[chester's] love & war in your twenties

"I'll take another, Alex!" Danny called across the bar as he leaned his elbows on it and wagged his brows at the blonde behind the counter who was cute but who told him enough times that he was 'adorable' that he got the hint. She wasn't interested, but she was a good audience. Usually laughed at all of his jokes, went along with the 'creative' cocktail names he invented, and didn't grumble too much on the occasions when he sloshed his beer on the floor during an exuberant retelling of an anecdote from work. Their lot were regulars at good ol' Chester's and what little he made at the Ministry as a glorified mail man was usually spent right back here in beer. Well that and rent. When he remembered. Uusally.

Now that Freya was in charge of rent, he was thinking that they might actually make more of their rent payments on time. Hopefully. He didn't think their 82-year-old prim landlady would take to their bribes of weed like how they'd done with their last super. But hey, you never knew. They hadn't gotten to the point where they needed to try that yet though.

But it was Friday, thank the goblins. Danny wasn't sure what it was about work lately but it was just so drab and dull and the usual banter and tomfoolery that used to keep him entertained with Jere just didn't seem to be enough anymore. When he first started at the Ministry, an easy job with relatively good pay, he never thought he'd want anything more or different. But now he was wondering what had changed to make him feel so restless. Friday nights at Chester's where he could let loose and cheat behind Jere's back at darts were always a highlight. Especially when Corner's girl graced them with her presence and brought up the average of the attractiveness of the group. He would say it any chance he got, but how Corner managed to lockdown Cordy was beyond him. She was without a doubt out of Corner's league, but she was good fun. Speaking of..

"And another for the lady as well?" Danny asked as he smiled at Cordy next to him and nudged her arm with his elbow. "On me," he added graciously. Of course, he had been putting everything on Michael's tab and hoped he wouldn't notice but no one needed to know that.

@Cordelia Leighton

Danny Willbond was fun.

Ari had gotten close with Freya Trickett and her hangers-on when Cordelia was in sixth year, so Cordy had missed the chance to really get to know those Gryffindors back then. Funny, wasn't it, how year and age had been no problem for her and Ari and Camm, but her memories of the rest of that graduating class were so muddled. She remembered the Hufflepuffs, of course, the ones just ahead and just behind, but the other houses had faded out into the general post war catatonia of her last years at school.

She wondered if the Dannys and the Jeremys of the school had been this cheerful then, too. Danny seemed resilient -- a smile never seemed too far from his dimpled cheeks. Just looking at him was like staring into a warm lamp in the dead of winter, sometimes. Or like holding a cup of cocoa. Just a spot of cheer in the world.

Cheer and a spot of bother for Michael at work, of course, but it was nice when he had a ridiculous story to tell at the table.

Cordelia gave Michael a little peck on the cheek before extracting herself from their seat. Her glass was empty again, which was just so not acceptable on a Friday night this close to May. And look who it was, here and not throwing darts dangerously close to other people's heads. "Oh, you mustn't," Cordelia said to the offer, smiling brightly and tipsily at Danny. "But yes, another." Another was another vodka-cran, which Alex was already reaching for; Cordelia worried she was becoming predictable.

"Er, whatever he's having, actually, thanks," Cordelia half shouted, nudging her elbow back into Danny's arm. "What are we drinking, then?"

Danny grinned and nodded at Cordy as she agreed to another drink and raised a brow. "You sure about that?" he asked as Alex slid him a cheap beer. He had no shame in the careless shrug he gave, no pretense that he had refined tastes. It was beer and it was cheap. "Tricky always says it's trash but after a few you barely notice it," Danny said in a ringing endorsement.

Alex set one down in front of Cordelia as well before she gave him a warning look, "Don't try to give me excuses on the bill this time." Danny nodded seriously and put a hand over his heart. "Wouldn't dream of it," he told her before she moved on down the counter to help the next customer and Danny glanced at Cordy. "Spot me twenty?" he asked, but he laughed it off. It was (mostly) a joke.

"How's everything going for you.. at the.. Prophet?" he ventured, hoping he was remembering the right workplace. He really should pay attention to the details more, he knew that, but he was half-sure he was right. "You know, you're welcome to write about me anytime," he added as he took a drag on his beer, leaning against the bar as he faced her with a smile.

You sure about that? Cordelia had been, but now she wasn't so sure. It was just beer, right? Cordelia could drink beer. The glass in front of Danny was a yellow-amber, so, like, normal beer color, and clear through. And it wasn't like she and Freya Trickett had that much in common, anyway. "I'll be fine, Dan," she said, trying out another nickname on her tongue. It didn't seem to fit the cheerful man beside her -- he was definitely a Danny, not a Dan.

She sipped at her own glass while Danny and the bartender bantered -- it was only tasting a little bit like piss and hops, and was surprisingly inoffensive. "It's fine," she lied to Danny, taking a long sip. At least she was already tipsy. "What, twenty quid? Twenty knuts?" She hoped it wasn't twenty Galleons -- her advance was good for the book, but it wasn't break-the-bank-at-the-bar good. Her purse was tucked into her skirt pocket, inside a very handy but very fragile Extending charm. She stuck her hand in and fished around. "Don't tell Michael."

"Prophet's good," she said, sipping at the beer again (more and more tolerable with every sip, it was.) "Writing's good. All's good." All wasn't good -- she really needed to tell Michael about her book, it had been ages since Edith found out now -- but that was a tomorrow problem, or perhaps a May problem. Danny posed for her - Cordelia laughed. "Such a charming subject, how could I resist?" she teased, squeezing his arm affectionately.

She had half a mind to ask -- can I get a quote from you for my book about the war, then -- but bit her tongue. "I got a pitch for you when I'm sober, maybe," she said instead, tapping the back of his hand. "But you'll have to remind me."

Danny smiled and gave her a shrug. He was used to the shitty quality and was weirdly loyal to it, but he grinned wider as she said it was 'fine'. "Sure, sure," he said easily, his eyes squinted, nodding sagely. He totally believed her. He took a big gulp himself and then another, drinking half his glass in two seconds. He felt a good belch coming up soon, but he didn't think chicks liked it when he burped in their faces so he tried to hold it back.

That effort didn't last long because she surprised him by kind of agreeing to lend him some money. His brows rose in surprise and the burp escaped accidentally. He did give her a little sorry and at least didn't blow the smell into her face like he might've if Jere had been in her place. Look, ma, he was getting more mature. "Twenty... galleons?" he asked tentatively, giving her a sidelong look, testing the waters to see just how much he could get away with. But as she actually started to reach into her purse, Danny laughed. He reached out to still her with a hand on her forearm. "I'm just kidding. Corner would have my head. Or just make it rain in my office for the next week."

As she rattled off the good, good, good list, he nodded along, twisting his beer round and round in little circles. He smiled wider as she called him charming. Yes, he supposed he was charming, wasn't he. He patted her hand on his arm with his free hand. "A pitch?" he repeated, thinking of the green turf of a quidditch field. But no, that didn't make sense. He blinked dumbly before he let it go. His braincells were not all there tonight. "Alright," he agreed easily enough. "Adding it to the mental to do list," Danny squeezed his eyes shut and tried to make it look like his brain was working hard (but hopefully it didn't come off as constipated) and then gave her a smile. "Done. Will this be considered by 15 minutes of fame?"