Winding Down

[Jack Bowler]

Mite infestations. Breakouts of giggles. Nurses scampering around the fourth floor trying hard themselves not to laugh at the contagiousness of it all. The day had ended about as quietly as it had begun and Jack found himself not long after his shift ended sitting in one of the leather booths of the nearby bar waiting for a drink and some food, he’d ordered.

The waitress had been kind to him as he’d entered still in his scrubs. He’d found a seat quietly and had taken it, pulling a menu from its holder to browse over it. She’d come. He’d ordered. And now he sat stirring a straw around in the ice water he’d been given.

“Drink’ll be right up,” she called from behind the counter towards him. He nodded taking a drink of his water before he set it aside. He glanced around the place wondering how long ago it had been given a formal makeover. The walls were littered with autographs of well known witches and wizards around the world that had stopped by for one reason or another.

“..here you go.” He looked up and nodded politely as he took his drink from her.

“Thanks,” he commented immediately taking a drink of it.

“No problem. Food’ll be up shortly.”

He nodded setting the glass down. He withdrew the Daily Prophet from his briefcase and opened it settling in for a quiet read of the day’s headlines while he waited.

[Tatum MacNamara]

"Bloody hell. Bloody hell. Bloody hell."

Tatum repeated the two words like some deranged mantra as she hobbled into the bar. If she had bothered to change out of the telltale lime green robes, someone might have mistaken her for an escapee from the spell damage floor, a hapless sort who perhaps charmed one leg shorter than the other for all the gimplike walking.

But the moment of quasi-quasimodo-ness was caused by none other than defective footware. That's right, her left shoe had decided to simply snap clean off as she stepped off the curb in front of the hospital. That's what she got for apparating like a civilized person. So many years in the company of muggles had left the odd side effect of her forgetting at times the simpler way to do a thing. The whole principle of sailing that her family had been founded, afterall, seemed anthitethical to wizardry. Why take a boat when you could easily just 'crack' have something where it needed to be? But her family had come from the sea and never were able to extricate themselves from it, making their existence closer to the muggles who lived in the houses that surrounded them in their sleepy Irish village than to any of their wizard cousins.

And Tatum's grace suffered for it now as she scuffed into The Bar, mind occupied with one thought and one thought alone, a dry seat to park her bony arse upon so she could see to the wayward shoe, the heel of which had been sacrificed into a sewer grate and utterly irretreivable as it was not wise to just brandish wands on busy sidewalks.

Ahead she saw a booth with an vacant bench like an oasis in a seering desert, and without so much as a howdoyoudo, she found herself sitting across from a gentleman she didn't take the time to study too intensely as she looked down at her ruined pump, speaking to it in effigy for the man.

"Sorry fer the intrustion. I'll just be a second."

But once she studied the shoe, she assessed the time it would take to come up with a rational solution to the problem.

". . . er, maybe make that . . . ten minutes tops." She finally looked up at the gentleman before adding, "Unless ye want me te move now, o'course . . ."

[Jack Bowler]

Jack’s attention moved to those outside moving along the streets. Muggles and magic alike intermixed into one big melting pot out there, none aware that the person beside them could be considerably different. Funny how ignorance was such bliss at times.

A woman hobbled by; the heel on her shoe clearly broken. He wondered for a brief moment how it was that women could walk with such horrors upon their feet. Watching her struggle to walk was enough to make him grateful that he didn’t have to bear such a curse. She disappeared from his sight and he looked back to his drink taking another swig of it.

The ice clinked as he set it down and looked up as the bar’s door opened. The very same woman entered moving through the restaurant towards him. The green robe to him was recognizable. Only one profession bore that color robe and one place.

"Sorry fer the intrustion. I'll just be a second."

”No problem,” he replied watching her curiously as she fiddled with the shoe. It looked like a lost cause to him. It looked like one back when she was on the street.

". . . er, maybe make that . . . ten minutes tops." She finally looked up at the gentleman before adding, "Unless ye want me te move now, o'course . . ."

“Still not a problem,” he commented as he took another drink. “The booth is quite large enough for the both of us.”

[Tatum MacNamara]

Tatum smiled despite herself, never having been one to take herself too seriously. It was nearly impossible to do so with five older brothers, always eager to tease and torment their baby sister. But the constant rough and tumble with her older siblings had a positive effect on the Irish witch, making her more easygoing than most. She was the sort of person who always seemed to be in a good mood despite circumstances, and usually, she was.

"Thank ye. Yer a lifesaver."

Looking back down to her shoes, she frowned sligtly, "I dinna suppose yer a . . . what do ye call a person who makes shoes? cobbler, maybe? Then ye could save the life o'these . . ." and then without much warning she took off her other shoe and banged it hard against the table, the heel snapping off so now she had a pair of makeshift flats.

"What do ye know?" she beamed as she reached under the table to reshoe her bare foot. "That dinna take ten minutes after all."

[Jack Bowler]

Southern charm. That was what came with Jack. He’d spent his whole life in Alabama under the eyes of a watchful sister who felt it necessary to teach him how to behave in front of a lady. The south had its ways of producing individuals who were exceptionally laid back, polite and overly calm. Jack was no different. And he figured that if he had stayed in Alabama he would have been married with children about now. Of course he’d opted the other path and ended up here.

"Thank ye. Yer a lifesaver."

“That’s my job,” he replied taking a quick drink once more. The glass set hollowly on the table as he watched her with her shoe dilemma. It would be interesting to see what she did to fix it. Magic? Nothing at all?

There was a crack against the table causing the ice in his glass to rattle. Question answered. He watched her slip her shoe back on and he smiled.

"What do ye know?" she beamed as she reached under the table to reshoe her bare foot. "That dinna take ten minutes after all."

He nodded. “And ya went and got yourself a new pair of shoes,” he commented in his southern drawl. “Mighty impressive to this farm boy.”

[Tatum MacNamara]

“That’s my job,” he replied taking a quick drink once more

"Yer job?" she asked, arching a curious brow. "Ye work across the street, then?" she half assumed, half asked. He had the easy demeanor of a good doctor, the sort that would not be rattled by a bloody this or an oozing that. Of course, not everyone in their what seemed to be shared profession had such a personality. There were plenty of brow furrowed, bustling, stress mavens and anger balls lurking through the corridors of Mungo's. And most of them Tatum wouldn't even wish to spend the time it took to fix a bum pump in with.

But from what she sensed about the man across from her, she was in no rush to be on her way. She always enjoyed meeting new people, and all he was keeping her from was getting drunk in a place not nearly as nice as this one.

"And ya went and got yourself a new pair of shoes,” he commented in his southern drawl. “Mighty impressive to this farm boy.”

"I did, dinna I?" she laughed melodiously, drawing her feet off the floor and extending her legs from the booth in to the aisle for him to 'admire.' "An they're smart lookin in all. Maybe I've found a new callin, aye?"

Her feet safely stowed in their proper place upon the floor, she added coyly, "An I'm pleased te impress ye. I always do me best te entertain handsome blonde lifesavers when I have the good fortune o'meetin them. 'Specially the kind with cute accents."

[Jack Bowler]

“Yer job?" she asked, arching a curious brow. "Ye work across the street, then?"

He smiled. “Some would question whether I work or not,” he replied looking up as the waitress floated by quietly refilling the glass he’d emptied with more iced tea. It was only on a really rare occasion that Jack switched to alcohol. And while today had been stressful it hadn’t warranted an alcohol induced escape. Not yet anyway. “But for the most part I do.”

He leaned to the side a moment making it obvious that he was looking. “I’d venture to guess that you work there as well.” He picked up his glass and took a drink, using the glass to motion towards her. “Guessing by the green robe that is. Not many would be brave enough to make such a fashion statement ‘round these parts.”

"I did, dinna I?" she laughed melodiously, drawing her feet off the floor and extending her legs from the booth in to the aisle for him to 'admire.' "An they're smart lookin in all. Maybe I've found a new callin, aye?"

He smiled at the makeshift shoes and nodded trying to be as serious as possible. “I think you’ve gone and found a new profession for ya self. You can leave the medical field and go into making shoes.” He sipped his drink and set it down watching her curiously

Her feet safely stowed in their proper place upon the floor, she added coyly, "An I'm pleased te impress ye. I always do me best te entertain handsome blonde lifesavers when I have the good fortune o'meetin them. 'Specially the kind with cute accents."

Her words drew a smile and leaned over the table top slightly to extend his hand to her. “Jack Bowler.”

[Tatum MacNamara]

“Some would question whether I work or not."

Tatum shook her head in slight disbelief, "I dinna think fer a second that yer bein honest there. Ye have the look o'a lad who likes what he does."

The words might have seemed like an empty compliment, but they were not. Years lived amongst gadabouts and aimless wanderers who cared nothing for what they did or who they touched or hurt had given her a sixth sense about people, a sort of pricking of the senses when a charlatan or wolf in sheep's clothing appeared. It was a survival technique more than anything, but it did have its other uses.

“Guessing by the green robe that is. Not many would be brave enough to make such a fashion statement ‘round these parts.”

Looking down at her robes, the Irish witch gave a melodious laugh, plucking at the fabric with her slender fingers.

"Ye dinna think so? They told me this was what all the lasses were wearin' in Milan this year." After a playful wink, she nodded, "But aye, I do work at Mungo's. First floor."

And then slowly she leaned closer over the table, as if she meant to tell him some very dark secret that was never meant to be spoken aloud. "But just until me shoe business takes off." Putting her finger to her lips, she pretended to ask for his secrecy on this clandestine matter,.

Still bent slightly over the table, she extended her hand,"Tatum MacNamara. Pleased te meet ye."

The waiter approached the table once more, asking if she wanted a drink.

"I dinna know if I'm stayin' or not." She turned expectantly to her new acquaintance. "Ye looked pretty interested in the Prophet. I dinna want te intrude."

[Jack Bowler]

Tatum shook her head in slight disbelief, "I dinna think fer a second that yer bein honest there. Ye have the look o'a lad who likes what he does."

And he did. Though that much was probably predictable if he were ever to simply talk about it. Jack had an obsessive quality about his work when he was involved in it. If a patient came in and he wasn’t sure what the problem was he would stay until it was figured out. Long hours had been spent in the library researching rare ailments and strange symptoms. But even in the early hours of the morning when he could barely see straight from lack of sleep he would never complain. He loved what he did.

"Ye dinna think so? They told me this was what all the lasses were wearin' in Milan this year." After a playful wink, she nodded, "But aye, I do work at Mungo's. First floor."

“Can’t say I’ve see ya ‘round those parts,” he admitted. “But I don’t wander the first floor too often unless I have a reason.” Truthfully he was usually much to busy. “I’m on the fourth myself.”

A small smile graced his features as she leaned on the table closer to him whispering. Her words struck a nerve in him and he laughed aloud nodding his head as he raised his glass to toast her idea. “I ‘spect ya will do well in such a glorious venture.” He shook her hand taking note of her name for future reference.

"I dinna know if I'm stayin' or not." She turned expectantly to her new acquaintance. "Ye looked pretty interested in the Prophet. I dinna want te intrude."

Jack glanced up at the waiter and nodded politely looking towards her. “I’m not about to toss you off the bench m’lady.”

[Tatum MacNamara]

It didn't surprise Tatum that Jack had never seen her before. She didn't frequent The Bar the way most of her colleagues did, usually opting for more seedy sorts of places that reminded her of the pubs from home. Odd as it was, she didn't find herself homesick for her village, for the home she had grown up in landside, or even for her family. What she missed was the communal feeling of the local tavern, the place you didn't have to put on airs. Places like the one she sat in made her feel like a stranger in a strange land despite the fact she had resided in London for the better part of five years.

"I work later shifts a lot," she explained. "I've had the chance te switch shifts but I like te get off at 11 an head over te the pub." Her eyes darted slightly before she added, "Jus not this one."

“I’m not about to toss you off the bench m’lady.”

Tatum laughed at the southern gentleman, "Well in that case I'll have a martini. Dirty."

Once her Anglophied drink had been ordered and the waiter had gone on his way, she looked back to Jack with a sly smirk. "It's a good think, ye know, that ye were ni plannin any tossin. I'm meaner than I look. An I would ni want te hurt ye."

Giving him a wink she crossed her legs under the table, her smirk shifting to a full smile.

"So ye sound American, how long have ye been in the UK?"

[Jack Bowler]

Glasses clinked behind Jack as he sat across from her listening to her talk. The waiter had returned from the back kitchen carrying a large plastic box of sorts. Inside the various spaces of it were cleaned glasses. He set the box down on the bar top and began loading the glasses back on the rack hanging over his head in preparation for another rush of business before the night was over. It always seemed to come in waves here. And right now it was rather quiet.

"I work later shifts a lot," she explained. "I've had the chance te switch shifts but I like te get off at 11 an head over te the pub." Her eyes darted slightly before she added, "Jus not this one."

He nodded. “I see,” he said. “Is there something to this particular place you don’t like?” he asked. Jack wasn’t much of a drinker after having a past history of it mixed in with his family. The effects of it left memories imbedded in his mind from when he was younger.

Tatum laughed at the southern gentleman, "Well in that case I'll have a martini. Dirty."

The waiter returned later with the drink and set it down politely setting a glass of water down for Jack as well. He thanked the man and picked it up taking a drink of it in an attempt to dilute out the single drink he’d had.

"So ye sound American, how long have ye been in the UK?"

“Almost a year,” he replied setting the glass down following a drink of it. “Alabama originally.”

[Tatum MacNamara]

Tatum's eyes moved slowly over the pub after Jack voiced his question, pondering the answe herself. What was it about this place that turned her off? It was hard to put into words, but she just felt ill at ease in its surroundings. That was an odd conculsion, to be certain, as most people would find the places she did frequent to be unsettling and not the other way around.

"I canna say fer certain. Maybe it's havin all me colleagues around. Feels more like work than anythin elses."

There was a large amount of truth in at least half of what she said. Most of the discomfort was caused by the presence of co-workers, but nothing about the place reminded her of work. The trouble was the usual sort that surfaced with her, that uneasiness she had about growing close to anyone, an uneasiness that she was now holding very deep within her so that Jack Bowler would be none the wiser that secretly she was on edge, afraid to say too much.

Tatum smiled as he revealed whereabouts in America he was from. "Well, I could smile an nod and pretend that I ken exactly where that is on a map, but I dinna." She sipped her drink and then laughed lightly, "But I imagine ye dinna ken where Bantry Bay is. That's where I'm from. So we're even."

{ick so short . . . i'll get better next round}

[Jack Bowler]

Jack’s gaze remained focused on her for a few minutes as she looked around the room. Was the question really that hard to answer?

"I canna say fer certain. Maybe it's havin all me colleagues around. Feels more like work than anythin elses."

“Maybe,” he said thoughtfully. The bar had never caused any ill feelings in him. Jack had wandered in one day when it was raining. He’d forgotten his umbrella back at his flat and had needed to duck out of the downpour for a few minutes. Ever since then he’d stop by once a week or so for something to eat. He’d hit it off with the owner.

"Well, I could smile an nod and pretend that I ken exactly where that is on a map, but I dinna." She sipped her drink and then laughed lightly, "But I imagine ye dinna ken where Bantry Bay is. That's where I'm from. So we're even."

“I’d say we’re even,” he said nodding. He took a drink of his water and looked back to her, giving her a small smile. “Because I have absolutely no clue where Bantry Bay is.”

[Tatum MacNamara]

Tatum smiled over the rim of her glass as she took another sip of her martini. "Well, it's good te be even. Better than bein at odds."

So it was a stupid pun. Even she knew that. But she was trying to get a read of the good doctor across from her, and one bad joke spoke volumes. Was he the sort to fake a laugh for pity's sake? Sneer with disapproval? She could guess, perhaps, but there was no way to be sure without the attempt.

Her eyes searched his for a moment before she came up with a question.

"I dinna think there were wizardin hospitals in the States, did ye work at a Muggle hospital befer?"

There was a reason for her question, a promise of something perhaps twinkling in her eyes, but to what it might be that placed it there, she gave no sign beyond another sip.

{ok i lied, another short post, but stick with me . . . i do have a bit of plot in mind *wags brows*}

[Jack Bowler]

Tatum smiled over the rim of her glass as she took another sip of her martini. "Well, it's good te be even. Better than bein at odds."

Jack smiled. “True but even still,” he said taking a drink of his water. “Even two odds eventually become even.” He grinned. “When you add them up that is.” One bad joke deserved another. It should be noted that Jack had the tendency of saying the wrong thing at exactly the right moment. It was a talent.

When the server came back offering him a selection from the dessert tray, Jack cracked. He ordered a slice of the cherry pie politely and turned back to her.

"I dinna think there were wizardin hospitals in the States, did ye work at a Muggle hospital befer?"

”There’s none I’m afraid,” he replied. “I studied at a wizarding school in America and then went on to medical school and the like there. Once it was done I spent a few years working in the ER of a local hospital in Birmingham before I finally ended up out here.”

He sipped his water. “It’s been a severe change of pace.”

(Your'e stuck with me. Don't worry.)