[MP, Oktoberfest] I'm in your dream and you're in mine [Harlan]

Oktoberfest was great.  It was an endless party of drinking and dancing.  Just the sort of thing a young, adrenaline-seeking witch could enjoy.  Yet Trey was starting to feel a little bored.  That was the problem with the pursuit of constant excitement, it became harder and harder to find things to keep her entertained.  She was beginning to lose interest in German beer and German men.  She needed something more stimulating.  Tonight she craved a bolder, stronger taste.  Whiskey.  The 21-year-old was desperate for the bracing burn of hard liquor. 

Fortunately, her hotel had a bar which did (miraculously) supply drinks other than beer.  Unfortunately, it became clear upon her arrival that there would be a long wait for a beverage.  By some accident or very poor management, there was only one server on the bar during one of their busiest times of the year.  She shook her head in disgust at the crowd surrounding the poor German bloke that was trying to attend to all of their orders solo.  Bottles, glasses and cubes of ice flew over his head as he frantically tried to keep up with demand.  Despite his efforts, the mob of thirsty customers did not appear to be lessening.  Trey was not the most patient person at the best of times and presently didn’t feel very inclined to wait in line.  That’s when she noticed that it was a rather large bar and the far end was completely unoccupied, obviously since there was no bartender. 

With the confident air of someone who had every right to be there, Trey walked around the far side of the counter and into the area that would definitely be considered ‘staff only’.  Poking around in the shelves, she quickly located a bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey which she triumphantly grabbed.  It was a pretty well-organised bar so it wasn’t difficult to find everything she needed.  Then just as she was beginning to pour herself a glass, with the intention of making a quick escape thereafter, a customer approached the bar.  Drat.  She had been hoping to be in and out before anyone saw her.

“What can I get you, sir?”  Trey asked with her best customer-service smile, hoping that the fact that she was wearing a red party dress and speaking with an unmistakably British accent wasn’t a dead give-away that she was no Bavarian bar wench.  Running an appraising eye over the ruggedly handsome figure before her, Trey decided to run with the charade as long as possible.  She could probably fix up a cocktail if she had to (or at least look like she knew how to do it).  Plus it might actually be fun.  So far the other, real bartender was too stressed and busy to have noticed her presence. 

@Harlan Bellamy

Harlan Bellamy was by no means a 'go with the flow' type of person; in everyday life, even, he craved structure in the seemingly mundane. Each item in his home had its place; his clothing was organized by color, the cutlery drawers by function and size, and not one stray item was left out of place. As he got older, Harlan realized that was just how he preferred things. Black and white, with no room for grey.
 
When it came to vacations, this was no different. Even for Quidditch trips, Harlan required his itinerary to be clear and full, leaving no to idle or question what was happening next. Every outing had its expiration and rarely did he deviate from the plan. Oktoberfest, though, was the exception. Harlan made the last minute decision to join a few teammates at a Quidditch event that coincided with the holiday and at the last minute, the group decided to extend their stay. Two days simply just wasn't enough given the appeal.

The night was young all things considered and while the rest of his peers had gone off in search of the festivals best pretzel, Harlan used the time to himself to enjoy the quiet of the hotel. Or so he'd hoped. The place was nice, all things considered. It was traditional and quaint, more so than the places that he had grown accustomed to staying in. With that said, the group had been put up in one of their many suites at the highest level overlooking the sprawling scape that was Oktoberfest.

Harlan had learned early on in the trip that peace and quiet were two things that didn't particularly go along with the theme, but was surprised to find that the truth carried to the hotel bar. Didn't these people have anywhere better to be? Then again, didn't he? He had half a mind to escape to the suite to tap into one of the various full bars when his stubborn nature got the best of him. He was going to have a drink at the hotel bar, as planned, and no amount of annoying crowds were going to stop him.

Instinctively, the Quidditch Captain moved to the less inhabited area of the bar front. He was so used to drinks magically appearing in his hand that he hadn't calculated in the fact that there was one bartender, who most certainly was not paying any mind to his direction. Just as Harlan had resolved that he would be helping himself, another bartender had appeared. He studied the blonde woman with interest. It appeared she hadn't even noticed him, for one, and for two, it appeared the drink she was pouring wasn't for another patron at all. The way she held it implied that it belonged to her, and no one else.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his straight lined mouth, though Harlan's eyes maintained their questioning. "You've already got it," Harlan nodded to the drink in her hand. "Unless, of course, that belongs to someone else?" He teased, making a point to search in their vicinity for anyone else who may have ordered it. The drink could have just as easily belonged to someone at a table, but he felt like testing his luck.

Trey still largely operated under the impression that she was invisible to most people, so she was a little surprised that this man was looking at her so clearly and questioningly.  Under his scrutiny she tried her best not to look like she'd just been caught red-handed robbing the bar.  It seemed like it might take some effort to bluff her way out of this one.  "This?"  The young blonde feigned innocence as she raised the glass in her hand.  "This is just a routine quality check."  She tilted her head and used a professional tone of voice which suggested that it should have been obvious that what she was doing was perfectly normal.  "We've got to make sure to only serve the best to our customers. Sir."  Then with a smirk she brought the glass to her lips and tossed back the contents in one go.  The alcohol burned satisfyingly down her throat. 

"Ah yes, I’d say that is quite suitable.”  Trey made a show of pretending to write a note on an invisible checkboard.  Fetching another glass, she poured some more whiskey and handed it to him before refilling her own.  “There you go – a drink with my personal seal of approval.”  It was a struggle to keep a straight face when she just wanted to burst out laughing.  Somehow she doubted her act was altogether very convincing.  The man in front of her seemed to possess a greater intelligence and maturity than most of the people she ever socialised with.  However, he hadn’t snitched on her yet so that was encouraging.  Maybe he thought she was just really bad at her job.  “It’s on the house.”  She added with a wink and a tinkling laugh. 

“You’re from the UK?”  It was more of a statement than a question.  The fact that he wasn’t a local was very obvious from the way he spoke.  “What brings you to Germany?”  She asked conversationally, adopting the casual small talk she imagined people must expect from a bartender.  Obviously he must be here for the same reason as everyone else – Oktoberfest.  However, he didn’t look exactly like the usual type for the festival.  Trey felt like she should be wiping down the bar with a cloth or something to seal her disguise but wasn’t quite feeling committed enough to the role to start cleaning.  She had come down here to have a drink and find some entertainment.  Fortunately, it appeared she had now found both. 

As she waited for him to respond, her gaze flicked cautiously but playfully between the real server down the other side of the bar and the man in front of her.  Sipping from her own glass of whiskey, Trey lifted her chin in his direction, raised one eyebrow questioningly and gave him a challenging look which suggested – so are you going to tell on me?

Harlan's eyes narrowed as the woman made a case for her innocence. For a moment, he wondered if she really did work there and simply had a unique sense of humor. Being in the service industry for any amount of time would do that to you, he imagined. That, or drive you to drink on the job. "Great," Harlan confirmed as the woman turned to pour more, though his eyes gave away his skepticism.

"Not poisoned, then," He accepted the drink with a wary smile, holding up the glass to hers to cheers. He hoped that the standard was higher than that. Confusion aside, it certainly was a step up from waiting in the line at the other bar which appeared to have moved a total of three people since he last checked.

"I am," The Quidditch player nodded through a slow sip of his drink. She wasn't lying about one thing at least, it was quite suitable. Harlan didn't linger on the topic of where he was from, that usually led to the inevitable question of what he did for a living and he didn't want to open that can of worms just yet. The anonymity of the conversation thus far was just what he needed after the failure that was The World Cup.

"Oktoberfest," Harlan began with a loaded shrug of his shoulders indicating that it had never been his first choice for a vacation. Crowds had never really been his thing, particularly when the crowds were in costume and singing and dancing in the streets.  "A few mates convinced me," He explained matter-of-factly. "Lured by the promise of Bavarian beer and würstl," Harlan opted to not disclose that drindls were also on the list of things that had suckered him into joining the event.

"And you?" In a move most out of character, he kept the conversation going. Usually, by this point, Harlan would have politely excused himself and found an uninhabited corner of space where he could go unnoticed for the rest of the night, but there was something about this stranger that intrigued him. He needed to know more about her. It was clear that she too was not from Germany given her accent. "Relocated for work, I take it?" He challenged, awaiting a slip up that would prove his theory that she had no real affiliation with the place.

From the way he responded with a shrug and an excuse for his presence at Oktoberfest, it seemed clear that he was not particularly enthusiastic about the festival.  Evidently this man was not really the partying type.  However, she wouldn’t pass any judgement on that.  Not too long ago Trey hadn’t been much of a party-person either.  There was a time when she would've been pretty uninterested in drinking, dancing and socialising but now she found partying much preferable to more low-key activities that left her with too much time to think about her past or her future.

The young witch smirked as he turned her question back on her.  There was certainly no way she was going to respond honestly.  It was a lot more fun being a mystery and she had long since convinced herself that no one could be genuinely interested in who she was.  Plus getting to know someone was pointless when they would just forget all about her the second she left the room.  It was her strong (and unfounded) belief that she never made any lasting impression on anyone she met.  After momentarily considering making a falsely vehement protest that she had been born here, Trey settled on a slightly less dramatic reply.  "Ah yes, I'm one of those famous travelling bartenders you've probably heard of."  It was a rather absurd notion and surely did nothing to help her already shaky credibility. 

"So have you been having a good time so far?"  She asked casually while sipping at her glass of whiskey, both elbows leaning on the top of the bar.  Casting a glance around his shoulder, she couldn't immediately spot anyone who looked like they were waiting for him.  He also hadn’t asked for any more drinks.  Therefore, Trey thought it was pretty safe to assume that he was on his own.  It seemed doubtful that a man of his rugged good looks would have any reason to be alone on an evening like this, unless it was by choice.  "Or is drinking alone in the hotel bar the most fun you know how to have?"  Trey teased with a knowing smile. 

"Wer bist du?  Was machen Sie?", a voice called out challengingly.  Turning slowly, Trey spotted a man with a definite look of hotel staff approaching around the side of the bar.  Her grasp of the German language wasn’t great but she knew enough to get the gist of what he was asking – plus his expression of angry confusion really helped clear things up.  Pretending nonchalance she turned back to her erstwhile companion and calmly tipped back what remained of her drink before discarding the glass to one side.  "Well, looks like my shift just ended."  Placing both palms on the countertop, Trey vaulted up onto the bar.  Ironically it wasn’t her first time climbing on the furniture this Oktoberfest.  However, this time she was more sober – regrettably so (since she wouldn’t have minded falling into this Englishman’s lap). 

Ignoring the irate exclamations of the approaching staff member, the blonde witch swung her legs over the bar top so that she was sitting on the outer edge with her legs dangling just to the side of the charming stranger.  Inevitably the movement caused her red dress to ride up slightly, baring a little more skin and revealing where her wand was strapped to her thigh.  Trey made no move to draw her wand, having no intention of getting into a duel over her mischief, and instead leant quickly back over the bar to grab the bottle of whiskey.  Then with another graceful twist, she hopped off the bar and stood facing the Englishman.  “Do you wanna have some real fun?"  She asked rhetorically, not expecting a response. 

With a roguish grin, she pushed the bottle into his hands and leant in close enough that he would be able to smell the floral scent of her perfume.  "Run!" Trey whispered suddenly in his ear before spinning away laughing.  Without waiting to see whether he would follow, she made a dash for the exit, ignoring the calls to “Halt!” that rang out across the room.  Pausing only to kick off her high-heels in the hall and hide them in a pot plant, the young witch didn’t stop running until she reached the far opposite side of the hotel – and incidentally, the swimming pool.  Feeling breathless and exhilarated, she sat down by the pool and dipped her bare feet into the cool water. 

Harlan couldn't help but notice that the woman, despite her engagement in conversation, seemed otherwise occupied. His gaze followed Trey's own over his shoulder before turning his attention back to her. It was clear that she was looking for someone but he had yet to work out just who that was. A partner, perhaps? Friends come to swoop in and save her from the inevitable ban from the German hotel? Eyes narrowed, he held his questioning for the time being and instead addressed her prompts.

"I, have," Harlan finally answered, the solid tone of voice an indication of his honesty. The Quidditch player had no problem letting people know when he was not enjoying himself, though Oktoberfest had proved his initial instinct entirely wrong. He was certain that he was going to have a miserable time, and yet, here he was, on an extended trip, having a conversation with a stranger that lasted more than ten minutes, by choice.

"Ohh-" The quidditch player's otherwise straight lined mouth turned into a smirk upon hearing her quip. Just as he was about to come back with a retort of his own, the sound of German language behind him stopped him. Harlan turned to the hotel worker who, unlike Trey, was visibly on duty, before turning back to her. Apparently, his suspicion was founded after all. He couldn't help but grin through a few shakes of his head.

The next few moments moved in a blur, both in hyperspeed and in slow motion. One moment she was behind the bar grabbing a bottle, and the next she was gliding across the bar and practically taking him out in the process. Harlan was faced with a conflict; he could either drop the bottle there and simply explain what had happened, or he could take a chance.

Perhaps it was Oktoberfest, or maybe it was her, but Harlan decided on the latter. Swiftly, he ducked out of the way on the oncoming hotel staff and into the crowd. He kept a watchful eye on the red dress of the stranger that had landed him in this predicament, only escaping when the coast was decidedly clear and following the glimpse of her as she turned down another corridor.

The place was massive, more so than he could have imagined based on the quick trip he'd taken from the lobby to the suite upon arrival. Every so often, Harlan turned to make sure that they weren't still being followed, but it appeared they had escaped. They arrived at an outdoor pool, illuminated with fluorescent blue light that danced across the rough concrete. Breathlessly, Harlan popped open the bottle of whiskey and took a mouthful before extending it to her as she sat at the pool's edge.

"Travelling bartender?" He raised his eyebrows. Once the bottle was safely in her grasp, Harlan threw himself down on a nearby plastic armchair, crossing one leg over the other. He wasn't sure yet if an explanation was what he was after, but he waited nonetheless for her to speak up.

Trey accepted the bottle from him with a grin.  She had been pleasantly surprised that he had actually followed.  It wouldn't have left her too cut up if he hadn't but this was definitely the outcome she preferred.  Now she had whiskey and interesting company.  The witch had no idea where she wanted this chance encounter to end up but was just happy to see how things played out.  She enjoyed such unknown things.  It was exciting!

"Alright, you caught me."  The young blonde half turned so that her profile was facing the Englishman and she could look at him down the length of her shoulder.  Her posture was relaxed; she felt no shame or embarassment about the fib.  Besides, she'd assumed he was smart enough to have not really fallen for it anyway.  "I may have slightly exaggerated my authority to serve drinks..."   Pausing, she gave him a cheeky wink and a smile.  "Although technically, if I do have a bar that I tend, at home for instance, then I am a bartender...  It just so happens I wasn't actually a tender of that particular bar."  Laughing lightly, she took a swig of the stolen whiskey with satisfaction.  Trey thought it might even taste better now that it had been officially looted.

If this man was looking for more of an explanation, he was going to have to work a bit harder than that.  Even if she was inclined to share, the 'why' behind Trey was probably too complicated for casual conversation.  Besides she'd much rather deflect any questioning back on him.  "I think the more important issue here is, what on earth would possess you to follow me?"  Her tone was teasing but her eyes sparkled with real curiosity.  For all that she had encouraged him to follow, the young witch knew that most people wouldn't have done so.

"It was awfully gallant of you to return this to me."  Trey held up the bottle and batted her eyelashes with mock meekness.  However, if he was looking to be some kind of hero he was in the wrong place.  The blonde witch was definitely no damsel in distress.  "I hope you realise this now makes you my accomplice though."  Her lips pulled up into a wide smirk as she leant over to offer him the bottle.  It was only fair that they share the spoils.

Laying down on her side, Trey regarded him steadily with light green eyes.  She rolled, arching her back to look at him upside down - as though from that angle the Englishman might make more sense.  Her expression was momentarily pensive as she thought about what to do next.  "I think I mentioned something about fun?"  She finally commented with a mischievous smile.  Reaching a hand down she cupped some water with her fingers and flicked it playfully at him.  "What do you like to do when your not being swept up in the antics of a stranger?  Mr ...?"  She let her words trail off questioningly to indicate this would be a good time for him to provide his name.  It would be nice to have something to call him, other than 'The Englishman' in her head. 

It occurred to her that if he failed to be any fun, she could always push him in the pool...