Coffe and the paper (open)

[Draven Lestat Bloodworth]

It was very early that Sunday morning. Draven couldn’t help, but sigh as he stepped out of the fireplace into the small café’. Although, you traveling through fire, it was actually rather chilly in there, and the warmth of the place almost caressed him. It was deffenetly a reliefe to him, but he was content with using the floo network to get from place to place. He had his licence to apperate, but never exactly like to do it. He always had so much on his mind, and with his luck would end up with a body part landing in every state of the US somehow.
Even though he had only been to Florida once as a young child. Muggles always thought it was a big thing to take their kids to Disney World if they could afford it, for some reason.
This was the last place you would have thought to have seen Draven. Madam Puddifoot’s was always full of couples. Teen couples at that, and Draven was single. Also, Draven was no longer a teen. But in Draven’s opinion, they had some of the best coffee in Britian, and since today was Draven’s only day off, he figured he would stop by there for a cup.

Draven quickly dusted off his brown leather jacket and jeans and continued up to the counter. Because there were a few students already hanging around, Draven assumed that it was Hogsmead weekend, because there were already a few young couples hanging around. Draven ordered the usual; a large moca wakeup, and made his way to an empty table towards the back, his copy of the daily prophet in hand. He knew he’d stick out like a sore thumb here, and half considered leaving and drinking his coffee elsewhere, but since it was in a glass coffe mug, which belonged to the shop, he kind of had no choice but to drink it there.
He couldn’t help but laugh slightly as he read that days “Most Wanted” people, which had a tiny area at the bottom of the page. Of course, Bellatrix Lestraunge and Lord Voldemort glared up at him. He shook his head slightly, wondering exactly where Voldemort had been hiding. He also wondered what it was exactly that made the Ministry, who he had been working for for about a year now – finally decide to adimt to the public that he was back. Draven knew, that these were all questions of which, he would probably never have answers… Alls he knew, was that he needed to find the death eaters in order to get the answers he wanted.

Draven didn’t even care per-say, about what the death eaters were doing. He himself had flaws, and was the last one to talk about mistreating muggles. Draven prayed on Muggle criminals, like an animal in the wild like a tiger preyed on a deer. His step-father would give himm the infromation on a child killer or rapist who got off the hook, and Draven would make that person disappear with a little bit of truth potion and a lot of torture. He’d only actually killed three wizards, but they were supposed to be on their way to azkaban anyway.

Before Draven finally got appointed as an actual auror, his job was to transport the dark wizards to Azkaban. There were three men in particular, whom Draven decided to deal with personally. They had both been convicted of torturing muggle women to death, and so instead of taking them to azkaban, like he was supposed to, Draven took them to their deaths. Unlike them though, in the actual murder, Draven never used magic to actually do the deed. He knew, that that could and would be detected.

Draven continued reading through the paper, as over top his paper, Draven saw a figure coming his way. He quickly put it down and stared up from where he'd been sitting.

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[Lucien Vilette de Séraphin]

An early Sunday morning was by no means the vampire's optimal window of operation, but of course as term was still not yet on break for the holiday, Lucien was still strictly forcing himself to follow the habits of the diurnal inhabitants of the castle. After an hour or two spent grumbling and stumbling through evening morning rituals, the vampire turned his attention to the idle hours of the day.

Sunday was always pleasant in that it was quiet and sleepy and ... well, nobody was ever in any haste to do anything. Lucien supposed he deserved to partake in this habit as well; when he wasn't spending his time being productive for the school (and for the sake of his conscience), he was always looking after Charlotte and company, or attending to Chevalerie business. Correspondence was still maintained even though Lucien was far from home (though not as far as he could have been); at the castle, it was via owl. Luckily that morning he had finished most of his letters to various family members, and, deciding to take the rest with him elsewhere so he might have respite from that droll room he was supposed to call his quarters while in residence at the castle, Lucien had dressed, tucked the letters into that worn journal he always carried with him, and then scooped up the nameless black kitten from the Menagerie, plopping it onto his shoulder on the way out the door.

The walk down to Hogsmeade was blissfully quiet; most of the students visiting the village for the weekend had probably long since departed. The air was cool, crisp; Lucien inhaled slowly, savoring the frigid edge that lingered in his senses with each languid (and voluntary) breath.

Absently he fiddled with his gloves as he walked, the slight heels of his boots clicking with each step down the path. Now and again the kitten on his shoulder tried to reposition itself, and Lucien would in turn sigh, trying to arrange the animal so that it wasn't digging its claws into his frock coat. Just when he would succeed at that, however, the kitten would begin to bat at the vampire's curls, and with a grumble of agitation, Lucien eventually settled for plucking the creature off of his shoulder entirely, instead cradling it in the crook of one arm.

Much better.

Upon arrival at the village, Lucien did not hesitate, heading straight for his family friend's establishment, the quaint little tea salon full of lace and frills and other such seemingly despicable things that, to the vampire, were actually quite appealing. And tea salons themselves were reminiscent of one of the fondest phases of his life. He often recalled the first time he and Emily had visited one whilst visiting grimy old industrial London.

Stepping quietly into the surprisingly almost-full salon, Lucien raised a brow, his pale gaze sweeping the perimeter. Ah, yes, of course. Sunday morning; many tea salons offered brunch or something similar on Sundays. It would explain the crowd.

And on second thought, it might also explain why somebody was sitting in his usual perch.

Lucien's eyes narrowed scrutinizingly but not necessarily with hostility as he peered across the room towards the nonchalant figure seated there, his nose immersed in the latest issue of some paper, probably the Prophet. With a slight 'hmph' to himself, the vampire shrugged and pointedly crossed the room to the table. Without pausing, he calmly pulled out the chair across from the man and then quietly swept the tail of his coat aside as he promptly and gracefully seated himself.

"Typically I would publicly humiliate the one foolish enough to attempt to usurp my usual spot from me, but on account of both the crowd and your audacity, I suppose today, for your sake, I shall refrain." Despite the potential coldness to the vampire's words, there shone in his pale eyes a gently amused gleam, and eventually his displeased expression gave way to a more neutral, goodnatured one.

"Of course, that also means you are now to suffer my company," he pointed out as an afterthought, setting his book down in front of him and pulling out an inkpen and the small stack of letters he had left to finish. He at once resumed scribing his messages whilst waiting for either Abby or her niece so that he could order tea service.

Over his work, Lucien conversationally intoned, "Anything of interest to note today?" in reference to the newspaper the man had been reading.

[Draven Lestat Bloodworth]

It was confirmed, that the footsteps Draven heard were indeed headed right for the table he where he was sitting. Draven was pretty content being alone, but was neither here nor there, about the idea of somebody joining him. He sat his paper down onto the table, and peered up seeing a man now sitting across from him.

Draven gazed at the man, noticing that his hair was rather long. Not many men could pull off long hair very well, but somehow this guy did it pretty well. He assumed that the man was his age; maybe, a few years different. His mind quickly came to the conclusion that the man was a Hogwarts professor enjoying his day off, or maybe even watching after the kids. But Draven couldn’t exactly be sure of this, seeing as many adult witches and wizards passed through here daily. You didn’t have to have any tie to Hogwarts at all to be here.

Draven lazily picked up his mug, and sipped at his coffee. He hadn’t touched it yet, because he knew that it was made fresh, and was steaming hot. He had scolded the top of his mouth while in school once, trying to gulp the brown substance down.

Finally the man spoke, in what Draven thought was a serious tone. Typically I would publicly humiliate the one foolish enough to attempt to usurp my usual spot from me, but on account of both the crowd and your audacity, I suppose today, for your sake, I shall refrain.”

Draven was unsure of how exactly to responde to this, so he gave a small smile. He quickly realized that the man was only joking as his manner became a bit lighter. “"Of course, that also means you are now to suffer my company,"

Draven sat his coffee mug down, and shrugged. The company of another person was never exactly a bad thing in most cases. Draven wasn’t exactly doing anything important. But Draven had always been a bit of a loner, and always on the quiet side…. Draven didn’t think anyone in their right mind would ever accept a monster like him. But then again, Look at The Dark Lord. People worshiped the ground he walked on, even though he had so much blood on his hands, that if this term was literal, he’d be covered up to his elbows. Not that Draven was a saint in this department, but at least all of his victums deserved it…. At least in his eyes that is.

Well, I guess I’ll have to deal with the conciquences then.”

[/b] Draven said jokingly looking from the man back down to his newspaper, which was folded in such a way, that one of Bellatrix Lestrange’s eyes just peered up at him with an evil look in it. It was actually creeping him out a bit. He picked up his coffee mug to take another sip of his coffee, and also as an excuse to cover the creepy woman’s half face.
The man asked next, "Anything of interest to note today?"

Draven looked from the paper, which was now being stamped with the ring of his coffee mug, and back up at the man. Of course nothing “interesting” was being mentioned. ”Is there ever? At least muggle newspapers have comics in them… And yet I continue to get it delivered, and pay faithfully every month.” Draven replied jokingly.

It was usually at this point in a conversation, that people either got bored and turned away, or left altogether. Draven sucked at smalltalk and knew it. He wasn’t really good at these kind of things. Perhaps this is why he had gone on so few dates, and only kept one or two friends that weren’t related to him in some way or another.

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[Lucien Vilette de Séraphin]

As the man set his coffee mug aside, Lucien eyed the brewed drink with a slight wrinkle of his nose. Ugh. Coffee. "I've not the slightest idea as to how anyone can stomach that horrid concoction. It is terribly bitter. Unfortunately for me, one of my sons, a self-proclaimed barista, is absolutely enamored with the stuff." As always, his tone was more conversational than it was dismissive, despite his words. Still, coffee-drinkers seemed to flock to Abby's establishment, so as far as coffee went, she must have served some high-quality brew (or had slipped some form of a mind-control potion into each batch).

When Abby's niece came by to collect his order, Lucien settled for the cream tea with spiced chai. After she brought the tea and teaware over, the vampire thanked her graciously (they were friends through their various family connections of course), pouring himself a cup and taking a sip or two before setting it aside and returning to his letter writing in between chatting with the man and waiting for scones.

As he penned his correspondence to Devereux (England's apothecaries tended to carry certain supplies not found in France, and Devereux often requested Lucien send him certain items whilst in Diagon Alley), Lucien smirked at the man's comments, glancing over at him now and again as they conversed. "Ah, this is true. But muggle newspapers do not have moving photos, now do they?" Though to be perfectly honest, Lucien had never become accustomed to moving pictures in print. It was just ... strange. Visual art was supposed to sit still!

"Well, aside from the usual: dark wizards traipsing all about the UK, so and so controversy at the Ministry, some dead lead on one of the Dark Lord's agents, murders this and drama that ... " Lucien was cut off by a yawn he failed to stifle, though he did try, his clawed fingertips covering his mouth.

Blinking the yawn away, he took another sip of tea before going on. "I must say, however, that more often than not, I am amused not by the content of the articles but by the manner in which the writers express said content." Lucien smiled knowingly to himself, his gaze distant for a moment as he recalled the rebellious pocket uprising of 'free press' during his years in life, when the poor king had been far too kind (and perhaps honest) to quell the radical culture of the salons of the philosophe.

But now he was merely being cryptic, though he did remind himself that he not need keep secrets about his vampirism whilst out and about in the wizarding world; there still existed fear, hatred, and perhaps disgust regarding his 'sort,' but it was to a far lesser degree than the muggle world.

"Alors, monsieur, do you frequent this place often? The owner is a close family friend of mine and I cannot recall ever having spotted you hear before." Lucien smiled slightly. "Though I do hope that, if you are to be visiting this place more often, you might eventually be convinced to 'convert' from coffee to tea instead."

[Draven Lestat Bloodworth]

Draven couldn’t help but give a small smile as the other man said, "I've not the slightest idea as to how anyone can stomach that horrid concoction. It is terribly bitter. Unfortunately for me, one of my sons, a self-proclaimed barista, is absolutely enamored with the stuff."

The man was right. Coffee was incredibly bitter, and the only way
Draven could really drink it, was with a lot of cream and sugar. His step father drank it black most of the time. Most convenience stores offered it free to muggle police officers. They usually came in a bit of a rush, and would just fill up a paper cup, walk up to the counter, and be on their way. Draven knew this routine all too well, from the many summers of working in the muggle convenience store on the corner by their home. All of the cops frequented it, and that was what made it so easy for Draven to get a summer job there.
He looked back at his new acquaintance, and down at the cup of coffee. This man seemed alright, but Draven still hadn’t caught his name. He watched as a young waitress came, and the man told her his order. Draven had never actually tried the tea here. Usually,

Draven was merely passing through on business, and didn’t really have time to sit and relax like today. But presumably from force of habit, Draven had just ordered the normal. He didn’t really need to be awake and alert. It was a Sunday; his day off. He usually spent this day alone in his apartment in Muggle London, but today decided he needed to actually do something other than plot and scheme on how to catch his next victim.

This was just a lazy Sunday of reading the paper and drinking coffee. The man replied to his statement about the Muggle newspapers. ”Ah this is true. But Muggle newspapers don’t have moving photos now do they?”

Although, Draven had grown up in the Muggle world, the moving photos had never really fazed him. The ones in Hogwarts spoke, and that was pretty cool. But even those seemed to lose their novelty after a while. ”Yes, that’s true… But what good is a movie without sound?” Draven replied jokingly.
"I must say, however, that more often than not, I am amused not by the content of the articles but by the manner in which the writers express said content." The man had said.

This was an interesting thought in Draven’s opinion. A newspaper author’s job was to put as much feeling as he could into his writing, but always did in such a way, that you knew, he or she really didn’t understand the situations that the people they were writing about were going through. Draven still remembered going through old records in the library near his home, and found the one about his mother. It had said, ”London woman murdered in front of her two young children”. Draven remembered thinking that whoever wrote this had never even lost a family member or anyone close. But then again…

[/color]”This is true… But how exactly do you going about wording some of these things? Especially, if you haven’t really been through it yourself?”

Draven sighed, and finished up his coffee. His throat sort of felt dry, like it always does after one drinks coffee or something warm. When the waitress came back by, he asked her for a cup of sweet iced tea with lemon.

The man said, "Alors, monsieur, do you frequent this place often? The owner is a close family friend of mine and I cannot recall ever having spotted you hear before." "Alors, monsieur, do you frequent this place often? The owner is a close family friend of mine and I cannot recall ever having spotted you hear before." The man had mentioned, before saying, "Though I do hope that, if you are to be visiting this place more often, you might eventually be convinced to 'convert' from coffee to tea instead."

Draven gave a small nod, and looked at the man. ”I try to stop every so often, when I’m passing through for work. This is such a relaxing little shop, and the people are always so friendly… A very nice stop, when dealing with the crap, that’s included with working for the ministry.” Draven said, before he paid for and thanked the waitress for his tea. ”I’ll Have to give the hot tea a try sometime. It does smell nice.” He added.

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