[frida's] old roots, new trees | charlie

For someone that had sworn never to take on another field assignment again after she had received the promotion she so rightfully deserved, Piper had been particularly pleased to take on this very assignment. In a way, it felt as if she was going full circle, returning to the roots which had propelled forth her career and made her a valuable asset in the eyes of those she worked with. But more realistically, Piper had been pressed to know if the band, her first interview assignment at Label Magazine, had changed at all if their fame was a true reflection of talent or just the leader’s knack for making front-page news with one shenanigan after another. Over the years, the young woman had gained an appreciation for asking the questions she might not have dared to ask eight years ago and with that skill intended to get the answers she was certain many fans were eager to know. At least it was what she told herself, in reality, it had been sheer curiosity that had dictated her plan of action and the set of probably overly private questions she had set forth.

Taking a sip from her drink, probably her third or fourth margarita at this point, she took a look at her notes as they were scattered across the table, considering what approach she wanted to take this time. The article she had written eight years ago had not been particularly kind to Charlie though she had said many good things about the band as a whole. At that time, desperate to get recognition for her work and eager to choose her own assignments, Piper had taken some liberties with what had been said that night, though none of it had been done out of ill-will. The witch had mostly forgotten about it, at least until she was faced with the same faces, a little older than they had been several years prior. It was not really guilt, per se, but the more she had worked at Label Magazine, the more she realized that her company and her boss did not deserve the amount of time and work she put forth for them. 

Maybe an apology had been warranted, she decided, which was why she had gone out of her way to stop Charlie as she left to inform him that she would be at Frida’s in Covent Garden until late and if he was interested, she’d very much appreciate his company. I’ve something I need to speak to you about, she had added though her tone had not been ominous at all. Eight years had taught her that at times it was best to clear the air, especially after what felt like a particularly invasive set of questions. There were no hard feelings, it was what she hoped to convey. There was no such thing as privacy once one decided to become famous, after all.

“I should have asked more about this,” she muttered to herself as she reorganized her notes, glancing at the door from her seat as she wondered when and if Charlie might show up. If she could figure out an angle, by tomorrow she could start writing the article and then have it prepared to be published in the next issue. It would be a nice change from the usual supervision she did, fashion had always been her thing but it was starting to get a little repetitive.

Just as she was calling the waiter over for another refill, she spotted Charlie as he walked in, waved him over with a smile. “You’ve made it, I was starting to think you’d leave me here to drink by myself, which would be terribly rude even for you, Charlie,” she teased lightly, pushing the menu towards the opposite side of the table even before he took a seat. "I'm already five drinks in, you'll have to catch up."

@Charlie Baker

Charlie wasn’t sure what he’d ever done to Piper Morel other than help propel her career, but she was a ruthless bitch. Do you regret getting married? played on loop in his head, and he wasn’t sure what he was really expecting coming here -- I’ve something I need to speak to you about -- but curiosity had gotten the better of him. He’d already made a silent pact with himself that if she started asking more questions, he was going to leave.

Charlie had been nineteen the last time they’d crossed paths -- two years shy of a decade ago -- and foolish, full of the ego afforded him by their early success. He liked to think he was older and wiser now, but put on paper (as they had been) his recent escapades didn’t fully support that claim.

He entered the designated meeting place and tried to keep as low a profile as possible, not wanting to draw any attention to his presence. He spotted Piper and made his way over without returning the smile or the wave -- Lady Macbeth sprung to mind: look like th’ innocent flower, but be the serpent under ‘t. That was Piper. She looked good, better, possibly, than she had at twenty-one -- he had thought it during the interview, too -- but her line of questioning had turned as vicious as a viper. 

Charlie gripped the back of the chair opposite her, rolling his eyes. “If I recall, you prefer it when I’m rude.” He lingered for a moment before pulling the chair out and taking a seat. “Were the first four waters?” he asked sarcastically, shrugging out of his jacket. The waiter delivered another margarita for Piper as she polished off her fifth (supposedly) one and traded empty glass for full. Charlie eyed the drink with a degree of suspicion before shaking his head softly: no tequila tonight. “Beer, mate, please.”

The server left them and Charlie waited maybe twenty seconds before asking “What is it then?”

“A rude Charlie does make for a much more interesting interview,” Piper said, gathering her notes into a clean pile and setting them in the chair next to her, in case he became too curious and attempted to take a sneak peek at what she had written thus far. It was obvious that his mood was far from pleasant; probably (but possibly not exclusively) related to the series of questions she had asked earlier. But he had been a good sport and so had the rest of the band who had gone along with the interview just fine, even if a bit awkwardly. Wasn’t it a celebrity’s responsibility to be ready to face their demons if they chose to live their life in the spotlight?

She watched as he took a seat, pleased that at least he might have been curious enough to see what she had to say to join her, even if he wasn’t in a particularly good mood about it. But Piper was accustomed to dealing with unhappy customers; she had reached a point in her career where her likeability or lack thereof had little bearing on her personal feelings. Nothing was ever personal, it was simply another day on the job.

Thanking the waiter with a smile, she leaned forward to take a sip, deciding it was probably best to take this one slower than she had the previous ones, lest she became too giddy to have this conversation as seriously as she wanted to. She grinned at his question but did not feel the need to answer it, the margarita’s were not that strong here anyway. But compared to how often Piper experimented with her own concoctions of alcohol at home, that were truly mostly alcohol with just a splash of flavor, she figured it would take a few drinks to really do some damage. “Beer?” she asked, a little incredulously but not completely surprised, “You haven’t changed at all, have you,” she smiled to herself. Though Piper truly wouldn’t know how much he had or had not changed, the two of them had been the most familiar on the night of their last interview eight years ago.

She waited for a few moments to answer the question, setting her drink down before she looked up at him. “I might have gone a bit overboard with the questions if so, I apologize,” she said as professionally as she could. Piper had made her share of apologies before, saying the words were not as hard as believing anyone needed to hear them, “Fans are overwhelmingly curious about you and the band’s private life, surely that comes to no surprise to you,” she added in a matter of fact way. “If it makes it any better, I did not intend to spin a tale that makes you into the villain, not like the Prophet anyway,” she continued. “You’ll have to admit that apart from those questions the interview was quite fun, Sam and Liam ought to moonlight as a comedy duo.”

Charlie eyed the stack of paper as Piper moved it -- ignoring her comment -- wanting to know what she’d written, how much of it was accurate, then trying to remember what exactly he’d said in the interview. He had a bad habit of just talking and not thinking about how it might come across in print -- wasn’t that why he’d been not-so-politely told he wasn’t allowed to do solo interviews anymore? Good thing this wasn’t an interview.

“Beer,” he repeated, then shrugged. “Maybe not,” he admitted, thinking about how much he had thought he’d changed, before he’d reverted back to the man he’d always been underneath. Then again, he’d learnt at least one or two lessons since he’d met Piper last, he thought. “Tequila’s not good for me,” he told her, not that she really deserved to know. “At least with a beer I know where I stand,” he said, meeting her eye and not being shy about trying to make a point.

Charlie hadn’t expected an apology -- Piper had always seemed very unapologetic about everything she did. Admittedly, his opinion of her had the potential to be outdated -- it had been formed while they were still in school, encouraged when she’d fucked him after interviewing him, and solidified when she’d then gone on to paint an unflattering picture of him in her magazine. It had been some time since then, but judging by her interview etiquette earlier she hadn’t changed much either.

He stared at her, frowning as she continued. “Well, that’s a relief,” he said dryly. “Wouldn’t want to tarnish my reputation, would we?” His beer was delivered and he wasted no time bringing it to his lips. Setting it back on the table he kept his fingers wrapped around the bottle. “I’ll let them know,” he offered distractedly as a waitress passed.

He turned back to Piper. “Is that what you wanted to tell me?” he asked. “Clear your conscience before you throw me under the bus again?”

In all reality, tequila was no good for anyone but it’d be a waste not to indulge a little after a job well done. Maybe he was being precautious and with their limited history, had a good reason for feeling the way he did. Where did he stand, exactly? she wondered but figured it wouldn’t be polite to ask under the present circumstances. But she really had changed (sort of) and had genuinely wanted to apologize for her less than stellar behavior in the past. But in reality, she also knew that he had no reason to believe her.

And so when she did apologize, only a very minute part of her expected him to accept it with a smile and open arms so that they could proceed on with more pleasant conversation, not one that involved a degree of groveling for absolution. Piper had her limits, after all. “I think we are well beyond remedying that,” she quipped in return. It might not have been the nicest thing to say but the witch had always been honest in that regard. "But I can try."

“Don’t be so awful, Charlie,” she said a little playfully, “What exactly did you expect me to do? You’ve got it easy, you do whatever you want and get praised by your managers then get a big, fat paycheck for your effort. I have to go through hoops just to get a decent raise and possibly a promotion,” she explained as calmly as possible.

It wasn’t his fault that things were the way they were but Piper hadn’t said what she had said just because she had nothing better to do. “I had to make a choice about my career and in retrospect, there might have been many ways to go about it but things are different now. In my position, I can publish whatever I want and I don’t have anyone breathing down my neck for scandals,” she admitted. Things had changed at Label Magazine in the last eight years,
“But I still need to make my articles relevant to what is going on, the topic might not be the most appealing to you but it did happen,” she added in a matter-of-fact way. “And I have a much better perspective of things now, so how can I make you believe me?”

Charlie narrowed his eyes at Piper – he knew well enough that his reputation was beyond help, but he didn’t need anyone else telling him so. Still, at least she wasn’t pandering to him, so he’d give her that much. He sipped at his beer.

“Me?” he replied incredulously, his eyebrows shooting up as he leant forward a little in his seat. “I expected you not to use me as a stepping stone,” he answered her honestly. “Fucking me didn’t give you an excuse to shit all over me in your stupid bloody magazine,” he snapped in a harsh whisper. He had another sip from his bottle as he sat back up straight, then sighed, pushing his hair back from his forehead and running his fingers through it to the base of his neck.

He frowned, focusing on an indiscernible point in mid-air, off to the side of their table, rather than look at her. “I don’t have it easy.” Easier, maybe, but not easy. “I know it’s shit,” he added, a little softer – he didn’t know the ins and outs of the media shark tank but he knew, from having been lectured about it enough, how much more effort women had to put into anything to be taken seriously, to advance. He hadn’t believed it until it had been waved around in front of his face, and it was easy to forget from his position of privilege – didn’t excuse her tactics though. “But you couldn’t’ve warned me?” He met her eyes, holding her gaze – his expression hovering somewhere between disappointed and righteously angry.

She was trying to focus this – her apology, their conversation – on today’s interview, rather than her historic misdeeds, and it wasn’t exactly endearing her to him; she’d ruthlessly zeroed in on his recent divorce rather than stick to talking about the music, as he was sure their new manager had requested. Charlie had his beer to his lips when Piper posed her question and he rolled his eyes as he finished his swallow. “Sounds like your propositioning me again,” he told her flatly, though not without an edge of flirtation; if tonight was going to be a deja vu sort of scenario he figured she could hardly paint him any worse in her article than the Prophet had.

“Get me another beer and I’ll think about it.”

“You’re right,” she nodded in agreement, Piper had never truly enjoyed being at the giving end of an apology but was willing to make an exception for someone she hoped to eventually call a dear friend. And she did feel slightly riddled with guilty, after all he was right to believe that she had used him as a stepping stone, “But it was hardly intentional, and if anything at least we both did get something fun out of that night,” she added with a sly smile. Piper wouldn’t allow him to tell her otherwise, she knew a stellar performance when she gave one. But Piper needed him to see things from her perspective and though her way of approaching that promotion had spoken volumes about her willingness to get her hands dirty for the sake of career advancement, it was simply a matter of time and place. Had Sam or Liam been the lead singers of the band, she might have tried the same thing with them.

“If I were the lead singer of a band, I wouldn’t be able to get away with half the shit you’ve gotten away with,” she explained, taking another sip from her margarita as she attempted to explain her point. “And that’s fine, means the general public loves you and thrives off your personal life whether you like it or not,” she shrugged as she continued to speak. Charlie had star quality and no matter how much he might have longed to keep people out of his personal life and focused on his professional life, the spotlight followed him mercilessly. It was a blessing and a curse, Piper figured, but one of the many sacrifices those who made a living in the public eye had to deal with.

“If I would’ve warned you, I wouldn’t have gone through with it. You could say I did it in a moment of ethical weakness. I had written two articles, the other one, however, wasn’t nearly as scandalous and was promptly disposed of in the nearest bin,” she offered. It was true, the other article, though a little more boring, had been a much more accurate and safer portrayal of what had transpired between them. At least the redacted version.

“You can take it however you like, propositioning you sounds like bribery and I would never,” she said dramatically, bringing a hand to her chest as if taken aback what he was suggesting, “do such a thing. I’m a reformed woman, I do everything by the book, the imagine of utmost professionalism, I swear to it,” she continued with a titter, calling over the waiter as soon as he agreed, the serious expression on her face almost immediately fading into one of playfulness. “Could I get a beer for the gentleman here, if you don’t mind?” she asked with a smile to which the waiter agreed almost immediately.

Charlie stared at Piper, not sure he should believe what he was hearing. He could count on one hand the number of times a woman had told him was right about anything. “Oh, so you accidentally fucked me?” he asked with a sneer, "Just slipped and fell?" He was inching nearer to accepting her apology -- if that’s what this really was, but she was taking two steps forward and one step back with every extra word. He had another sip of beer and cast his mind back to that festival, to Sam and Liam conveniently leaving him alone with his schoolboy crush. He licked his lips and glanced to that point in mid-air again. “Wasn’t bad,” he conceded, grouchily -- as a twenty year old or however old he had been then, it had been more than ‘not bad’, but Piper hardly needed her ego inflating.

“Oh, fuck off.” He readjusted where he was leaning on his forearms, crossed on the table. “They don’t love me, I haven’t ‘gotten away’ with shit.” Couldn't get away with shit, ever. There was a reason he'd spent more time amongst muggles lately. It wasn’t like he didn't think he deserved the bad press, but lately it felt relentless. “I’ll be surprised if some knob from the Prophet doesn’t sell this tomorrow,” he said, gesturing between them, as though someone nearby might’ve been a clandestine reporter. “'Baker in bed with Label’s Editor-in-Chief'."

She gave him her excuse and he let out a mirthless little laugh. "Right, yeah." He ran his tongue over his teeth behind his lips, thinking. He knew it hadn't been personal, but it was hard not to feel taken advantage of. It had been a few years so he ought to be over it by now, but he had never claimed to be a forgiving man. "You know I would've told you what you wanted if you'd asked," he said, a little more calmly, disappointed almost. "I trusted you." Past tense.

Charlie inhaled deeply and rolled his eyes at her. A reformed woman, she said. He made the effort to lean sideways in his seat so he could give her a proper look over from toe-to-head without the visual obstruction of the table while she ordered him a beer. When they were alone again he asked: "So if this isn't bribery, what is it?"

Piper couldn’t help but to laugh a little at what he said, unsure of how he might have gotten the idea that anything about their time together had been accidental. “I meant the article,” she said after a moment, “I do have a boss to answer to, you know, a very unforgiving one that was just about ready to toss me out onto the street if I didn’t deliver anything scathing,” she clarified, though a part of her figured he was simply teasing her. Or at least hope he was. Considering all the talk that had been going on in the last year or two regarding Charlie, this article faux pas didn’t feel like the worst thing that had happened to him.

She smiled a little, assuming that wasn’t bad simply meant very good and that he was pretending otherwise for the sake of saving face. But Piper wasn’t the sort to need reassurance, especially not about something that happened so many years ago. She knew she had been good, and if it ever happened again, she knew she’d be even better. “Oh but they do love you,” she reiterated, finding this disenchantement with the public very artistic in a way, “but in the toxic sort of way that mistakens obsession for admiration and jealousy for intimacy,” she explained. He was even at the point where he was predicting his own headlines. “Now that’ll sell some papers,” she joked, taking a sip from her drink as she leaned forward a little to lower her voice, “I’ve been eyeing a new broom lately, you think I’d get some good sickles for an ol’ Charlie Baker story?” she added.

Piper had meant it when she had said she was a reformed woman, so even if the night ended with them proving such a headline true, she wasn’t about to do anything with the information. “You should never trust a journalist,” she said pointedly, her expression serious for only a moment, “but I’ve moved on to Editor, those sorts of rules don’t apply anymore, so feel free to tell me whatever’s been troubling you, my lips are sealed,” she added, making a point of bringing her fingers across her lips and locking it with an imaginary key.

“Apart from a heartfelt apology? A reunion between old friends,” she responded when the waiter disappeared, “Or are you not the sort to show a girl a good time anymore?”

He was definitely making a mountain out of a molehill, but he couldn’t help but wonder if his distrust in Piper and her ilk was well-founded -- had her article not come out, would he have avoided being put on this particular trajectory? At the time he’d been privately pissed off but publicly indifferent to the monikers he’d acquired -- embraced them, almost, as any narcissistic young man would. Had that backfired, now? Look where it had all gotten him.

He still had an ego though, and Piper was as good as any of them at stroking it. Charlie rolled his eyes, at least pretending to try and fend her off a little longer. "Toxic's one word for it," he agreed.

He watched her drink, then flicked his eyes up to meet hers. "Depends what details you can remember, I suppose," he replied, as if she wasn't offering (threatening?) to spill more intimate anecdotes about him. Them, technically. "Surprised you don't need refreshing, been a while." He paused, considering that. "Was I that memorable?" he asked, almost teasing -- not smirking but no longer uninterested in the possibility of a refresher.

She told him he shouldn't trust journalists and he let out a short sharp laugh. "I don't," he told her. Charlie’s eyebrows rose and fell as she explained she was an Editor now, his attention easily drawn to her lips as she 'locked' them. He wet his own, his mind wandering; they were both older now than they had been, but he didn’t think that would necessarily be a negative thing -- a positive, even; in his not-so-humble opinion he'd had plenty of time (and willing volunteers) to improve since the mid-nineties.

Charlie glanced at Piper's chest -- her heart was under there, somewhere, was his excuse. He looked back up at her next comment. He could fuck her without telling her anything, he reasoned. "Is that what you want?" he asked, holding her gaze. In the corner of his vision he could see the waiter returning with his beer. Charlie nodded at Piper's margarita; "Get me one of them then."

“You think they’d double the price if I get into details?” she wondered out loud, a mischievous smirk pulling at the corner of her lips, wondering just how much detail she’d be able to remember from eight years ago. “My memory’s pretty damn good, you know, I’m pretty sure I can remember what you were wearing under those tight pants of yours if I really put my mind to it,” she joked. Well only half-joked. If in the right mindset, Piper had the ability to remember important details no matter how insignificant they seemed. Unfortunately, this meant that she was susceptible to holding on to grudges, anything that displeased her, no matter how trivial, suddenly becoming a point of concern.

“But we wouldn’t want to upset your adoring fans, I got a few threats last time ‘round, so it wasn’t as if I weren’t affected as well,” she continued pointedly, though her tone remained lighter than usual. It had not bothered her; Piper was hardly afraid of some fangirl owling the magazine about how upset she was that her future husband had been libeled in an article. In fact, it had made the witch proud to know that her first piece had gotten her noticed. As they all said, all publicity was good publicity where both of their careers were concerned.

Although she had not expected much to happen apart from an apology, Piper was not opposed to his advances even if they, too, would amount to just words. He would not give up such an easy opportunity, or would he? If the papers were anything to go by, he was hardly the reformed man and well there needn’t be talk about Piper, she was always interested in a good time. And this time she was interested in him too, not just for business purposes. “But you trusted me,” she noted, somehow very pleased with herself that their time together might have left an impression on him. Though it was obvious that it wasn’t a good one.

“Do I want what? Your friendship or a good time?” she continued, willing to play this game a little bit longer. The alcohol was keeping her mind off of work which in turn only meant that she was glad to indulge him with her time and maybe more. “Well, I suppose that’s entirely up to you,” she added, “Very well, finally someone’s ready to have fun,” she said with much excitement, before turning to the waiter and order two margaritas. “So what’s your next move then?”

“Double?” Charlie let out a breathy laugh. “Think you’re overestimating my worth,” he said, and not in a self-deprecating manner, either. There were enough stories about him out there that he was surprised interest hadn’t waned, making him less profitable or something. Not that he was complaining about the interest--it came with it’s pros and cons--but he wouldn’t be opposed to having a positive article written about him sometime— No, that was a lie -- the ‘bad boy’ image did him more of a service than a disservice and he damn well knew it.

He smirked at Piper. “You like the tight jeans, do you? Thought I saw you looking when I walked in,” he teased.

The Yorkshireman rolled his eyes--adoring fans--and grinned lopsidedly. “A few?” He laughed derisively. “Let me know when you’re in the hundreds,” he said, only exaggerating a little. In all honesty he rarely received threats directly anymore--he assumed the label filtered them out of the fanmail for his convenience--they were usually plastered all over the likes of the Prophet or Witch Weekly. He wondered if Label would bother to publish any they received following the interview.

Charlie’s dark eyes met Pipers and he held her gaze for a moment too long. “My mistake,” he admitted, finally glancing away. In one sense, he owed her for what she’d done. She had taught him that even a familiar face wasn’t to be trusted if they came with a press badge hanging around their neck. “Won’t be making it again,” he told her -- thought he meant it, too.

The musician raised an eyebrow. “You tell me,” he replied. Charlie barely allowed for the waiter to set the bottle of beer down before picking it up and having a swig. He rolled his eyes at Piper--again--and let her order for him, having another sip in the time it took her to do so. “My next move?” he repeated with another smirk when they were alone again. “Do I need moves?” he asked curiously, leaning forward on his forearms folded on the table. “You’re the one who invited me out. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

“Come now, you needn’t devalue yourself on my account, confidence is quite in style lately, we haven’t all fallen for the grunge movement just yet,” she teased, taking in another sip from her margarita as she sized him up. Now that she had apologized, the witch had expected him to be on his way. At least that had also been her intention until he had taken a seat and she had engaged him in conversation. Then she remembered of the time they had had together, and she found no reason to not pursue him. She had apologized after all, and it really would be a shame to not take advantage of the situation, no matter how manipulative that might have seemed.

“I’m much more enchanted with what’s under those jeans but I certainly don’t mind them,” she gave him a wink. He seemed much more different than he had several years ago, the sparkle of the band’s newness had faded into an image, a manifestation of confidence and star quality. It was a far cry from the boy she had known at Hogwarts and Piper distantly wondered if this upgrade in personality would somehow be reflected in other parts of his life as well.

“Oh don’t be like that, it was only a story, plus look how much you’ve all grown, I dare say it helped establish your playboy reputation,” she continued, the drinking making it much easier to speak her mind not that she had ever needed any help with that before. 

Piper contemplated his question, pausing long enough to pretend to give it some thought before continuing. “You’re quite right, you needn’t any more moves, I’m already sold,” she confessed, setting her drink down after she had finally finished it, feeling much more herself now than she had when she was sober. That probably alluded to a problem but at the moment, Piper’s reality was full of them. “I figured we’d make a nice little tradition of this, you know, we meet up for a nice little interview where I poke my nose into your business and then you come over for a little meet and greet and I send you on your way in the morning,” she continued, giving him a mischievous smirk. “Figured you might be in the market for a rebound?” she offered.

Charlie tried to recall if Piper had been this upfront the last time they’d been one-on-one like this, then decided it didn’t matter either way because it was working on him now. He rubbed his hand over his mouth and jaw, attempting to hide his grin and failing. “Enchanted?” he smirked after dropping his hand back to the table, flicking his eyebrows up at her. “Not trying to charm your way into them, are you?”

“Playboy reputation,” he echoed, adjusting in his seat and stretching one leg out. He kept his eyes on her, considering his options -- didn’t bother considering them for long because it was pretty obvious they were both ordering from the same menu.

Piper set her empty glass down and leaned in slightly. Charlie mirrored her, leaning forward on his forearms, folded on the table. The smug smirk on his lips widened as she went on. He was already wondering whose place was closer when she said she’d send him on his way in the morning -- he wouldn’t argue that it was probably better they went to hers. Not that he’d be sleeping if he was there ‘til morning. “Does it have to be every ten years, too?” he teased, not not agreeing to whatever she was asking him. The waiter reappeared and deposited their fresh margaritas, collected Piper’s empty glass, and left them alone again. 

Charlie reached for his drink and paused, fingers barely touching the glass— credit where it was due, she had balls. He held her gaze for a moment. “If that's what you wanna call it," he said, lifting his margarita to his lips and forcing himself not to finish it in one. He licked his lips and glanced back at the brunette. “Did you decide you wanted to shag me before or after the interview?”

“Why, is it working?” she retorted playfully. Although the drinking had little to do with it, Piper could easily flirt with someone like Charlie whether she was completely sober or absolutely piss drunk, it certainly did make her feel a little less guilty trying to pursue the man she had so carelessly used as a steppingstone to further her career. At that time, her reputation did not precede her the way it did now, now she could walk into whatever interview expecting her guest to know about her no-nonsense, unfiltered approach to minding someone else’s business. But at that time, how could he have known?

She wondered if it was taking him long to decide because he wanted to play hard to get or because he was actually unsure of whether he wanted to spend the night with her, either way, Piper was certainly not going to beg. Well, at least not in a crowd full of people like this.

“Of course,” she answered his question with a playful smirk of her own, “consider it a perk of being my first proper interview, like one of those muggle rewards cards, you know?” she teased. Sure, she had just compared herself to a piece of plastic used to rack up points with purchases, but she was focusing more on the fact that she was indeed a reward. “Did you miss me? We could’ve met much earlier if you hadn’t gone off and done whatever you’ve been doing, touring around the world, collecting knickers, the sort of things you band people do,” she added.

“Hm,” she furrowed her brow as if in deep concentration, sure she had considered it as soon as the opportunity to interview him came up but only because she was curious to see if that reputation of his was all talk or worth its weight in the papers. “Oh before, certainly, but I needed to see if you were going to say something silly in the interview to make me change my mind. Lucky for you, you’re still a contender,” she smiled. “Unless you’ve got some groupie waiting back at home?”