Old Haunts (Open!)

[Charlemagne Galissard]

The dim and smoky atmosphere of the bar may have hindered the average bar-goer, but it provided ideal visual circumstances for Charlie, whose eyesight in the dark and unclear was as perfect as the average human's in the bright and crisp. He took a breath, all movement suspended except for the very slight motion of his hand that propelled the pool cue forward. It made contact with the pearly white surface of the cue ball, blemishing it very slightly with chalk, but it was hardly noticeable as it instantly began spinning energetically towards its corresponding black ball, the rolling sound muted by the smooth felt surface of the table. With a satisfying click they made contact, and sent the eight-ball whisking to the nearest pocket. He stood at full height, rather than how he was leaning over the table moments ago, in time to watch it sink. He walked toward the end of the table where his competitor already had a handful of gold waiting. "Better luck next time," Charlie drawled in the most insincere way he could manage, shoving the pool cue into the other's chest and continuing past him.

Charlie counted the coins to confirm he did not get ripped off before pocketing them as he walked through the crowd. He was not fond of the masses of people that were here; he would have preferred the Hog's Head to stay on the down low a little easier, but they did not offer nearly the same level of entertainment and Charlie could not stay away from the draw of games like pool. And it was so easy for him to lose track of time, not just during a given day, but during the year; day and night merged in his head, and in the woods they paid no attention to the dates or the seasons. Thus, it had totally slipped his mind that the school year had already begun, and that the already-crowded Three Broomsticks may be even more packed with students. He wasn't sure how early the Hogsmeade weekends occurred in the year nowadays, and surely there were students like the one he had been, who would not have cared when they were and just gone whenever he felt like.

Even if he remembered, Charlie probably would not have been able to resist anyway. In some ways it was like nothing had ever changed - sneaking into Hogsmeade to gamble and drink and have fun. All these years later and he still walked in as if he belonged there. To them, he did, he was just any other customer, but only because they did not know of what was under his sleeve and what was in his blood. He planned to keep it that way. "Simison Steaming Stout," he said to the bartender once he reached it. Perhaps he would return to billiards in a minute, if someone challenged him, or if he got bored, but for now, he could use a drink.

[Sven Zalenski]

Now that the school year had started back up again, Sven's interest in the wizarding village of Hogsmeade had once again peaked. His business was doing just fine and all his meetings and appointments were out of the way, so Sven had the time to do as he pleased, which right now was visit the village. He had other career interests, and of course, all the time in the world to pursue them, but there had been one thing that wouldn't stop snagging him for a while. He wasn't sure what it was, but he was quite drawn to the idea of teaching at the moment - perhaps not in the sense of a professor in a class room, but he'd been working on his legilimency skills and experimentation for so long now that he was feeling inclined to try to teach those skills and share his knowledge. 

The question was, to what age? Should be aim for students? Graduates? Older adults? Would one age be more appropriate than another? Sven figured there would be people in most groups who had the correct mentality to learn, and he was interested in finding an interested party from each, if he could, to get the experience and find out what/who really did learn best. For students, though, there was no better place to find them than Hogwarts.  And while Sven couldn't just walk into Hogwarts, Hogsmeade was close, and there were always some students who ignored the school rules and left anyway. The sneak-outs perhaps weren't the best options for teaching to, but they would give him a better understanding of the age group. Admittedly, his experience with teens and young adults had been lacking recently. 

Sven didn't entirely expect to find students sneaking out quite so early in the school year, but he felt it was necessary to reacquaint himself with the village, and of course, with The Three Broomsticks. He'd make regular trips back here at different times to see who he came across, but for now, he just wanted to get a feel for the place again.

Slipping through the doors, Sven could see that there were already a decent number of patrons in the rather smokey bar. It took barely a second for his eyes to readjust to the lighting in the room - an advantage to being a vampire, of course. Sven headed straight towards the bar, casting a glance around to take in the faces in the room. As he reached the bar he noticed that the same bartender was working there who was there the last times Sven had been there, which, admittedly, had only been a couple of years ago. The bartender looked up as he approached and recognition seemed to spark in their eyes. With a nod, they turned to fetched his drink. It was nice to be remembered. With his drink in hand, Sven turned to survey the room, paying little attention to those closest to him at the bar.

[Charlemagne Galissard]

Visually, physically, hardly anything had changed. The Three Broomsticks maintained its perpetually smoky and dim atmosphere, always bustling with people, some regulars, some visitors, the bar a little grungy but not enough to be disgusted. It was a bar atmosphere, it was all too familiar to Charlie, even all these years after he'd last set foot in it. Hell, even he himself hadn't changed much physically, which could be a problem but it had been so long, he would be shocked for anyone to recognize him. Even many of the regulars had changed since he'd been schooling age - died, or moved, or gotten bored, and new ones had taken their place. He was fairly certain the bartender was a different one - at the very least, Charlie didn't remember his face, and he made no indication that he recognized Charlie's, which was exactly what he'd been hoping for. 

Charlie silently accepted the drink when it was given to him moments later, eyes constantly moving around the bar, evaluating the people there. Despite the familiarity, being back put him on edge - the crowd was different than what he was used to, and he didn't trust it. With good reason. Anyone could be like him - an average bargoer by appearance, drinking and having fun and whatnot - but with secrets. Ill intentions. He lifted the steaming cup to his lips, the warm liquid burning his throat satisfyingly. He no longer dealt with cold drinks, which limited his choices immensely when he was out. He was perpetually cold, he needed warmth; Firewhiskey or a Steaming Stout was an acceptable temporary substitute for blood, which was the ultimate source of internal warmth. But it wasn't an option right now. So the drink would have to do.

As the level of liquid in his mug lowered, he continued his untrusting survey of the room, eyes darting suspiciously to a new figure who stood beside him. The nearer they stood, the less trusting he was. So he would have to watch the man's body language and see if his intentions were honest or deceitful. But the evaluation was stopped short as Charlie quickly realized that this figure was a familiar one; a realization that, apparently, had not struck the other person yet. What an odd coincidence... at least, he believed it to be a coincidence. "And here I thought I wasn't going to see a familiar face," he murmured, but loud enough for Sven to hear, taking another swig from his steaming cup.