30th August, 1888 — The Destiny Hotel

Since it had been handed to him Enoch had found no need to glance at the pocket watch about his person: either it was faulty or, much more likely, he had done precisely what his hostess thought he ought to be doing in the pursuit of true love. Or at least in the pursuit of contentment in marriage, which was a much more elusive goal as far as he was concerned. He loved his sister, he respected his mother. That was more than enough giving of his admiration in his book and he had long since decided his wife need only look the part and come with an excellent name.

If she had money too that would be a boon, but he found the thought of a little gratitude more than appealing...

"Well hello," he muttered to himself as he pulled the pocket watch out and raised at eyebrow at it in bemusement. It was practically screaming at him, though no one else seemed able to hear it, and he glanced around, assuming his dance with Miss Fawley was now not to be. Glancing around, gin sling in hand - Merlin it was fucking disgusting - he looked for the likely candidate.

  

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When she'd accepted Dolly's invitation to this giant shindig, Febby had been coming off their last huge argument and making some major mistakes. That was all resolved though so now she was questioning why she hadn't backed out (other than it being incredibly rude!); she was engaged for crying out loud, matchmaking was useless. Not that anybody knew that of course, but still. Thankfully Lena and Begonia were here, her friends having gotten ready at her home earlier was so far the highlight of the evening. Suprisingly, Edric was lurking around somewhere too, though she wasn't sure why he'd subjected himself to this when he'd made his feelings on the subject very clear. And while she wasn't sure exactly what he was doing, she kept making eyes at him when she could, but so far they hadn't managed to actually spend a moment together. Ah well, she'd make time sooner rather than later. Apparently the wench from Witch Weekly already thought there was something between them.  

So far the cocktail hour had served little purpose other than to gently agitate her; it was to fill her adorable little dance card that Febs had no intention of following through with. Except it was rather persistent in reminding her she was supposed to be doing something other than loitering around, trying to find her friends or her love. Dinner had been a little more amusing, Mr Byrne was quite the bundle of energy and chatty enough to keep her entertained during the meal. Now with all of that over, she supposed she should stop skulking around and maybe take a spin around the dance floor just for laughs.

Febs sipped idly on a glass of champagne, and not for the first time that evening, wishing it was whiskey.  She wondered if she could get her hands on one by the night's end... In fact she might go see if she could make that happen soon too. As soon as she excused herself from her present company, Febby drained the remaining sip of her champagne only to find herself face-to-face with a familiar visage- if only from the Prophet. "Mr. Rosier, excuse me." Febs smiled slowly, ready to let him by so she could continue her quest for something stronger. "What's that you have there?" She inquired after noticing his drink- honestly anything with more body than champagne would do right about now.

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After countless years attending such events Enoch had developed a quick, shorthand way of assessing the many young ladies he interacted with. Almost all of them fell short in some form or another, leaving him jaded as to ever finding a young woman who truly appealed but this one certainly passed the initial test: she was deeply pleasing to the eye, if a tad tall. Which, he quickly decided, he wasn’t entirely against given that it precluded him from having to bend his head quite so dramatically.

Did he know this one? He didn’t think so – and if he did then he certainly didn’t recall her name – but that was of no consequence: what were these events for if not to become acquainted with new people? They certainly weren’t for the food, which had been passable at best, or the quality of the alcohol which was giving his tongue a strange coating he could do without. Why couldn’t these women just serve spirits and have done with it?

“A gin sling, I believe it was called,” he answered with a wrinkle of his nose as he held up the drink that had been thrust into his hand without his asking for it fifteen minutes ago. “I wouldn’t recommend it though. It tastes as though they’ve mixed together the first half dozen things they could see and called it a drink.”

With a final grimace he placed the glass on the tray of a passing waiter, glad to see the back of it, and turned his attention back to the young woman.

“I could do with a brandy but I shall be patient if you’d like to dance Miss? Unless I can tempt you towards strong spirits but I find young ladies are usually more cautious than I,” he said with a playful grin, waiting for her to lead their apparently enforced moments together.

The following 1 user Likes Enoch Rosier's post:1 user Likes Enoch Rosier's post
   February Umbridge

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Wrinkling her nose at Mr. Rosier's answer, Febby rather thought it did sound gross. Gin was one of those liquors she'd only tried once before and it had been absolutely terrible. Who made booze from poisonous berries anyway? She chuckled as he set the offending drink on a passing tray. "Oh yes, I think I can stand to pass on that- and the dance if you don't mind." The following smile was nothing but charming  however, to signal she didn't mean anything by it.

"A brandy, whiskey, I think I could even go for a scotch at this point. Anything stronger than that champagne." Febs admitted with a little quirk of her eyebrow, setting her own empty flute on a nearby table. She was trying to behave herself, knowing Edric was lurking somewhere, but she wasn't going to stop being herself simply because he was around. Flirting was something that came a little too naturally to her, even when she as being particularly mindful of it. Then again, the last thing she would want to do was have anybody get their knickers in a twist or have Mr. Rosier hear about it later somehow.

Honestly though, Febs was not above using a little light, feminine manipulation to get what she wanted. "Have you some secret inside knowledge you'd be willing to share?" She whispered conspiratorially, leaning toward him ever-so-slightly.  

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A young lady who knew her way around a drink’s cabinet – would wonders never cease!? Most young ladies only imbibed whiskey when it was thrust upon them in the name of curing shock and, other than Connolly who didn’t count, he didn’t recall ever hearing a woman mention scotch. Even his sister, of whom he would appoint the lofty title of being the finest woman he knew, didn’t touch anything one could even charitably call a decent drink.

“I’m always happy to share with a fellow connoisseur,” he replied with a charming grin, glancing over her shoulder and his in quick succession to make sure they weren’t about to be accosted by some interfering chaperone that would turn a perfectly pleasant distraction into something far more tedious. “And between the two of us I’m sure we can find something suitable. Mrs Diggory might have organised this affair for the pursuit of love but hopefully this Valentine woman foresaw that some of us prefer better libation.”

  

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Indecently attractive set by MJ

As she eyed him carefully, Febs' lips curled into more of a sly grin. "A partner in crime as it were, sounds delightful." He was likely right, between the two of them, they could track something decent down. Febby was well aware of where the bar was, but she really wasn't in the mood for the looks she would likely get, or even the possible refusal altogether, if she were to order a measure of whiskey for herself. Mr. Rosier however, would come in quite handy for avoiding that, if she were lucky.

"The bar on the far side is fully stocked, that much I do know." Dolly did not do anything half-assed, especially events, so there was plenty to go along. "However, I am not so sure they will be quite as amenable to my request as you are." She glanced at the bar with another smirk. It was highly unlikely she'd get anything but disapproval if she went up herself and so Febby quirked an eyebrow at him, curious to see if he was willing to play along.

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It was on the tip of his tongue to comment that was how it ought to be, but he stopped himself – he had no particular interest in this young lady, charming though she seemed to be, beyond keeping her company for the time it took him to recover from his last encounter with that woman and feel ready for the next skirt Miss Valentine was going to direct him towards. The life of a bachelor… He had no intention of inciting another young woman into hating him and having to defend his position, really and truly he just wanted a drink and his need was far more important for the time being than his belief that women, unless they were whores or not much better, had no business being near a bar.

“Then I shall have to be the go-between for you,” he offered her his arm, noting as he did that more than one person was looking in their direction. Curious. It wasn’t so very extraordinary for him to be speaking to her was it? Or was it?

“You have me at a disadvantage Miss, I insist on knowing the identity of all my drinking partners.”

Dear Merlin, she wasn’t notorious he hoped – the last thing he needed was to be seen with a jade after escaping the shrew.

  

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Indecently attractive set by MJ

Delighted he decided to play along, Febs took his arm gently, chuckling quietly. "I must confess, I recognized you from your unfortunate Prophet article this summer." Not to mention he worked for Edric. "I do hope you're recovered." She added more sincerely. That damn fog. Ugh.

His request for her own name was met with a coy smile. Did she give it to him knowing that she carried around a degree of notoriety these days? Did she really care? That was more important question. Febs was decidedly in the no camp on that. It was either going to get her nowhere on the whiskey front, which was fine, she'd figure that out. If she pestered Nate enough, he'd cave eventually if only to get her stop nagging. Bless him.

"It's February Lynch." She supplied with a bit of a wry smile. He'd have been a hermit not to have at least heard her name in passing, considering at the beginning of the summer she'd had her own feature in the Prophet in junction with his boss. Now she was innately curious to see his reaction however, so eyed him with a quirked eyebrow to wait for it.

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That name meant precious little to him, though had there not been another Lynch girl, younger than this one, that he had danced with at the Hogwarts Coming Out Ball? It was hardly the most uncommon name of course, and the girl had not stuck in his mind much beyond the duration of the dance itself, but- Wait. He barked out a laugh as he recalled the name, the reason he knew it, and why this young woman had unwittingly been a great source of entertainment to him over the last few months.

This was Umbridge’s piece. Or at least it was according to the Prophet, Witch Weekly and, his sister told him, the most reliable word about town.

“Ahhhh,” he let out, unable to stop himself from chuckling. “I wasn’t as quick as you were, but I can return the favour of recognition. I work with a certain gentleman you see…”

He refused to say for.

  

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Febs pursed her lips, preventing a smirk and quirked an eyebrow. She had no idea what, or if his coworkers thought of her, but she was not about to play into that right about now. "Now now, you mustn't be so hard on yourself." She teased lightly when he said he hadn't been as quick. She was trying not to have any notoriety attached to her name, but clearly that was working.

"You can make it up to me by helping me with that drink." She added with a sly grin, casually laying a hand on his arm and motioning toward the bar. She was curious to see if he had anything else to say on their common "gentleman" but thought better of mentioning it herself. If he had something to say, she was sure he would.

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