[frida's] critical mistakes || aiden

july 2004

"Get this lad a cob, he's cut off," Madelyn said with a wry smirk, even though she had only served Aiden one drink yet tonight. As soon as she'd seen his light blond hair duck into Frida's, Mady had kept an eye on the door for his two mates. One of the three was usually fine (unless Danny was owling for a Zip-Zap), but all three of them together was practically unbearable. She expected some witches to find them endearing, but Mady didn't appreciate their genius (as one of them had dubbed it). However, she did find it entertaining to watch them try to win over their female compatriots and fail.

Aiden seemed the most likely to score with a missus, but it didn't make him any less likely to have one too many and curse at the match on the radio. So she was careful not to overserve him. Frida's was nicer than that, and the game wasn't even on tonight. And as he began to protest, she waggled a finger at him. "Don't pretend you don't understand me," Madelyn smiled as her thick Brummie accent juxtaposed against his posh Edinburgh one. Aiden was all softened R's and overly-pronounced T's, and the language barrier — despite both speaking English — was a long-running joke between them.

Despite her tone, Madelyn laughed and rolled her eyes. She'd likely give him another drink, or two, and expect a tip for it, but that was part of the job.

@Aiden Donnovan

"Haud yer wheesht! That's pure shan, lassie." came the instant drawl, as Aiden leaned forward in his seat, half distracted from two very interesting things. He made it a point to slur over his words, though, give it that nice Edinburgh drawl he knew Madelyn was so bloody fond of. Half the time their conversations devolved pretty quickly, especially when the more he drank the more pronounced aforementioned accent tended to get. It almost felt like they spoke a different language half the time, which amused him a very great deal.

Nothing quite like flirting with a woman who could not understand you. Aiden enjoyed the banter, though. Fiery women, blah blah blah. Maybe he just really enjoyed arguing, actually, which put certain things into perspective. If it led to something then great and same if it didn't. He couldn't not, though.

If she was seriously trying to cut him off before he really started he'd have to put into play some strategic thinking and evasive maneuvers: which meant quite simply that he was doing to employ the eyes. "C'mon Mads." he said, blinking up big teal eyes at her. "S' the only thing thats making this conversation bearable." he added, not evening needing to pretend he was in the throes of sadness just thinking about it. Dramatic? Absolutely but Quidditch was the one thing (that he'd admit to) that made him feel real feelings. Of which right now was despair actually. The only way to really get through such a trying time was to drink and yell angry insults at people who clearly were fans of the wrong team.

Clearly the woman was an angel (or had taken pity, or was just doing her job...) and so he suddenly had acquired another drink. "Wazzat?" he asked, blinking up at her again, even as he hid his grin by taking a large gulp of his drink. Mmm. Pretending not to understand her was probably his favorite pastime, though he supposed yelling at her clientele was bad form.

Madelyn suspiciously narrowed her eyes at Aiden, but the smile lingered. He was trying to be charming, and she expected those eyes worked on most witches her age, but he'd called her Mads, and that nickname was reserved for Tommy and Anto only. "S' the only thing that's making this conversation bearable.", "For you, at least," she quipped, and her head fell back as she laughed. Aiden wasn't all bad, even if he did sound like a cartoon half the time he spoke.

Spinning around, still laughing, Madelyn poured him another pint. The foam dripped over the rim of the glass and onto the floor. "You start agging about the Griffins match, and you're on council pop the rest of the night," she warned him, pointing her thumb over her shoulder at the water tap. The last time he'd been in, someone had the match on the radio in the back, and things had not gone smoothly. And while Madelyn usually did not mind a lad who was way too into a football match (or rather, there was one wizard in particular who got a pass), Aiden's shouting had put a real damper on her tips.

She raised an eyebrow at him, basing how drunk he was on how many of his words were near impossible to understand. While Madelyn was born and raised in Birmingham, she spent most of seven years at school in Scotland. And even though Aiden's accent was more modern than most of their professors, she understood enough of it most of the time. At first, it'd been easier to pretend she didn't know what he was saying. For a bartender, Madelyn wasn't always the most social. Eventually, it turned into a joke, and now it was just something they argued over.

"And talk like a real person, you fuckin' tatter,"

He wasn’t sure if he was about to get punched or not but sometimes you had to risk it for the biscuit, or so the saying went. Besides, he was a Gryffindor wasn’t he? Caution wasn’t the name of the game. Worst case she’d cause some serious bodily harm for getting familiar enough to nickname her. “I’d buy you a pint but I guess I’ll settle for the tip jar instead.” he added, his version of making amends. On a strictly service level she was brilliant. It was a bonus that it was fun to mess with her and she was pretty. Bonuses for certain.

He resisted the urge to egg her on even more, remembering what had happened last time. He suppose he really should be considerate or he’d be giving up his first born just to try to give her enough to make up for lost tips. “Fine.” He conceded, pouting a little. It wasn’t his fault people had terrible taste and were overly sensitive. The combination tended to be volatile when he was continuously confronted with it. “So long as you keep me company?” he was still hopeful the doe eyes would have an effect.

“That’s just hurtful.” he mumbled, making sure to slur his words together extra nice for her, even as a wide grin broke out on his face. 

Aiden was pouting and Mady fought to keep the grin off her face, ultimately she lost. He was insufferable, but at least he was entertaining. "Me keep you company?" She repeated his words back at him, and then laughed again. "Ar, and where else would I go?" She nodded toward the clock on the wall by the bar, reminding him she was stuck here either way. Madelyn's shift had hardly begun, and she had at least three more hours to go -- unless it was a quiet night. If it was, her manager let her tuck out early, which happened sometimes, especially on weekdays.

Madelyn had been explicit about the shifts she was willing to work when she started at Frida's. Although her rigidity had softened over time -- now that she'd figured out how to apparate directly from work to her bedroom in Blackpool -- she still did not like to work too late into the night. Mostly because she hated to travel alone in the dark, but also because nothing good happened in bars after eleven pm. Sometimes, Madelyn had learned, nothing good happened in bars at all.

Aiden had been rowdy last time, but he hadn't been as bad as some of the blokes she'd encountered at Frida's and some of the (many) other jobs she'd had the last few years. Madelyn reminded him to keep it civil by swearing at him, and she laughed again. That's just hurtful, he said, and she shrugged. "Yow will survive." In a way, Madelyn preferred talking to Aiden because it didn't seem to matter what she said in reply. She could be rude, flirty, exhausted, or distracted, and he rarely seemed put off by her mood. He'd keep talking, and she'd keep pouring, and there was no pressure.

"Are you going to eat anything?" She asked, wondering if he planned to dilute the beer with anything or if she'd be hailing him a zip-zap later.

"You're a smart lass if you hated me that much you'd fine some sort of excuse, I'm sure." he shot back, leaning further against the tabletop. He couldn't quite keep his amusement in check, though. He supposed she could get stuck with abominable company. He also knew that she'd probably be a lot less glib if she didn't like him at least a bit. He had a certain type of respect for a witch that could hold their own at a bar, wether they worked there or not.

He took another sip of his drink, enjoying it and the witch in front of him. "Be on my best behavior." he said slowly, making sure his words remained clear. He didn't actually want to hassle her at work so it was always a very specific balance so he didn't delve into much of an annoyance. She was right in that she'd loose something if she left - be it in tips or wages, and he really did feel badly about the last time. Not quite enough to stop coming by, however, because he enjoyed some wit along with his drink. "I might not." he said, eyes glinting.

"Might be a good idea. Anything particularly good tonight?" he asked, thinking about it. Food was pretty good and he wasn't picky but he usually tired a recommendation first. 

It was all Madelyn could do not to nod at him because she was sure he was right. If she didn't want to be around him, she'd find some other patron to keep her attention. It wasn't like she had to talk to customers; it only helped with tips. She didn't nod, though, because even though it was a backhanded compliment, Madelyn didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being right about anything.

"I'll remember you said that" she warned him and grabbed a clean towel to wipe things down at the bar. She could probably use magic; it would be easier and more efficient, but then what would she do to keep her hands busy?

"Jackfruit quesadillas are a cowin' choice," Her personal favorite. Madelyn set down the glass she'd been drying, and it rattled against another, just another part of the classic bar soundtrack. Past the bar lined with near every tequila bottle in the world (she imagined), behind her, and off down the little hallway, Mady could hear the sound of the big door swinging. Waiters came in and out of the bustling kitchen, and the smells came with them. It was a weeknight, which meant soft Mexican music was playing from the wall speakers. There was a live mariachi band on Fridays, but Mady never worked at the bar on Friday nights.

"Orroight, which team broke your heart this time?" She asked, the impulse to bring up his Quidditch obsession overshadowing her need to protect her tips momentarily.