April 25th, 1895 - 3BS
after this

If Eugene never saw another pixie in his life, he would be a happy camper. After spending hours getting that debacle handled and every pixie expelled from the ministry, Eugene wasn't sure the intern responsible deserved to be fired, but he highly doubted they would make it in his department long term. Of course that wasn't up to him, it was up to Adlard, but he'd certainly have something to say about it.

Feeling guilty about missing dinner and subsequently bedtime, Eugene didn't have the heart to ask the staff to make him a late dinner, so he'd stopped round the pub for something quick to eat. He was walking heavily on his cane as he entered the Broomsticks, hip aching after being up and moving around the ministry for an extended period of time this afternoon. Happy Friday after all. After settling himself into one of the few free tables, Eugene requested a double of firewhiskey and whatever was available for dinner. He wasn't picky. He straightened out his bad leg, trying to stretch out the sore muscles, thinking he ought to check in with Miss Owens about her progress making something for his aches and pains. He was far too young to feel quite this old.

His drink arrived first and Eugene had barely gotten it off the table to take a sip when the whole thing went toppling sideways. Startled, he withdrew his legs immediately and regretted the quick movement, hissing out an unmistakable noise of pain. What was this day, anyway? His patience were paper thin at this point in time, but considering he was still in his ministry robes from work, he sucked in a deep breath. "Everything alright there?" He asked, voice tight. At least he'd saved his drink. That would have been a true travesty.

---

  

---

There was nothing more Percy wanted than to head home after this nightmare of a day. Truly. Yet he'd promised Quin and Mason to catch up this evening and so he'd dragged his tired person into the Broomsticks not wanting to deal with the teasing the boys (or his wife) would give him in he begged off. But really, how was he supposed to be in a sociable mood when he'd just had to clean up a pixie infestation (nasty creatures) and fire an intern?

Walking into the pub, his whole body aching, his cane tapping on the floor Percy made his way to the counter. Only to hear an insult directed his way. Percy glanced around. No one was talking to him. Honeyduke and Skeeter weren't evidently here yet. Which left.... Percy shrugged it off.

That ought to have been the end of it. But as things happen when one is having a terrible, no good, very bad day, it was not.

Something tugged on his cane then the tail of his jacket, sending him off balance to stumble blindly backwards - right into a table. Just as Percy hit the table, sending it wobbling he fell, head hitting the wooden edge of the table as he went down. And there it was. The bloody pixie! Hovering right in front of his face. The bloody git must have hidden in the folds of his clothes after he left the ministry. Percy growled and swung for the pint sized demon from his spot on the floor - which, retrospectively, was the least effective way to go about the thing, achieving absolutely nothing. Someone was talking to him though, "Pixie." He growled.

  

---

Pretties from Lady <3

The last person Eugene had expected to find at the Broomsticks was his boss. Adlard was easy enough to work with, but after they day they'd had, he had thought Adlard would have just gone straight home. Apparently today's misadventures were not over. Not only was his table sent flying (thankfully he'd saved his drink) but a pixie had somehow managed to follow his supervisor to the pub.

"Oh for fuck's sake." Eugene mumbled under his breath, trying, with one hand, to retrieve his wand from his robes. The pixie was floating nearby, face twisted into something of a gleeful sneer, which sent Eugene's teeth on edge. Pesky little pests they were. Once he finally managed to free his wand, Eugene shot a mild stunning spell at it, but it skillfully dodged and took off toward another part of the pub. All Eugene wound up achieving was upending an empty chair nearby. "I do not have the patience for this." He muttered as he kept a weather eye on the pixie's whereabouts.

"Are you alright sir?" Eugene really wasn't in much of a place to help Adlard up, but he had to at least try.

---

  

---

Bloody hell. Of course it was Scamander. A good lad and a good employee, and likely the best possible person to encounter at the moment - but also the absolute worst. The lad's spell missed the pixie, a chair lurching over instead and drawing even more gaze their way. Shit. He did not need the attention right now.

The man above him muttered as he looked at what happened and Percy found himself echoing the sentiment. "You and me both." He agreed under his breath before shifting to try and lift himself off the floor.

And then, of course, the lad decided to help him. Percy waved him away, turning to his side to get his knees under him. His head ached, his body ached, and his knee would not cooperate, but none of that truly mattered as there was a problem to solve. "Nothing hurt but my pride." He lied, maneuvering roughly to a chair edge and getting at least his good leg beneath him. Merlin's beard this was excruciatingly embarrassing. "Did you see where the bastard got to?" He'd be on his feet soon enough to pursue - or at least he hoped so.

  

---

Pretties from Lady <3

Weren't they a pair? The two of them leaning on canes like old men; it was a wonder they ever even got new recruits into the department when the two of them came limping along. Maybe Eugene was being a little too uncharitable, but he was exhausted and grumpy and he really, really want to hex that pixie out of existence.

"It's over there," he motioned to the end of the bar, where the pixie sat on a stool as if it could order a pint and enjoy the evening. "It'll have to wait until I can get over there," Eugene was in no rush to move, even as he used his wand to right the table and chairs he'd knocked over. "If we're lucky somebody will sit on it and squish it." Wouldn't that be some form of poetic justice?

---

  

---