seem like you doing a good job. No deaths to any drunks yet? I betcha you can hold your own if they ever tried to mess with you." He nudged her slightly, hoping it wasn't to awkward for this young girl. She seemed very nice though. Nik started to sip his drink, rather than almost chugging it like before. Talking to her was helping her day out a lot. It was nice to meet someone who else has an interesting job. He would love to be a bartender, basically to drink, but still would be fun. "You should just become a psychologist, you seem to be doing a good job with it right now." He chuckled.

As she mentioned danger in his job, he nodded. "I would still be scared of a bar stool coming at my face in your job... or even those broken bottles- you know the ones people get into fights with." Nik had a few bar fights but none with a bottle. He watched movies with those events happening and was completely shocked about how those people even manage to start a fight use a bottle.

"I got a job here, plus my mom is from here. My mom is an ex-Huffleduff, that's a house right?" He was not even sure if he pronounced it correctly. "I was born in England. My mom wanted me to be closer to her home so I came here." He smiled at the girl. "Are you born and raised here?" He knew there was a lot of transfers from other countries here. Nik was so used to working with goblins that the people interaction was rare. He had a few people in his work area or in the runes department. Some of them were from France, some from the Americas, and a couple from Australia. There was so many people from all over the world.

  "You better believe it!" Sare joked. The witch was probably confident to the point of cockiness when it came to getting into physical altercations. She'd grown up on the roughest of estates, learning to take care of herself the muggle way before ever having to pick up a wand. The scar on her jaw was a reminder of just how important it was to be able to take care of herself when her trusty stick of wood was out of the equation - she'd been given that scar by muggles. Pissing off a local gang leader seemed like no big deal to her younger self, and she'd paid for that with blood. The knife itself had been nothing special - a standard muggle one. Originally the scar had only remained on her face thanks to the poor spellwork of her father in healing it. She supposed that now she could get rid of it at will, should she swing by St Mungo's and tell them it was a bother. It didn't seem right though, to rewrite her own history like that. Physical scars were reminders just as much as psychological ones.

  "Ah, the ones that reach for their bottles to finish their fights are always a pain. Normally hope that I don't have to resort to using magic on people but in those circumstances it's better to put 'em in a full body bind first and ask questions later." They were always pissed about that, too. She couldn't blame them - getting hit with a pissed off witch's petrificus totalus was a zinger any day of the week, and did nothing but enrage most people further. Still, nobody who had their limbs glued down to their sides was going to try anything with a bottle, and that was what the buggers deserved for trying to turn her workplace into a bloodbath.

  She grinned at his pronunciation. "Hufflepuff. P instead of a D. You speak English well though - I've always wished I had the patience to learn another language." Sare wasn't the academic type; she never sat still long enough to learn anything theoretical. She supposed the only way she was ever going to learn a language would be if she just dumped herself in the middle of a foreign country, being forced to get with the flow or else. Come to think of it, why had Hogwarts never offered any language classes? Bit annoying, considering how tiny Wizarding Britain was compared to the rest of the world.

  "Yeah, I grew up in Manchester. City in the North - that's where the accent comes from. Glad you can understand me alright, actually!" At that, she drained her glass for a second time, and set about refilling from the generously provided bottle. "Have you travelled much? I've never actually been out of Britain, yknow."

He chuckled the thought of someone coming at her with a bottle or another patron and the woman cursing them. That just meant she was good at magic. Nik was not super skilled at a wand. He was very good with animals and great with fighting or dueling. He was exceptional with weaponry. He used to collect items like swords or knives. Since he lost his leg he was not into that anymore. He stuck close to the dangers of dragons instead of a weapon. "So you are good at charms?" He raised an eyebrow. He seemed probably weird that he was asking all these questions but it was nice to get to know someone like this. Normally he did not have time to get to know people like this. He would get drunk, have one night stands and that was about it. For once he was talking to someone and not trying to get into their pants.

As she corrected his error with Hufflepuff, he chuckled. "Sorry some times I mix up letters. I know a few languages, just from my travels." He had to learn to be able socialize with people in that country. It was a need. If he did not know how to ask a certain question how would he be able to run a dragon reserve or even work on one. "If you ever want to try to learn some I can try to teach you Russian. Probably scare some of the boys away if they bother you with some cuss words." He chuckled gently at her.

Manchester. He knew where that was. "You're accent is not as bad as my mothers. She speaks English with me most of the time. She loves to cuss like a sailor." He smirked gently.

"I've been around, not in that way.... but you know." He chuckled gently at her. "I worked at a few reserves. One in China, another one in Bulgaria. I don't like staying in one place for very long."