are you in love, if so what type?

He hadn't intended on being late.

While Oliver Rigby had never been a particularly punctual person— he preferred to float in and out when it suited— this Saturday, early afternoon, he was aware that he was behind schedule. Pushing the waves of chestnut hair from his forehead, he stopped briefly to look up at the sign, Frida's less fluorescent in the middle of the day. The last time he was here, he'd somehow ended up with a pitcher of pomegranate margarita to himself, and then another.

He adjusted his sunglasses as he entered but made no sudden moves to take them off. Cordelia had mentioned she booked them in for a table upstairs, out on the balcony, her idea of a late brunch. He would need them there. She mentioned knowing someone at the establishment, of course, she seemed to know just about everyone in London.

It was one of the rare, cloudless, sunny days in London and the weather had a profound impact on his mood. That, and, he and the band were on the precipice of the biggest week of their lives. Scanning the tables as he ascended the stairs, he found the familiar faces and broke into an even wider grin.

"Sorry I'm laaate," He sang out as he made his way to the table, liberally placing a kiss on the side of everyone's mouths before finding a seat adjacent to Cordy, who was naturally at the head. "Someone had to break the news that we've planned our own album release party..." Oliver quirked an eyebrow mischievously, looking at his bandmates.

Giving Cordelia's knee a little affectionate squeeze he opened his mouth to thank for her planning this little outing but noticed that she seemed— distracted— to say the least. Her eyes shifted to the doorway. Ollie scanned the crowd, their table long enough for them to break into separate conversations, and saw everyone he expected. "Are we waiting for someone?" He looked over his shoulder with a smile, then back to her. Maybe her mysterious Michael was joining?

@Cordelia Leighton

The band name might as well be Ollie and the Ollies and Cordelia, Too. Ever since California, Cordelia found herself swept along with the five of them on this adventure. She had popped over to the loft for a few more gatherings. Nothing as crazy as the California retreat, but it was good fun. They had even put her on their little communication charm - some muggle band posters that they all had in their flats now, messages scrawling across David Bowie's face.

Brunch had been her idea. She had been at a party of a friend of a friend the night before, had known she was gonna be hungover, and that the band would be into bottomless mimosas and margs. Plus, didn't they go on tour like right after the launch? There was a limited window to bask in this new group friendship.

She was a regular at Frida's now, so getting them a long table upstairs hadn't been too hard even on a busy, sunny Sunday morning. For a given value of morning. She had slept in, but so had everyone else. Cordelia still managed to be the first there, followed by Rheya and Senna and Jonesy (who had yet to share his hair secrets with her, the tease) and quiet Ben. Ollie and Liam would show up when they showed up, she figured, and ordered everyone a mimosa right off the bat.

Movement at the doorway. She dropped her sunglasses and smiled. There was Ollie. No Liam yet, but that was fine. She waved, patted the chair next to her as he made the greeting rounds. He mentioned planning his own party, and she laughed, raising her glass in greeting.

As he sat down, Cordelia's eyes slide back to the door. Liam would show whenever, but it was a little strange Noah hadn't come to say hi. She thought they had a lovely time the other night with Edith, and he brought her freebies more often than not these days. Maybe he was busy.

Ollie noticed. She waved it off, laughing a little nervously. "Well, your man, for one," Cordelia laughed, taking a sip from her glass. "I mentioned I have a friend who works here, right? Thought he might come up and say hi, is all." Noah in all his pizza-pants glory would be a bit hit with the band, she thought. "Never mind me, how are you feeling?" She grinned - she was excited for them.

There was something he couldn't quite place— not that Cordy was off— but it was clear she had something on her mind. Pulling his hands back to himself, he all too happily poured himself a flute full of mimosa from the jug on their end of the table. It was nearing on empty, Ollie signaled for another round. The sunshine, the week ahead, his god damn unshakeable good mood, all unavoidable.

"You did—" He began, smiling over the lip of his drink briefly. "—few times," He took a sip. It was the perfect mix of bubbles and orange juice, lighting his tongue in a frenzy of citrusy delight. "Liam will turn up, at some point," Ollie shrugged casually. His own band had just put out an EP and they were just as busy. Not to mention, group outings hadn't exactly been their strong suit.

"Doesn't quite seem real, does it?" He asked Cordy. She'd been almost just as much a part of the process of the rest of the band, by proxy. His mouth pulled up into a full grin and dimpled at either end, he leaned back against his chair and turned his face up to the sun. He'd always imagined these moments, but they seemed to be going by too quickly now for him to really focus on.

He needed to slow down.

Setting down his glass, Ollie rested an elbow on the table. "So, no Michael this morning?" Was it afternoon? He wasn't really sure, anymore. It seemed this new friend of hers had taken up a bit of her attention.  "Thanks for putting this together, by the way," The rest of the band were deep in conversation about their upcoming show so he used the time to appreciate her in private.

Ollie hailed for another round. Beaut. A server - not Noah, she noted bitterly - came by with the first of what she hoped was many mini churros. Cordelia pinched one between her thumb and forefinger and put the whole thing into her mouth, savouring the fried sugary goodness. She nodded as Ollie mentioned Liam - she hasn't gotten a proper chance to introduce herself, she felt, in Cali, and would love to get a chance to do so before she was day drunk. "No, it doesn't," she agreed, swallowing and following his gaze into the sky. Time, that cruel piece of work, had decided to suddenly go faster. Couldn't it have sped up like this when she was grieving, not when she was rejoicing?

Cordelia grinned, popping down her sunglasses so Ollie could catch her wink. "No problem whatsoever." It made her feel important to be in Ollie's band's orbit. California, the Paris loft, all of it was so glamorous. It was a feeling like that when she was on Brennan's arm, when they had been dating, but even more intoxicating. In 'high society' she was just a pretending to be a piece of something ancient. The band was something new.

Sometimes, watching them perform, she found herself wishing she had taken the Hogwarts school choir more seriously. Cordelia had no illusions about her talent - her voice was passable enough at a tune, but nothing to write home about. Still, she was happy to be part of the inner circle, such that there was.

At the mention of Michael, a brief flicker of annoyance passed over her features. "Not today, he doesn't believe in breakfast." Or brunch, or hanging out with artists. She couldn't blame him, but it would be nice to share some of this stuff with him. Maybe they could go to a gig together, sometime. "You'll meet him one of these days," she settled on saying. No time soon, though.

"So, news, you got any for me?" Cordelia leaned forward, taking another sip from her flute. "Because if you don't - oy, have I had a week."

He watched with delayed interest as Cordy finished the churro in an easy bite, grabbing one for himself quickly after. Dessert before breakfast (or lunch was it, by then?) was the dream. Oliver grinned, the sun on his face and the upcoming week made it feel like it was the start of something new— like he was right there on the edge of the world again. He licked the sugar and cinnamon from his thumb and forefinger before looking back to her under the guise of sunglasses.

"Who doesn't believe in breakfast?" The wizard's mouth was agape as he adjusted in the wicker bench that had a vibrant, colorful cushion atop. "Well, s'pose I'll try not to judge him for that..." Ollie washed the fried dough down with a mouthful of his drink, eager to catch up on all that he'd missed so far, being a professional musician, and all of that, he thought with a skip of his heart— again.

His chin landed comfortably in his palm, elbow planted on the corner of the table as soon as Cordy mentioned she'd had a week. He never turned up the opportunity to hear a story that started like that. The little things, the things that mattered to people on a personal level, were the most interesting to him. Much more than continuing to talk about himself. As George Jones got up for the toilet, Ollie ran a free hand absently up his arm in greeting, eyes still on Cordelia.

"Want to talk about it?" He offered, his voice sleepy through his little grin despite being wide awake. He took his sunglasses off. It felt disingenuine to not make proper eye contact, he thought.

Cordy shrugged. Ollie's incredulity was precious- it reminded her of her own reaction the first time Michael had turned down a morning meal at her place.  "No, judge him, I'm judging him too." She laughed, a little bit of cinnamon sugar dislodging from the corners of her mouth. She brushed the crumbs off her face with a lazy flick of her hand. "He's devastatingly mundane, Michael is," Cordelia said, smiling despite herself. It was true, but she was so devastatingly happy with him, it didn't even register that might not sound like a perk to Oliver.

Ollie looked up at her with that look - a curious puppy dog look like nothing else in the world was nearly as interesting as whatever she was saying. She grinned, taking off her sunglasses and placing them on the table next to the cutlery. Rheya and Senna were gossiping gleefully on the other side of the table, and Jonesy was taking his beautiful hair to the washroom. It was like there was a little bubble of just them for a moment. She laughed, squeezed his arm lightly before leaning back.

"Of course I want to talk about it," Cordy said, a light smirk forming. "Listen, you remember Brennan Reinhardt? He was in Hufflepuff with us, your year, you two must have been roommates." She waited for him to confirm his remembrance for a second, adding an extra detail - "Owns an art gallery now." She leaned back, settling into her cushion. "We dated last year for like two months, hardly anything. Anyway, I had to interview him for work - " she paused, remembering how angry she was, and took the funny spin - "and at the end of the interview he asked me out! Again!" She threw up her hands, laughing. "Can you believe it? I dump him a year ago and he thinks he can get me back?" She laughed again, rolling her eyes, waiting for Ollie to laugh at this poor sucker with her.

Oliver smiled faintly, knowingly, as his friend spoke of how devastatingly mundane the man she was dating was. The look on her face said otherwise. He let out a breath of air when it felt like his heart was swelling against his lungs. Love, even by proxy, was intoxicating.

"Brennan..." His eyes turned up to the sky in thought before his finger flew into the air, having put a face to the name. "I do, I do," He wagged his finger around before tapping it softly against his jaw, eyes brimming with thought again. "The one with the—" Ollie gestured vaguely to his own face. He was going to say eyes, or cheekbones, or something, but couldn't decide which one he actually meant, so instead he listened as Cordelia finished the story, interest piqued.

"You what? Playfully slapping a hand to the table when she mentioned that she dated him, he let out a laugh. The two of them were well beyond any jealousy, he thought. Ollie's mouth pulled into a grin, watching as she animatedly came to the conclusion of the tale.

"Well..." He began, paused for a sip of mimosa (that was effectively just champagne), then continued. "Did you tell him about your devastatingly mundane Michael, then?" He wondered out loud with a pleasant smile that made it clear that he didn't agree with the adjective despite not having known the guy at all. "Also, owns an art gallery?" Ollie planted his hands on the table dramatically. "You sure he's only a year older?" He shook his head, eyes wider than they were before.