Magical Hogwarts

 The Hog's Head was not her usual vibe. Like at all. But the the stark difference to her usual hipster, urban aesthetic bars with indie art on the wall and full of beanie-wearing men and tatted chicks was refreshing. New, cool. She liked it even if the tables were sticky and she wasn't exactly sure what the two wizards over in the corner looked like they were haggling about.

As much as the conversation was interesting and intriguing round the table she was at, she couldn't help but be distracted by something else. So with a call to see who else wanted another drink, she slipped away from the table, after sliding over Dawn's lap as since Sen had been on the inside of the booth, she went up to the guy behind the bar.

"What’s the criac?" she said in hello as she came up to lean against the bar, her eyes bright despite the number of drinks she had had, her hands fiddling with the cuff of her long white sleeve shirt that she had paired with her short black skirt and favorite black chunky https://www.pinterest.com/pin/411868328432537514/' rel='nofollow noopener' target='_blank'>heels. "I need your help," she said seriously, her chin tucked down before she smiled widely. "Want to help me steal that sword? I know, I know, stealing, shame on me. But I swear it's for a good cause."


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@Artie Harrison

 Trying to eavesdrop on a pair of wizards was significantly more difficult after this group of… people came in. They weren’t dressed for the Hog’s Head–though he wouldn’t know where they were dressed for–and Artie found himself wondering if it were possible for an entire group to get lost and wind up here. A mass directional hysteria? Whatever. Artie ran his rag along the bartop again before leaning back against the shelf with dusty bottles of liquor, his arms folded across his chest.

But this was useless. Artie sighed and straightened up, figuring he could go clean up somewhere else; he only had a couple hours left on his shift, anyway. The bartender–Artie called him not-Seamus because he hadn’t bothered to properly introduced himself and Artie didn’t care enough to ask–had other plans for him, announcing he had to take the leak, telling Artie to watch the bar. He shrugged, otherwise staying motionless, cleaning just as much as he had been before.

He had seen her approaching the bar, had hoped she wouldn’t, only turned to look at her properly at the craic. Artie raised his eyebrows, nodding instead of actually saying anything. He hoped she didn’t want a drink– except of course she did, considering she was at the bar, in a pub. Artie sighed and nodded again when she said she needed his help. “Aye?”

But– steal the sword. Artie looked toward the sword on the wall, crossed with a mace, both equally rusted, and then looked back to the woman. It was for a good cause, she said, and Artie smiled crookedly, almost reluctantly (and certainly against his better judgment). He set the rag down as he took a step closer. “What’s the good cause?”

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 Her gaze ran over the curve of his shoulder, the shift of his brows at her request, and she even caught the sigh - which she hoped was a good sign and not a bad one. But his crooked smile made her smile and it gave her hope.

"Well, it's a bit of a long story but I-- wait.." Senna stopped as a smile grew even bigger on her lips as she looked him over, trying to decipher if his aura was more grey or more blue, but either way it felt smoky and wispy as if it would disappear if you looked too hard at it. "You're not saying no?" she asked with a tilt of her head. She, for sure, thought the light thievery aspect might put a damper on the request,

Senna leaned into the bar, her honey eyes glittering with mischief. "I'll tell you everything but you're gonna have to vow an oath of secrecy," she said with an impish smile, mostly joking but maybe not...

 It was a long story, but good news for her: Artie wasn’t exactly busy. But wait– she smiled, and Artie’s eyebrows went up again, wondering what that was about. She asked if he wasn’t saying no, and he smiled again, his face relaxing. “I’m not.” Did she know where she was? She could probably ask literally anyone in this pub to steal that sword and they would, if they were bored enough.

She leaned forward and Artie tiled at the waist, not leaning in completely. She wasn’t telling him anything yet, though, asking him for an oath of secrecy instead. He stared at her for a second, sizing her up, trying to figure out what she was getting at. She didn’t look the sort to trick him into an Unbreakable Vow but looks were deceiving– did he know where he was? But she really didn’t look it; he thought he had enough experience to suss out the seedy sorts.

And he was bored.

He straightened up, looking solemn, then placed his right hand on his heart. “My word is my bond,” he said, as if he could possibly be serious. He leaned in closer then, ready to hear what she had to say. “So what’s the good cause?” He asked again.
 

 Senna straightened as he did, her honey eyes bright, as he swore an oath. It wasn't a blood oath and they hadn't shared a drink from the same cup, but there was something in his voice that made her believe she could trust him. What an interesting bloke she had found in the Hog's Head. She would have to hang out here more often.

Leaning in and mirroring his stance, Senna smiled widely, the excitement of pending secrets being shared was in her voice. "Ok so," she started before rattling on and on about the full story. "I was at St. Mungo's last week, terminal ward. Very sad stuff. But I go to play some music and they seemed to like it. Anywho! I met a kid called Nolan who likes the band and he's really obsessed with medieval stuff. Really into it. Almost freakishly obsessed, but he's eight so it's cute. And he needs a sword for this costume party that the ward is throwing and I don't know, I just saw that one hanging there, no one using it, and figured we could put it to better use. Don't you think?"

She glanced up at him, trying to gauge where he was at with the idea, but decided to tack on an extra incentive. "I promise I'll just borrow it. I'll even do an energy cleansing on it before I bring it back. What do you say?"

 OK, so– she was off to a good start; or, at least, he was hooked on whatever it was she was about to say. She jumped into something tragic, going on about a terminally ill child she had played music for at the hospital. There was a lot to unpack there–what band?–but she was still going. The kid was obsessed with medieval stuff and whatever the reason she was about to offer, his mind was already wandering toward his brother, who had been really into fire engines (but was that before or after he was obsessed with dinosaurs?) as a kid.

He didn’t miss anything she was saying, despite the minor distraction. “Aye.” She wasn’t wrong– the sword had been there for decades, as far as Artie knew, and if it was worth anything, it would have been stolen ages ago. He nodded, dipping his chin once, for emphasis on his agreement.

She just wanted to borrow it, she said, and Artie had to laugh at that. “Right, of course.” Because stealing was bad. Again, did she know where she was? At least she had picked one of the nicer criminals–reformed, of course–to talk to.

He was still leaning over the bar, the volume of his voice kept low. “I don’t think we’ll be wanting it back if it’s got clean energy,” he said, his eyebrows going up on his last two words, his skepticism apparent, but maybe not as apparent as his amusement. He straightened up, then looked at the sword again. Maybe the kid would want the mace, too; it’d be a lot more obvious that the sword was gone if the other weapon was left up there by itself.

“What’s your plan, then?”

 Senna's smile grew wider as he nodded and voiced a word of agreement. She really hadn't expected this to work, but wow what were the odds she would find a bloke willing to help her with her slightly crazy plan. Then again, it was the Hog's Head.. so maybe she shouldn't be that surprised. But there was something about the timbre of his laugh that made her smile bigger. "No really, just borrowing it," she said again through a huff of a laugh, her honey eyes sparkling with amusement.

She leaned in a little closer, her arms on the bar top, which she regretted immediately because the surface was sticky with Merlin knew what, but she didn't miss the skepticism in his voice about the energy cleansing. She almost rolled her eyes, if only more people knew how helpful they could be. Instead, she gave him a one-shouldered shrug. "Alright then, no energy cleansing. Dirty energy only," she joked with a grin before she glanced around surreptitiously, hoping no one was listening in on their pending petty crime.

His question threw her for a loop and she met his gaze, frozen for the briefest of moments before she gave him a rueful smile. "I don't have one," she admitted unabashedly. "I didn't think you'd actually say yes," Senna added with a laugh before she glanced up at the sword again. "What if I created a distraction? Do you think it's heavy?" His plan for logistics only inspired more questions of her own. "What do you suggest?"  

 “Right,” he said again. “‘Course.” Borrow the sword, steal it, same difference. Something about her was brighter when she laughed, definitely not like anyone who should be stealing things, or be in this pub.

Artie returned her grin. The energy cleansing, the general sparkly vibe– whatever her plan actually was, she’d be needing his help and nevermind his being bored, he actually sort of wanted to help. She smiled again, then admitted to not having a plan, and Artie nodded, as if he’d been expecting that. (He had.)

He followed her glance to the sword, trying to come up with anything that was more elaborate than ‘walk over there and take it off the wall’; he figured that would work–this wasn’t exactly the sort of place where you questioned anyone’s motives for doing anything–but he also figured she needed something a bit flashier. He turned his head forward again, meeting her eye as he smiled lopsidedly. “Er, yeah.” Not heavy, not really, not for him, but– what did he suggest? He hadn’t come up with the flashy plan yet, and he was more in the business of doing things without being noticed.

But again, this was the Hog’s Head, and he worked there, and– “I can take it down for cleaning.” He lifted the rag that he had left laying on the bar, then dropped it again. “Well, ‘cleaning’, more like.” He lifted his hand for a pair of air quotes, because actual cleaning was far less believable.
 

 She knew he didn't believe her, but he had the charm and smile that made it endearing. Senna knew he'd probably be surprised when she did bring it back. The drama of it all in her mind's eye was very attractive, so much so that she spaced for a few brief second's before the flash of his smile caught her eye.

His lopsided smile was kind of nice too. How had she not noticed that before? She noticed the curve of his shoulder and down her back before she refocused on his grand plan. Which she promptly gave a little pout too without realizing it. "Just take it down? You don't need me to create a distraction? I could faint, I'm a real good fake fainter," she said with a smile and a curious want for something more dramatic.

If she could have just walked over and taken it off the wall herself, with no one even caring to stop her, then she didn't want it at all. She eyed up how much room she had for the dramatic distraction she was cooking up and she glanced back at the bartender, just waiting for his go ahead.  

 She questioned his plan and this wasn’t really why, but this was why he usually worked alone. He didn’t need–or want–the criticism. “Yeah, well–” he started, but she was already going on, telling him how good a fainter she was: real good. And she seemed excited about it, too.

It was hard not to return her smile. “Okay, okay, how about…” He trailed off as if he was actually giving his new plan some thought (except, he was kind of getting into it; it was a slow night and the crowd wasn’t as shifty as he would have preferred). “You faint,” he said, lowering his voice and leaning in again. “Create the distraction, like.” He nodded twice. “And then I can grab it.” He was still going to just… walk over there and take it down. It seemed less conspicuous than accio-ing a sword across the room.

He considered her for a second, his eyes narrowing. Artie had known her all of five minutes, but she seemed the type to get really into it, considering, and– “Just don’t er, hit your head on the way down?” Because that wasn’t the sort of attention the Hog’s Head needed. Nor was it the sort of thing Artie wanted to clean. “Or,” he started again, elaborating on their plan a little more, “I can catch you, then go get help?” He smiled again, hoping it conveyed some sort of I’m-not-just-trying-to-cop-a-feel sort of expression.

 Sen wasn't surprised her pitch had worked (she had a great streak going with persuading people to see her way), but she was still pleased that he seemed in on her idea. Plus, that smile. She leaned against the bar, her arms folded in front of her on the counter top and immediately regretting it as she felt the sticky surface. She tried to be discreet as she shifted so her arms weren't on the bar top, still listening to their new collaborative plan with interest.

Her honey eyes were bright even in the dim room, her smile widening as she nodded after each part of this new plan. "Now that sounds like a really great plan, glad I came up with it all by myself," she joked but she still gave him a nod. "Let's do it," she whispered with a sort of quiet glee. Usually Rheya was her partner in crime, sometimes Ollie, but it was fun to see that even some perfect strangers could be a good fill in. And bringing the sword to the hospital tomorrow would just be that much better.

She laughed at his warning and shook her head. "Promise I won't," she told him warmly, but she would be lying if that exact idea didn't cross her mind - just for the drama. Then again she wasn't trying to go to the Hospital Wing herself and as much as she loved the sight of blood, she didn't want to have to recall the blood removal charm for her white shirt later. But she saw that look in his eye and she knew it well. And his idea was a great one.

"I'm in," she said with a grin and then a nod. "Don't you have to be on this side though," she said gesturing toward her side of the bar. "Unless you want me to come back there. I bet I'd make a great guest bartender," she added, getting distracted by that idea. Who knew coming to the Hog's Head tonight would prove to be so entertaining.  

Artie was still smiling; she did have a point. He had repeated what she had already said (though he thought he gave it an air of authority). Still, he knew how to return a compliment: “Aye, nicely done.” She whispered, so he dropped his volume to match hers. “Alright,” he said with a small nod. Let’s do it, indeed.

He told her to mind her head and she laughed, which was an added benefit to her not concussing herself. “Good.” A girl with a head injury was really just not his scene. She liked the rest of his plan–the bit about catching her–and that was good, too. He smiled again. “Ah,” he said, eyebrows up, peering down at the bar as if he hadn’t noticed it there before. She offered to come around to his side, maybe tend the bar, and he laughed. “I’m sure you would,” he said skeptically, already moving to walk around the bar. (He had only stuck around in the first place because not-Seamus had asked him to man the bar while he went in the back, mistaking Artie for someone who was happy to help.)

Artie stopped in front of her, almost too close, with one hand gripping the edge of the bar, the other hanging at his side, ready to catch her. “We should probably pretend to have a conversation,” he said with a nod. “Make it look realistic, like.” And not like he had come around the bar conveniently just in time to catch her when she fainted.

“I’m Artie,” he said, figuring that was as good a place as any to start a fake conversation.

"What don't believe me?" she asked with a impish smile when she picked up a skeptical note in his tone about her guest bartending skills, her eyes following him appreciatively as he walked around the bar, not being shy in her perusal of him. Had she ever bartended? Absolutely not. Would she make a fabulous spectacle of it and have fun in the process? Of course.

Plus, it was the Hog's Head. It wasn't like things could get any worse around here and she imagined the customers might like a little change in scenery with the staff. And she wouldn't mind the attention, for the most part, either.

He came closer and she felt the pulse of his smoky blue-gray aura in her mind's eye, like fog on a cool summer morning just before daybreak. She could feel the space between them like a tingle on her skin and she smiled up at him, their sneaky plan zinging through her with excitement and intrigue, but she tried to wrangle her emotions and be cool about it. He was much better at that than she was, but she was eager to carry out their little plan as best she could.

As if anyone in the Hog's Head noticed. Or would even care if they did notice.

Regardless, Senna nodded at his great idea. He was good at this whole thing, she'd have to tell Rhey she had competition in the partner-in-crime department. "Right, right," Sen said with a nod. "I'm Senna, and this is where I would say something completely witty and clever that would make you chuckle," she prompted him, her brows perking up a bit to cue him.

"But oh no," she said, her voice low so no one else would overhear (as if anyone cared) and she touched her forehead, a frown marring her face as she played up the dramatics. "I don't-- I don't think I feel well," she said, concern tinging her voice, but there was a devilish glint in her eye as she leaned closer to him, her hand touching his arm as if she needed support.

A second later she was swaying against him, allowing herself to fall fully against him in a 'faint,' trusting this perfect stranger far more than she should have to catch her. And true to her word, she was a good fake fainter. An audible exhale - both shaky and surprised - as her body went limp, falling against him, her face going slack, innocently enjoying the feel of his body against hers.

The only break in character was the impish tilt of her lips for the briefest of seconds, amused that this near stranger was up for her antics, before she made her expression go blank again.

Senna saying that this would be where she would say something witty and clever to make him chuckle… was witty and clever and made him chuckle. “Of course,” he said with a nod and a smile.

“Oh no,” he repeated, not asking as if he didn’t know what she was talking about. He reminded himself of the plan—how could he forget—and he rearranged his expression to something more alarmed, minus the hint of a grin. Senna said she didn’t feel well and Artie repeated himself, more concerned this time: “Oh, no.” She reached for his arm and he squeezed his hand into a fist, making his arm sturdier– with an added bonus of flexing his forearm.

He carried on with his chivalry. “I’ve got you.” There was one second of actual worry–she really was a good fake fainter–but as soon as she went boneless, he remembered the plan. “Oh, no,” he said one more time–for emphasis–and a little louder, one arm looped around her, under her arms, the other loosely around her waist. “She’s fainted.”

The most logical next step was to lay her on the floor, but Artie hesitated; he was the cleaner at the Hog’s Head, so he knew exactly how clean the pub floor was. (It wasn’t.) Thankfully, one of her friends had been paying attention, was coming towards them. “Can you?...” It was an awkward hand off–his hand grazing her chest genuinely was unintentional–and once his hands were free, he took a step back. “I’ll get some water.”

It wasn’t what you did for people who had fainted–again, he wasn’t about to subject her to the floor he had literally never even pretended to mop–but he wasn’t going to actually get her a glass of water. Attention sufficiently drawn to the commotion, Artie stepped toward the sword, pulling it off the wall (by hand), then grabbing the mace it had been crossed with after another second.

Behind the bar, he leaned both weapons against the shelving and still no one was paying any attention to him. He made a reach toward a glass–for the water–but stopped, hand hovering in the air. “She’s awake,” he said, before she had opened her eyes; hopefully that would be cue enough.

Senna was positively delighted at their ruse and it took all her effort not to give it away on her face. Rhey always said she was easy to read and she usually counted it as a positive. She just hoped that trait didn't betray her now.

Honestly, though, if fake fainting allowed her to get closer to a perfectly handsome stranger like this and feel his hands on her, even if it was under the guise of catching her mid-fake-faint, Senna wondered if she should try it more often. Plus the flurry of activity around her was fun. She heard footsteps approach and wondered which of her friends had noticed and stepped in to her. The timbre of a voice dotted with a Nigerian accent sounded with concern above her head. Ah, Musa. He did have the biggest heart and she could hear the worry in his tone as Artie shifted her to her friend's grasp. Senna had to work at keeping her expression blank, her body limp.

Another voice joined Musa's over her head, a frantic concern in Beatrice's voice as she came closer somewhere by her feet. Not that she could look. Senna felt bad as they worried over her, clearly not thinking this plan all the way through as her friends debated which charm to try to help her. She was trying to figure out how long she would have to be in this fake faint, straining to hear any noises that might alert her that Artie had carried out his side of the plan, but she didn't pick up anything except for his clear voice saying "She's awake." Great cue.

Senna fluttered her eyelids open, trying to look dazed and confused as she looked up at Musa. They fussed over her but she tried to push away their concern with a smile she hoped looked easy, giving excuses that this happened all the time and that it wasn't a big deal. "I'll just have some water and I think I'll be good," she told her friends as they helped her up and sat her on a stool. She eyed Artie, her eyes darting quickly to the spot where the sword had hung. Senna tried to hide her smile when she saw it was no longer on the wall.

"Do you.. is there a quiet room by chance I can use for a few moments by chance? No, Musa, really I'm fine. I need to cleanse my aura after all that and you know how it is, better done alone so I don't get any interferences from other auras," she explained to her friend, a hand on his arm to reassure him. "I'll be just a few moments, really," Senna added before she looked expectantly at the bartender. They hadn't really discussed the aftermath of the plan but she figured there had to be a storage room or something around here where she could apparate out with the sword unnoticed. Oh and also she just wanted to check it out up close. It looked fucking rad.