Well, some nights, I wish that this all would end ¦ Mickey

[Lyra Horváth]

Lyra was at a bit of a loss, as she had been since Christmas or so, she supposed. With little to keep her busy until her dueling tour of the states would start next week. She had packed and pretty much everything already; or rather Hana's assistant had packed the medley of specially designed outfits to be worn for exhibitions and press junkets. Lyra would throw her own last-minute supplies into her raggedy old rucksack. It had done her well enough in the last ten or so years of its life, especially after it had been expanded on the inside. She'd been getting a lot more use out of it over the last few months since she had been staying at the Waverly Hotel in Diagon Alley.

Since the break up with her mate, she had been effectively homeless, despite Hanna's insistence to get her to stay with her. Although in a much more privileged position than she once was. Now she could afford an extended stay at one of Diagon Alley's five-star Hotels thanks to a good business relationship with the general manager; who seemed to frequent her bar perhaps slightly too much. But alas, it worked in her favour. Although she was afforded the trappings of a five-star hotel, there was understanding there. For Lyra, someone who was used to spending extended time in the forest, essentially feral while homeless, the decadence was too much. She preferred the simple things in life. Likely when she returned from months in the states she'd look into buying a more modest flat, but for now, there was no point. For now, between time in her bedroom at the Waverly and probing up the bar here at 96th at the Shard, there really was no point. Glancing around as she set her Tom Collins cocktail down, she smiled to herself. It seemed to actually be going pretty well since she purchased the deed last September. Of course, she didn't know anything about running the place, but she had kept on the staff for that. Her only aim was to make the place more inclusive. Welcoming to half breeds and mongrels like herself.

Most nights she came simply to soak up the atmosphere. Or so she told herself anyway. In reality, it was likely to feel less alone; instead of pacing her hotel room or feeling like she was bugging Hanna over text, she perched herself here at the bar and people-watched. It was more fun than the vacuous television shows piped into the hotel room that Hanna had encouraged herself to keep busy with. There was the added bonus of only being able to run into people on her terms. If she was out and about drinking in Diagon Alley there was a larger chance to run into Rob or any of his friends by pure accident. None of them had ever come to this place, her place. In truth the fact Rob had never shown his face hurt more than she cared to admit. He had seemed excited about her idea of making it a more inclusive scene for Werewolves. Though it was unsurprising. Even months after he had broken their bond the ache in her chest, while dulled, was ever-present. She imagined it was the same for him, even if he did have Sienna to keep his mind off of it.

Lyra's choice of busying herself was slightly less...structured. There'd been others of course; that was her way of coping. Likely too many men and women for her to keep track of. It was likely another reason she hung around here. If someone caught her eye and entertained her for the night it was a win. If she went home with them and ended her night a little less lonely it was a plus. It was unfortunate the pain in her bones never truly settled, but the physical act distracted her enough for a little while at least. The alcohol and other substances helped too.

Sitting at the bar tonight she licked at her lips and frowned slightly, setting her drink to the side. The cocktail was a new one on the menu, and the bartender had said she'd like it. It wasn't what she expected at all, but it was too late. She hated waste and decided she'd drink it anyway; it might not be a bad thing to slow her down either way. 

michelangelo tiberius mclaggen

[michelangelo tiberius mclaggen]

▲

There weren’t too many magical establishments left that Mickey hadn’t been to at one point or another by now. Whether with the team or on his own, he’d made it a habit of his to travel to as many as he could whilst in whatever city he happened to be playing in. Tonight, he was alone. He had never been to this place before, though that seemed to be more because it was new rather than him having missed it all these years. Eventually his team would catch wind of it and probably try to turn it into a personal hangout. They always did that whenever a new pub or club popped up. Then they would party hard for a few months and get bored once their good fortune ran out or the owner started to turn sour. Quidditch teams were great for business until they suddenly weren’t. Mickey had tried his best over the years to keep them in line, and seeing as it was part of his job as Captain now, it seemed that much more important for him.

Overall, he liked the vibe that the 96th at the Shard gave off. He enjoyed that the place was technically outside, charmed to have perfect weather despite what was raging on outside. Unless he was somewhere tropical, there was absolutely no way he was ever sitting outside at a bar in the middle of February. And the view? To die for. Mickey spent a lot of time in the air so he could see how this place wouldn’t be for everyone, especially those that had issues with height. But for him it was perfect. It gave an almost similar feeling of weightlessness that being on a broom did. The only other time he’d experienced such a thing was during first year when a fifth year Hufflepuff boy had dangled him upside down because he thought Mickey had stuck a firecracker in his robe pocket.

That memory flashing back suddenly made him laugh behind the glass of whiskey he’d been nursing for the last several minutes. There was no one else to share it with today, his team wouldn’t have cared anyways, and he didn’t know the bartender here either. If he made it a habit of stopping by when he was in London, maybe that would be possible one day. The only issue was that it seemed to be slightly exclusive, and anywhere that required reservations ahead of time would make it difficult to match up to his schedule. But he’d try if he was impressed by the end of the night. The other patrons definitely seemed to be slightly more up to speed and on top of their game than the usual rabble he found himself hanging around too. For once, he felt like he stuck out as he sat silently and drank.

Lyra Horváth ● 475 ● Song by Artist

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

[Lyra Horváth]

For not the first time tonight, Lyra had found herself lost in thought. The mediocre din of the general background noise had long slipped away till she had retreated into herself. Something she had become rather good at. So much had spun in her head the last few weeks, it was easier to sit in such a crowded place and feel swamped in so many other ways. The bar was busy, but nicely so. The buzz wasn't hectic or rushed, or overly loud, and never chaotic. But just nice. A comfortable ambiance and air of close contentment, even if the place was essentially open-air unto the whole of the city of London.

As her fingers twitched aimlessly at the marble top bar, she felt herself counting a beat she wasn't even following, or aware of.

Briefly drawn out of her stupor she finally set the unwanted cocktail aside and caught the bar staff's eyes. After a swift nod in the direction of the many whimsical whiskey bottles; it wasn't long before a delicately engraved tumbler sat in front of her, full of the warm amber liquid. Beside it, a small sugar bowl. A new habit of hers. It was something that surprisingly gave her hangovers, but something she had also instigated as a way to slow herself down in a different way altogether. After a careful plop of a cube into the tumbler, her attention was captured by a guy sitting a few seats down from her. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but not something she could totally pinpoint. He was sitting alone, but something had made him laugh.

"Something funny?" The left corner of her mouth twitched just slightly at the same time her eyebrow lifted. She wasn't being accusatory but maybe he had seen her mix the sugar into her whiskey and now was jibing her about it. Her eyes watched him, glittering almost playfully. She supposed this was where her evening entertainment would come from tonight.

michelangelo tiberius mclaggen

[michelangelo tiberius mclaggen]

▲

Mickey had thought the voice asking him what he found funny was coming from the bartender at first, his good ear not really picking up that it was actually from a woman sitting off to his side. Had she been here this whole time? Lost in thought was one of his lesser traits, only because he spent so much of his day laser focused on stopping quaffles and dodging bludgers. Even when out with the team, Mickey felt like he talked as much as the rest of them. Secretly being a tad introverted at times helped with that. Just existing around the others was good enough for him most of the time. “Was just thinking about how high up we are right now,” he responded, turning his whole body on the stool so that he could face her. That was going to be better for his hearing anyways. “I sometimes forget that not everyone is comfortable with heights.” And there he was, daily, on a broom and performing death-defying stunts to make money. Losing his hearing in one ear clearly wasn’t enough for him to call it quits just yet.

“I play Quidditch,” Mickey clarified. He didn’t want her to think he was some sort of permanent resident of this bar. Far from it, despite clinically being considered an alcoholic by most standards. “It’s sort of comforting being up here, in a weird way.” He took a long sip of his drink before motioning to the bartender that he wanted another. It looked like his quiet evening alone would at least have a conversation now.

Lyra Horváth ● ### ● Song by Artist

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0