It was damp.
Perdita was much more used to the warmer climates so she landed in Ireland with a bit of a bump. The sky overhead was overcast, the steely clouds tinged with blue which hinted at further snowfall. She'd been to the Emerald Isle a handful of times, dipping into Dublin for shopping and up north for some greenery but never before had she stepped foot in Cork.
Torrence Regan had not been that hard to track down. His reputation proceeded him, so it seemed. Perdita had absolutely no intention of catching him at home. She'd already built up an idea in her head about this taste; dark. Black walls, hard floors, worn leather sofas. It really was not her style. Her path with the Regans had never been intertwined and she was hoping to keep it that way but one area had stood out. Like her own family, the Irish clan had concentrated all in one spot and around a certain iron works.
From the moment she arrived, Perdita stuck out like a sore thumb. Her dark hair had been freshly cut back into her wavy bob, her recent Italian tan fading fast in the snow as her long bare legs strode through it, seemingly unaffected. It wasn't that she was desperate to see him (sort of), it was simply because they had a business deal that needed to be settled and soon.
Since their tryst in Hogwarts months ago, she'd been holding onto some ash winder eggs. Now, she had absolutely no use for them but the fact that Torrence seemed to want them so badly had made her think again. They'd come to an uneasy split of seventy-thirty but that split was now more like eighty-twenty because she'd bought some new
boots and she'd be damned if she was going to spend her own money on them. In her leather gloved hands was a plain white envelope that contained his cut and by dropping it off, she was hoping to sever ties. She was still mad at him for showing up to her villa and she was mad at herself for doing some rather questionable things with him in the walk in shower.
If he wasn't there, then she'd simply hand it to one of the people who was there. Perdy didn't think he was a blacksmith; he was far too smarmy and downright dickish to hold such an ancient and noble profession. To be honest, she didn't know what Torrence did in his spare time, other than pick up girls and take part in underground boxing matches. It was easier not to know. They weren't exactly a touchy-feely pair and she didn't care much for his feelings.
The heels of her boots crunched along the snow laden gravel path and it twisted along the drive and she found herself stopping suddenly. The place was huge. From outside, she could hear the rhythmic
clang-clang of the iron being worked and soldered as there was a faint whiff of coal and dust in the air. Her long fingers tilted the brim of her black hat back from her face as her big blue eyes took in the sprawling buildings. She was distracted, momentarily, by the huge and rather menacing looking dragon statue mounted on a plinth.
Arching an eyebrow, she moved to walk past it and she was convinced its head turned to watch her leave. The front of the shop seemed quaint as she pushed open the glass plated door and the rush of warm air greeted her. The low light of the shop made her sapphire earrings glisten as her eyes flicked over the rather gorgeous rings on offer and she made a mental note to try and buy one. Of course, she'd have it made to order, she never wore off the rack. The inside was hushed and no one came over and so, she picked up an order form and carefully folded it and slipped it into her purse.
Perdita wasn't in the mood to play hide and seek as she tilted her head back and looked up the winding iron staircase. She also had no intention of drawing any attention to herself so she didn't dawdle. She left through the sales room door and back out into the courtyard where she saw a forge with the door open.
The secretary trotted over and gently opened the door wider. Frustratingly, she'd know his silhouette anywhere. The forge was empty, except for them both and was high and airy and scattered with a few work stations. There were plenty of anvils and interesting utensils hanging up and she stopped to touch one, sliding her finger over the rough and dented corners before turning her attention elsewhere. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a number of potion bottles. Some vials were half full, other's completely empty and scattered with stoppers. Above the nearby noise of metalwork, she picked up on the gentle crackle of flames and the soothing bubble of a cauldron; ah, he was a potioneer and not what she expected. And she'd stumbled into his workshop.
Without announcing her arrival, she swung around and sat herself down on the other end of Torrence's work bench with a smile. "Hello lover," she joked before tossing the envelope of cash at him without any explanation. Perdita looked around as she delicately peeled off her gloves and placed them on the bench. This place would explain the odd leathery, sweet beeswax smell that often clung to Torrence's clothes. "Nice place," she said kindly. "Is there where you build yourself a personality?" Perdita asked sweetly.
@Torrence Regan 
