July 15th, 1889 — Three Broomsticks

Bragi sat with his cat in a corner of the Three Broomsticks, eyeing a golden glass of firewhisky with a kind of resentful curiosity. As for his furry companion, a feline by the name of Maid Marian, she’d followed her young master to the pub that evening, perhaps able to sense that he was feeling out of sorts. She sat on a chair opposite him, kneading the thin seat cushion with her paws.

The otherwise solitary Mr Holm took another brief glance around the pub. It was a Monday evening, hardly busy, but many of his fellow clientele were… well, they were happy couples, weren’t they. Young ladies and gentlemen smiling over butterbeer, with chaperones and without, one couple reading today’s Prophet together, another sharing a kidney pie. Marian purred. ”It’s alright for you”, he muttered. ”You already have a whole litter of kittens.”

It wasn’t that Bragi was lonely exactly, he was just… confused. He knew he should aspire to be one of these young gentlemen doting over a bonnie lady friend, but he didn’t relate to that aspiration at all. When he tried to set his mind to it, he got flashes of dark brows and crooked smiles, rugged jawlines and powerful arms. These weren’t feminine features at all.

For the first time in his life, the elfin Dane finally took a sip of firewhisky. He pulled a face at Marian, resolutely unimpressed by the taste.

Bragi took another sip.

  

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Not that he wanted to take advantage of the lad for money. (Except that he absolutely did.) And it wasn't that Trevor had gotten a very strong gay vibe from him. (Except that he really, really had.) It was just a friendly attempt to strike up a conversation. (Except that, no, it was an attempt to take advantage of a closeted gay man for money.) Well, as long as Trevor was honest with himself. He had needs -- food, for instance -- and this young man looked like he had money.

"That's a beautiful cat," he said as he approached to stand next to the table, holding his very own glass of firewhiskey. Trevor loved the stuff. "You look like you might want some human conversation too, though. May I?"

  

Bragi hadn't expected anyone to come up and join him, but he realised it was probably what he wanted — after all, if he just wanted to be alone wouldn't he have stayed at home?

So he managed a smile for the approaching fellow, though was slightly startled by his confidence and candour, not to mention his... shall we say worldly presentation.

”Oh, thank you”, he breathed, shooting Marian an affectionate glance. ”Her name’s Marian. And mine is Bragi Holm. You are very welcome to join us", he added, trying to sound warm despite feeling quite out of place.

  

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That smile was adorable, and Trevor returned it with one of his own. Mirroring. It was a pretty good trick. Give them back what they give you. It makes them feel like you're more connected than you actually are. Plus, Trevor happened to have a very handsome smile. Sure, the veela blood only worked on females, but it had also made him just straight-up overall attractive. So it was great to work with.

"Thank you, Mr. Holm," Trevor said, taking a seat across from him and next to the cat. He held his hand out for her to sniff. "My name is Daniel Smith. I really enjoy this place. Do you come here often?"

  

Bragi gave a tiny nod of approval at the manner in which Mr Smith introduced himself to Maid Marian. He didn't just go in for a stroke — he offered his hand for a sniff. Marian responded the best way a cat knew how; she sniffed his hand and then promptly ignored him. Bragi smiled slightly.

"Nice to meet you", Bragi replied politely. "I suppose I come here often, Mr Smith. But I am still quite new. New to the country, in fact. I'm from Denmark."

Something about the young man made him feel a little uncomfortable — and it was not the man himself, but the way some of the other patrons regarded him. It was difficult for him not to notice. And thus, with more than a small degree of guilt, it was with some relief that he caught sight of his business acquaintance Mr Wilson, who beckoned him over with a smile.

"Oh, do excuse me — I've just seen a familiar friend", he excused himself. "I hope we meet again, Mr Smith." And with a final, brief smile, Bragi scooped up his cat and made his way over to Mr Wilson — who barely lowered his voice in explaining that he was best steering well clear of "that sort".

Whatever that meant.

-fade out-

  

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