Irvingly was not typically a place Angie had frequented, but she'd been directed by her supervisor to pick up an remnant of the ridiculous fog from a few years back. Some artifact some idiot decided to keep that was causing people in his home to hallucinate and he finally just connected the pieces. Who better than to go pick up some potentially dangerous item than Angie?

Ugh, men,

She was waiting for the man at the Irvingly Arms, as indicated, an ale in front of her as she sat at the bar, feeling a little surly and hoping like hell (Cash permitting) that she would be off on assignment sooner rather than later. She felt bad, because she did enjoy the few people she knew around this part of the world, but she was gone longer and longer each time she left. The world called to her and there was so little to tie her here that she felt the few strings that connected her to Hogsmeade fraying.

She wasn't expecting her thoughts to be interrupted by an unfamiliar voice, with what could be considered an inflammatory approach. "I can end them too, got a particular need?" She eyed he man carefully and realized he wasn't entirely new to her, but couldn't put a finger on how either.