You could try and kill me, but what for?

For the storms are coming to rain down on us. And if the lightning strikes, I'd rather not be here by that time. [Sergej St. John, Auror, 38]

[girl-meet-world-blog]

5.1.1982

Leaky Cauldron

10pm

@loyal-saint​

The door opened with a creak, easily drowned out by the noise of the pub, and its patrons inside. Glenda stepped inside with a purpose, and it wasn’t to get as smashed as possible. No, she was planning on meeting someone, who wasn’t aware of the impending appointment.

Easily, Glenda ducked and moved between the people, pushing her way into the corner of the room with Sergej St John sat, nursing something alcoholic. Perhaps it would be easier than she suspected, get him drunk enough and he would start singing like a nightingale.

Once Glenda reached him, she pulled up a chair and sat down facing him, a small smile on her face. “Hey, I’m Glenda.” She wasn’t quite sure as to how she would start it off, whether she would pretend to be here for some fun and get him drunk first, or offer to pay him in alcohol, or just be forthright? The third option sounded way too blunt, but an introduction never hurt anybody.

[loyal-saint]

He was nursing his drink with care. Alcohol, especially a forty years old, very expensive whiskey, wasn’t to be downed like a shot glass of whatever the bartender had sold cheap that night. So he was slowly, almost religiously, takng sips from the golden liquor in his hands. It burned like arson, but tasted to him like a special kind of heaven.

Sergej enjoyed the night. Alone. That was until a woman came in and made a bee line for his table. He didn’t even recognize what was going on until it was too late and she was on him. Leaning over into his space, taking a seat on the opposite side. Frowning deeply he scrutinized her from top to bottom. She seemed to have that certain air about her. Something he fiercely hated. A reporters air. Though he couldn’t be too sure.

Clicking his tongue he let her sit down anyway, waiting for whatever she had to say. Sergej wasn’t fazed in the least. Surely she would ask her questions and leave him alone for the rest of the night. Hopefully. At least. Please.

Instead of saying all of his thoughts aloud, he looked at her with a stony expression, one corner of his lips slightly pulled up in weary amusement. “Sergej,“ he offered in a grunt as he took another slow sip from his whiskey, not taking his eyes off her. He didn’t say anything else, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nobody ever approached him like this. So blunt. She clearly was someone who knew what she wanted. And he was the one who was either giving it to her or denying her... well, they would see where this would lead.

[loyal-saint]

Drink, drunk, sleep it off

[amxliasbxnes-deactivated2022032]

She looked at him and then towards the empty shot glasses, shaking her head a bit. “Oh, no. That was not for me. But visiting Germany doesn’t sound that bad.” Amelia replied and glanced at him with a small smile. “Have you been to Germany a lot then? I’ve heard about some of the alcohol there, it’s some strong stuff, right?”

The licorice one had been a mistake and she knew it. But his expression was worth the horrible taste. “Not a fan of licorice either?”

Amelia was starting to feel the affects of the alcohol she had been drinking and as she took the shot glass of vodka into her hand, she decided on a break. She downed it and let out a quiet sigh, closing her eyes for a moment. “Now, I’m taking a small break or you will end up carrying me home which would be embarrassing.” She chuckled a bit and rested her arm on the counter, just feeling the alcohol making her body buzz slightly. The smile was more permanent on her lips now as she felt more relaxed. “Is that your go-to-drink?” She asked and nodded towards his whiskey glass to start a conversation she could hold up.

[loyal-saint]

He wrinkled his forehead. If he got to Germany a lot? “’m not sure what a lot means. I’m ‘ere and there an’ regularly away on business or pleasure. ‘ave been away to train rookies.“ He shrugged slightly cringing slightly at the memories of all the people that had given him a headache for all his troubles. Meaning... inflaming themselves and their partner. For one. And yes, it happened. And it was one of the worst things in his career. Not tha the had minded the little breaks from his desk jobs.

“Licorice isn’t my thing.“ He admitted after a pause. “Least not with alcohol. Or drowned in alcohol...“ He trailed off, looking at his glass, before taking a sip of his whiskey. “You?“ He asked after a minute. “Ye don’t like the taste?“

Sergej chuckled as he heard her declaring a small defeat. It was a shame, really. But he was relieved to not be swallowing any more poison, which meant the too sweet and artificial taste mixed with a bastardy alcohol that probably was running stale (though alcohol didn’t run stale - at least not usually, maybe because people drank it or because it had too high percentage and was kept correctly). “I can get ya home, I told ya.“ He murmured under his breath as he nursed his drink. “Yes. It definitely is. How’s yours?“

[loyal-saint]

Get them off - Please!?

[porcelaindagger]

It was a miracle in itself that he didn’t simply push her from his cot, insisting that she leave him alone; he was never the type to accept help from anyone it seemed, but Alice knew good and well that he needed her help as much as she needed his. Everyone in the long hall filled with cots needed each other; it was strangely equalizing to be in such a bind. They all looked as if they’d been to hell and back- and perhaps that was becuase they had been. 

She held out her rag, still damp from the healing medicine that the women from St. Mungo’s had given her. “Here, take this,” she insisted, “Helps the sting.” It was a relief that she’d not seen Sergej’s face in the forefront of her nightmare; she’d heard his voice once or twice, which was enough to shake her, but at least she could look at him without seeing his mangled body. 

Alice had thrown quite the fit when the Healers had insisted she be separated from Alastor; the gas had done more of a number on his eyes than hers, perhaps because she’d done a well enough job of crying herself clear. She could see much more easily than some of the other, she realized, as she looked about the long atrium hallway, and for that she was thankful. She could only imagine what they all still saw in the darkness behind their eyes. 

When he spoke again, she paled, though there was nothing to be ashamed of, as far as she was concerned. “I’m fine,” she muttered, wondering if there was any use at all in evading the subject, “Eyes don’t hurt as much. And I’m not seeing, uh… not seeing the nightmare when I close my eyes anymore. I doubt I’ll be able to sleep though. I just thought-” she looked up again, catching a glimpse of Alastor from down the hall, hunched over by a pair of Healers, “I thought he was dead. Worst bloody minute of my life, before he woke up. Damn dream bled over into reality, and it just,” she sighed, “Just don’t think I’ll be sleeping for a while.”

[loyal-saint]

Sergej searched her face in silence. Everyone who’d been closer to the release points of the potion had a glassy look in their eyes. Some were far away still, locked in their very own, private nightmare. Somehow he should call himself lucky. He wasn’t close to one. And unconscious. It made his dreams a little lighter and he had easily detected the lies behind the black curtain the potion had woven around him. It didn’t make his eyes sting less, but at least he hadn’t tried to claw them out.

Sighing he accepted the cloth from her, cautiously smelling the stuff on it before he dabbed it once across his lids. Somehow she had accomplished what ten Healer’s before her had unsuccessfully tried to do. Give him a chance to pause and sit still instead of running around and demanding to be let go - that she got him to accept help was a great feat, the healing medicine was just a bonus. Between locked jaws he grumbled a thank you into the air, waving it away with another gesture. Not that he was embarrassed to admit that he felt slightly better after wiping his face with her cloth. His surroundings were a bit less milky and at least stopped being kind of shifted. Like two pictures overlaying each other. His nightmare on one side and reality on the other.

Sergej breathed in, watching Alice while she talked. There was a longing in her eyes that he recognized from drunken, lonely nights when he accidentally caught himself in the mirror. And where she directed it... Sergej followed her gaze, resting his own eyes on his long time partner. A frown appeared on his face as he watched the Healer’s fuzzing over him, running around like headless chicken when the man (probably) insisted on being okay.

For the duration of a second his lips twitched into a barely there smile, but it vanished as he pulled his attention back to Alice. The woman looked small. For a lack of better description. Truly, he felt sorry for her. He knew how hard the reality of seeing a loved one (and her eyes, her posture told him so much more about the nature of their relationship, but he didn’t put a name or lable on it, he wasn’t about ready to call the two of them out if they didn’t acknowledge it first) die was. He could, though, imagine the relieve of finding the person still alive. Although... only imagine...

Tentatively Sergej touched Alice’s face, steering her away from the train of thought by turning her face towards him. “Me, too.“ He said solemnly in his deep and scratchy voice that told a whole story of how the images of his wife had collided with seeing all of his colleagues dead, one way or another. And his personal experience with such things had only helped the imagery. “You’re okay, Alice.” - they wouldn’t be fine for a while, but the nightmares might fade quicker than he thought - “It’s alright to feel like you won’t be able to sleep, it was a terrifying experience...“ And he looked at her with meaning in his eyes. Never the big talker, he didn’t know what else to do but caress his thumb over her cheek and trying to give comfort with his presence, much more through his little, gentle hand gestures than through what he was saying. He never could find the right words anyway. Even if he had more experience.

Sergej opened up by turning in her direction. She could cling to him, lean into him and hug him, if she needed it. He offered it silently. Maybe even waiting for her to take the invitation, like he knew she needed more than empty words telling her that it was all just a dream. Sometimes people needed to feel so they could get their feet back underneath.

[thatotherlestrange-blog]

The warmth flows in unexpectedly, and he shudders in inadvertence, having not fully appreciated the comforts of being dry until it actually happened to him. Definitely preferable. He makes a noise in the back of his throat that doesn’t sound like it has any vernacular in English- but it should probably be taken as ‘thanks’ in seeming lieu of anything else.

“Well, you know me,” he offers blandly, markedly more happy now that he’s dry, “Slept my way through everything.” A smirk tugs on his lips, and somehow he still manages to make himself look debauched with just a look, hair falling in messy curls across his forehead and a collar askew that leaves a clean trail down to the flesh of his collarbone. While of course simultaneously lying on the ground like a fish dead on land.

There’s a pause as Rab gauges the situation, narrowing his gaze at the hand being offered before peering beyond it and at Sergej. “Not going to pick me up?” He asks instead, tone almost petulant, buy also almost certainly half amused.

[loyal-saint]

“Whore,“ he adds playfully in wry amusement, looking at Rab with a dubious look in his eyes that makes certain that he’s not sure if Rabastan didn’t sleep with anyone from their office, though he can definitely imagine the young man charming any of the women into his bed with ease. He was good looking, he had to give him that.

And if Sergej pointedly follows the direction of that opened shirt? Well, that’s just him making a point. Not that Rab asked to be oogled by anyone, but a few people did stop and stare at him. Maybe the two of them. With an impatient shake of his hand he watched as the other man only looked at his offer to get him on his two feet like he was a particularly lazy cat, eyeing a mouse.

What!? Sergej lifts a brow, huffing out a hoarse chuckle as he watches the man sitting in the snow like a kid wanting to be taken up into a hug and carried home. “As handsome as ye’r, fellow, I’m not pickin’ ye up, not even fer a one night stand.“ Though the older man looks a bit too amused at Lestrange’s words.

[moodyalastors-deactivated201706]

“Aye, but it’s no’ like that proverb’s gon’ do us any good,” Alastor quipped back, a laugh escaping him. “Not like we’re much for words, anyway.” He grinned, clapping Sergej on the back and sitting up. He’s sure there’s at least one person who’s recognised two Ministry officials rolling about in the snow like children, but he can’t seem to find it in himself to care. The entire year’s seen a whole lot of shite go down, but they’ve been through a lot over the years. Ten minutes in the snow on a good day isn’t going to hurt anyone, and it’s definitely not going to bring the wizarding world down to its knees. “I’m more of a lizard, if y’think about it,” he offered, leaning back on his elbows. “Hey, I’ll give y’that.” There was an unspoken rule about Sergej’s wife; a rule they just didn’t cross, and they’d already begun to skate on thin ice. “Not as sappy, but we’re not escaping old age any time soon.” Alastor shook his head, his hair in disarray as he did so, emerging with a smirk on his face. “Care? Me? I’ve no idea what you’re talkin’ about, mate,” he said, nudging Sergej’s side. “And hey, you’re just as wet right now, the entire office’s gon’ be staring.”

[loyal-saint]

Well, if someone noticed them than they should either work on a cover story or let the ridiculous comment roll in at the office and give mysterious double meaning answers that spike more rumors or give the rookies death glares so they won’t even dare to ask about why the two of them had fun in the snow. Not that it was anyone else’s business what they did or didn’t do. “Nah,“ he chuckles, “Words? Ye mean the foreign thin’ where people actually try t’ communicate through noise and gibb’rish?“ He shakes his head in amusement as he tries to clear himself of at least half the snow still lodged in the creases of his clothes. “Lizard,“ he scoffs. “Cat, I say.“ And it sounds so final that it doesn’t even leave room for an argument. Instead he slowly rights himself, striaghtening his back, but still refusing to get to his feet any time soon. Not that he was too comfortable on the cold ground... maybe it was comfortable in another sense though. Even when an unbidden thought crossed his mind, that he quickly pushed away. He didn’t need to see her face flickering behind his lids, although the thought definitely wanted to stick around like a cloud, waiting to rain on their parade.

Alastor’s nudge finally did the trick and Sergej looked only slightly confused, seemingly having lost the thread of their conversation. “Nah, we certainly don’t,“ he grins, “At least not all of us...“ And with that he brushes snow off of Alastor’s shoulder. “Missed some.“ He murmures it low under his breath as he listens to the man going on about caring and being wet... Slowly Sergej lifts one brow. It’s so deliberate a motion that it quickly turns funny. “Hey, we might already be the scandal of our office. I sure ‘s hell think we stayed ‘way fer too long, mate. There’s definitely some talk startin’ right ‘bout now!“ He sounds so serious, though his mouth quirks into a boyish smile that belies his words.

[loyal-saint]

Drink, drunk, sleep it off

[amxliasbxnes-deactivated2022032]

She looked to the direction he looked at and rolled her eyes when she saw the group of teenager looking people. “That might be their choice of drink, mine it definitely isn’t.” Amelia mumbled and watched him down the shot first before downing it herself at the same time. A small cough left her lips as she put the shot glass down, it wasn’t as bad as the first one but still, this was not for her. “What the bloody hell was that?”

She eyed the shot glasses and picked out the black one. She could already tell what it was - licorice. “This one I might even like.” Amelia mumbled to herself before taking the shot, not even waiting for him to take the shot glass. When she downed the black liquid, she instantly regretted it. It tasted horrible and she couldn’t help the expression her face held after that. “Nope, just nope. Which one’s the vodka? I need to get this taste off, now.”

[loyal-saint]

“Waldmeister,“ he groans as he tries to think of something else but the sweet (maybe slightly sour, but definitely prickly) taste. It isn’t dispelled so easily, but he looks at her blinking. “Ye should go ta Germany, they kinda fabricate this...“ and he tips at the shot glass that’s still containing the remains that gather at the bottom. Shining in a translucent greenish colour. “Poor taste they got in this.“ But the bread was actually good. And the small baked treats. Also a good thing.

When she picks the drink that’s as black as the night he immediately frowns at the drink. He knows what is before he even puts it to his lips. He even mimicks her expression of distaste as he waits for it to slip further down his throat. These were all Goddamn awful. “Shit, I hate licorice...“ At least as a drink. He didn’t even wait for her question when he signalled the bartender for his standard whiskey. That would surely dispell it. Make it bearable.

At her question he qestured to the glasses filled with clear liquids. “One’a those!“ Probably, he added in thought only as he waited for the bartender to bring his order.

[aylin-celeste-astra-blog]

“There was this one summer I was recovering from a broken ankle from Quidditch. You try telling four brothers you can’t be their sub when they play rugby.” Lucy laughed to herself remembering how the egged her on to not walk with her crutches when she should’ve been keep the pressure off her ankle. “So I gave in, hit a hole in the sand and almost re-broke it. Now it clicks when I roll it. Fun party trick really.” It was a horrible habit she had acquired over the years but when she was bored at work she would roll her ankle over and over to listen to the small click.

His accent was intoxicating, and it wasn’t the rum making her think that. He looked tired, but when he smiled, even if it was slight, she couldn’t help but smile back. “Hey, you’re just like me! You sound funny to these English poppets too. And where from Ireland do you hail from?” Lucy loved hearing about far away places since she knew there would never be enough money in the world to quench her travel thirst. It only took two more big sips for her to finish her drink.

[loyal-saint]

He chuckled a bit at her story. He could kind of relate. Though he never did have brothers, just a sister that wasn’t taking any shit from him anyway. And she was a force to be reckoned with. Not complying to his wishes at all. Never. Shaking his head he contemplated slowly “Rough ‘n tough boys.“ He shrugs as if he wants to apologize on their behalf, though he’s more than sure that the boys were plenty sorry afterwards. Probably tending to the small sunshine he had sitting across from him. She certainly looked happy enough. Not filled with disdain, but rather a fodnness only those with siblings could properly understand. “Sounds almost like ye could use it as a pick-up line,“ he says with wry amusement.

“Dublin, straight from the heart of Ireland, all legal so far...” Though Sergej ducks his head a little. “’M not pure-bred dearie, got half Russian in me too.“ And this sounds a lot more like an apology. Because he wouldn’t like to mislead her on the account of his heritage. Although it surely isn’t that important at all.

[thatotherlestrange-blog]

He almost grumbles, almost. “Too much effort for a warming charm.” He sticks with that instead, and pauses before decisively rolling over and lying face down in the snow like a corpse. He wonders experimentally how much snow he could eat with relative ease before getting brain-freeze. Just to prove the point that he’s a five year old stuck in the body of a twenty-something year old.

Best not, is the decision he goes with.

There are times when one should act like a child, and then times when one should decide not to act too much like a child. Besides, he needed to save more of those times for Bells.

“They should never have hired me,” he mumbles incoherently into the snow, and then rolls back onto his back. He doesn’t really want his face to freeze off, and it feels like it’s doing that at the moment. Getting frostbite is all well and good, except when it’s really not.

“I should go in and dry off. So should you. What’s the time?” He cranes his gaze over, “And when does break finish.”

There’s a pause, “Who’s fault is it anyway that I’m soaking wet.”

[loyal-saint]

He hears a row of complains. Snow filled complains. Wet complains. Dry humour, more frozen complains as he looks at Rabastan sticking his face in snow - ouch, that must sting at least a bit, like cold air on heated skin - and then look at him, still dripping almost frozen droplets all over him as he asks for the time. Sergej doesn’t even get to pull away. After all it’s his fault that Rab is now freezing and cold and he doesn’t deny it.

So he rubs the back of his head with one hand and fumbles for his wand, strapped to his upper leg. Quickly he mutters a few charms. One to dry Rab, one to clean him up a little and one to get the warmth back into those higly frozen limps. And no... he still doesn’t care for the kid. He just takes care of the kid.

“Come on,“ he grumbles as he pushed himself up, reaching a hand in front of Lestrange’s face, offering him an easy way up. “Ye must be good at watcha doin’ or they wouldn’t have gotten yer ta sign.“ After a pause he cocks his head to the side. “Probably ‘t was yer face.“ And he grins a little at his own joke. “And now that I’m responsible for making you wet and leavin’ ya dry -“ another small nnuendo placed there-” I’ll be helping you back to yer office, kid. Playtimes over since five minutes ago.“

[aylin-celeste-astra-blog]

“Oh, no no. No need for that. Been through much worse honestly.” She laughed pathetically at herself and the scene she was making. He looked like a gentleman, and the last thing he probably wanted was some barefoot ninny sitting next to him. It wasn’t like she could move though, so when she finally had the bartender’s attention she ordered a rum and ginger ale. “With extra lime please!” she called after them.

Like a child she pressed her feet against the wall that separated the bar and her stool and pushed back. The cool wood beneath her feet was almost orgasmic, but the pain from the pressure made Lucy wince. She must have looked so juvenile sitting at the bar pushing herself back and balancing on the back two legs of the stool. If there was ever a time her mother’s voice was clear in her head it was now. “Young lady if you don’t sit upright you’re going to break your neck!” Without hesitating, she bent her legs and put the stool back on all fours while letting her feet dangle. Sometimes being short was a good thing, especially when the floor beneath was anything but clean. As soon her drink arrived she took a large gulp, letting out a satisfied sigh. “Best way to end the work day in my opinion,” she smiled at the stranger next to her.

[loyal-saint]

He wasn’t looking at her directly, not when she ordered and not when she wibbled on her chair, going back and forth. But when she adressed him he flicked his eyes up to her young looking fac and wondered what she had done to hurt herself (or rather her feet) in that way. Cocking his head to one side. “What would be worse than blistering your feet?“ And the second he said the words he kind of regretted his choice of words, but it didn’t show on his face. This sounded somewhat... awful. But he didn’t have any other way to answer and keep the conversation going. He didn’t know her. Was seeing her for the first time today and really, he wasn’t good with making friends... or at least acquaintances.

So he jumped onto something else he was a bit better in. Drinks. “Yeah, I can relate! ‘tis definitely the best way ta end ‘n evenin’.“ His Irish accent made a small appearance as he lifted his own drink in relieve to take a sip, savouring the burning taste of smoak and oak on his tongue before he swallowed it down.

[loyal-saint]

When times get rough - Doe & Sergej

[msdorcasmeadowes-blog]

“No, no it’s alright. I’m fine.” Dorcas said, waving her hand as if dismissing the thought that she was tired. She felt bad if she just left him alone and just went off to bed. In her mind that definitely wasn’t very healer like. She should at least make sure he was comfortable before she went off to bed. Besides, it’s not like Doe didn’t trust him but she had heard enough cases where a patient would over do it on the potions and there would be a bigger problem than the one they started with. 

Although…the more she thought about it, the better her bed sounded. Reasoning with herself that she kept all her other potions locked up in the medicine cabinet of her bathroom and with the paper thin flat walls she would be able to hear if something was wrong, she pushed all worry to the back of her mind. 

“Yeah, yeah alright. But listen, you wake me up if there’s a problem. It’s not common but it’s happened before where a spell wears off before the skin is probably healed and the wounds open up again. We don’t want that to happen.” Doe rambled as she got up and set the sleeping potion down on the coffee table. “And don’t you think of leaving tomorrow morning without letting me check on all your vitals.” She half threatened as she made her way towards her bedroom. 

[loyal-saint]

Sergej didn’t much care if her behaviour was Healer like. They were in the private of her four walls so screw the system, but he could heal on his own. In fond exasperation he gave her the smallest of pointed looks he could manage, smile going lopsided as he tries not to roll his eyes at her comment. But she seemingly was able to pick up the vibe anyway when she agreed to go.

He shook his head in amusement as he pulled the pillow to one side of the couch and making a grab for the blanket to drape it over the back until he got at least down to his shirt and trousers, leaving shoes and socks (neatly folded package with the rest of his clothing) on the ground next to his ‘bed’. “Sure thing, darlin’,“ he answered, coming up from behind the couch as she stood in the doorway to her bedroom. He’d rather like to avoid bleeding on her couch, much less her house for a second time today. “Ne’er.“ He grunted as he placed himself on the couch, pulling the blanket over himself. “You can check when you’ve slept more than an hour!“

Sergej eyed the vial, taking it into his hands and stared at it for a moment until he heard the click of the bedroom door. For another minute he listened to her rustling around, the bed creaking once before he heard nothing. Again, he waited for a minute, then put the vial on the ground next to his clothes, draping his jacket over it so Dorcas wouldn’t see that he hadn’t taken the drug.

[The End]

[aylin-celeste-astra-blog]

The Leaky Cauldron 7:00PM

Heels would never be easy to walk in, no matter how much practice someone had. The last time she even remembered wearing them was her graduation party because her mother made her, and they only stayed on for a total of twenty minutes. After that it was bare feet all day long, because it wasn’t easy playing volleyball with shoes on. She had been praying all day for the moment someone would step out of the office so she could release her feet from the death traps, but all day someone was always in there.

Walking into the Leaky Cauldron was like walking into your grandma’s living room. At first you were a little scared to touch anything or talk to anyone, but after awhile you got used to the weird smell and funny looking people. Many didn’t pay mind to the small blonde holding on to the wall trying to stand up straight and failing miserably. The heels needed to come off as soon as possible so she shuffled her way toward a stool and as soon as she had herself situated she kicked her heels off onto the floor. With a sigh of relief, Lucy closed her eyes and let the cool air rush against her swollen feet. It wasn’t until she noticed the person staring next to her that she decided to sit up a little straighter and compose herself. “Sorry mate. It’s real hard walkin in shoes that are literally made of death.” Slightly blushing she looked toward the bartender to order a drink. It was going to be a long night.

[loyal-saint]

Sergej held his obligatory glass of whiskey in between his hands. Though it shouldn’t be called holding when the glass stood on the table and ‘holding’ was actually made up of his fingers touching each other while his palms just faced the glass, though never touched it. Right at the moment he sought the answers to the problems of the world by gazing into his glass a woman sat next to him. Her breath coming out like exhaustion itself. It blew across his bare forearm. Made him look up and glance at her.

She was beautiful in her dress and high heels (currently off - and that was most charming in his eyes because he’d never understood the need for wearing murder weapons on your feet), looking a bit flushed from whatever she’d done. “I can imagine,“ he answered gruffly, lifting a brow as he watched her wiggle her toes, her face slowly turning a darker shade of pink - a blush, his mind reminded him. Though he sat there, a bit of stiffness in his limbs, while she was all grace even when she was complaining. Sergej smiled wrily. “Need ice?“ He asked quickly, gesturing at her feet.

[lestateur]

[loyal-saint]

Drink, drunk, sleep it off

[amxliasbxnes-deactivated2022032]

She couldn't hide her smile when she heard him laugh. It was nice to hear anyone laugh but someone like Sergej was a rare occasion and she knew it. Amelia looked at him and shook her head a bit, still amused by this. “Thank you for you concern. But good luck to you too.” She replied and turned to look at the drinks, taking the one he offered her before downing it. It burned and she couldn’t control her face as it turned into something that definitely showed her dislike towards the strawberry-tasting shot. “Oh my God. Does anyone actually like that?”

The night was going to be long by the looks of the shot glasses but Amelia didn’t really mind. Some time off was always good and this company wasn’t even that bad so far. The green one just looked like poison to her. She took a small whiff of it and her eyes widened. She turned to look at Sergej and shook her head. “What is that shite? Is it going to kill me? Just tell me and I can avoid it.”

[loyal-saint]

Sergej shook his head as he watched her winc like he’d done. “Kids I bet,“ he answered at her question and threw a meanignful look at the barely above teenage years group a few tables down from where they sat at the bar. “Maybe second one’s the charm!?“ Sergej was sniffing the drink, but everything he caught was a whiff of alcohol, the rest didn’t overpower the taste and smell of the strawberry and vodka-sugar mess he just had. Strawberry-lime. Something he needed to boycott the import for. Sergej gave her a dirty look. “No gettin’ over this, dalin’.“ He chidded and put the glass to his lips, motioning for her to do the same. This time, he didn’t want to be the taste-tester for this thing. The second the alcohol hit his tongue he was disappointed that it wasn’t absinth, but rather the Waldmeister flavoured kind. But with what exactly, he couldn’t put his finger on. Probably something that could be set in a row with vodka, the way it burned down his throat. The liquor was relatively sweet, but in this case it didn’t overpower it all. Smacking his lips together he put his empty shot glass down. “Now, it’s yer turn to pick the poison!“

[moodyalastors-deactivated201706]

They were way, way too old for this, there were probably a dozen people wondering why two Ministry officials were acting like complete idiots in the snow. “How dare you forget, that’s like a knife t’the heart.” Alastor laughed, sitting up in the snow and playfully nudging Sergej in the shoulder. There was something so removed about this situation: he could barely remember the last time he had sat back and forgotten the war. Hell, he didn’t even remember the last time he’d lain down in the snow. “Who’re you callin’ a kitten, mate?” Alastor grinned, shaking the snow Sergej had thrown at him out of his hair. “You’re the sappy one out o’ the two of us, old man.” He patted Sergej on the shoulder, before smirking and pushing flecks of snow in his face. “That’s for my hair.”

[loyal-saint]

“Ye know what they say ‘bout friends and stabbing,“ he sighs out on a chuckle, lifting himself up on one arm to have the advantage of height, “’n keepin’ yer friends close and all of those nice wordin’s.“ He throws some more snow at him, but it hits the man in the chest instead of the face. Unlucky shot? Maybe. Maybe he’s exhausted enough of his energy on laughing and being merrier than he’s allowed to for the whole week! At least it felt that way. Him being happy now must come with the prize of him being the grumpiest bear in the Ministry tomorrow. Which would mean that he would come back to growling on the job and people actually wincing when he barks orders. That would be fun! Laughing slightly he shook his head clearing his mind. “Imma call ya a kitten whenever I want,“ he huffs in amusement. “And I’m not sappy. Old maybe, but not as sappy as I used to be.“ And he’s cocking his head to the side, before he closes his eyes real quick so no snow hits his eyes. Wiping a hand over his face - he did deserve this one, he knew - he gives Alastor a playful glare. “Yer hair needs less attention. Or do you want someone to notice the amount of care you give it?“ He grins. “Someone will definitely look at ya if yer going wet hair and all that jazz.“ Sergej nods with his chin at all of Alastor, lieing in the snow. Probably slowly getting soaked in the (also slowly) melting pile with him.

[moodyalastors-deactivated201706]

They were way, way too old for this, there were probably a dozen people wondering why two Ministry officials were acting like complete idiots in the snow. “How dare you forget, that’s like a knife t’the heart.” Alastor laughed, sitting up in the snow and playfully nudging Sergej in the shoulder. There was something so removed about this situation: he could barely remember the last time he had sat back and forgotten the war. Hell, he didn’t even remember the last time he’d lain down in the snow. “Who’re you callin’ a kitten, mate?” Alastor grinned, shaking the snow Sergej had thrown at him out of his hair. “You’re the sappy one out o’ the two of us, old man.” He patted Sergej on the shoulder, before smirking and pushing flecks of snow in his face. “That’s for my hair.”

[loyal-saint]

“Ye know what they say ‘bout friends and stabbing,“ he sighs out on a chuckle, lifting himself up on one arm to have the advantage of height, “’n keepin’ yer friends close and all of those nice wordin’s.“ He throws some more snow at him, but it hits the man in the chest instead of the face. Unlucky shot? Maybe. Maybe he’s exhausted enough of his energy on laughing and being merrier than he’s allowed to for the whole week! At least it felt that way. Him being happy now must come with the prize of him being the grumpiest bear in the Ministry tomorrow. Which would mean that he would come back to growling on the job and people actually wincing when he barks orders. That would be fun! Laughing slightly he shook his head clearing his mind. “Imma call ya a kitten whenever I want,“ he huffs in amusement. “And I’m not sappy. Old maybe, but not as sappy as I used to be.“ And he’s cocking his head to the side, before he closes his eyes real quick so no snow hits his eyes. Wiping a hand over his face - he did deserve this one, he knew - he gives Alastor a playful glare. “Yer hair needs less attention. Or do you want someone to notice the amount of care you give it?“ He grins. “Someone will definitely look at ya if yer going wet hair and all that jazz.“ Sergej nods with his chin at all of Alastor, lieing in the snow. Probably slowly getting soaked in the (also slowly) melting pile with him.

[loyal-saint]

When times get rough - Doe & Sergej

[msdorcasmeadowes-blog]

“Nah, i’m far from an angel.” Dorcas laughed softly and placed the pillow and the blanket down on the couch. “I think those potions are making you delusional.” She teased and walked over to start cleaning the blood off the armchair where he had previously been sitting. 

It was only than that she really realized how tired she was. Getting woken up at 2 in the morning when you had gone to bed only an hour prior definitely was not an ideal situation (but than again, anything less than at least four hours of sleep wasn’t ideal for her.) Though it wasn’t that she was going to sit here and complain. It was better than he had decided to come here instead of trying to fight through the pain and not get any help. With the condition he had been in, that would have surely ended badly. 

When Doe had finished cleaning the armchair (thank Merlin for magic) she flopped down in it and yawned. “If you’re still really sore, I’ve got another potion I could give you, but once you’re done eating, I’ll give you one that’ll help you sleep.” She said glancing over at him. 

[loyal-saint]

Sergej swallows his bite and looks at her sideways. “Better delusional than feelin’ the pain fer hours...“ He mutters it under his breath, but the smile is ever so slightly tugging at his lips and he can’t help the smalles of twitches of hsi eyebrows. No, those words shouldn’t be taken to seriously. Only a guy like him would make jokes about being beaten up and hour after it happened.

He ate his sandwich in silence, let her talk and after she finished he chewed slowly on the last bite. He didn’t want to add stomach cramps to the mess she had to clean up so he took extra care now. Precaution was the way to go. He was sure of it. At least tonight. Tomorrow would put it all in a different light.

“Nah, am fine.“ Sometimes he felt like this was his standard answer to every Healer and he was ducking his head once for the thought and a second time because for a change - he wasn’t lieing to a Healer. “Hey, dear, you can leave the potion here, I’m going to be a while... you just head on up to your bed and sleep. I can see ya yawnin’.“ He smiled weakly at her trying to shoo her away witha  wave of his hand. “Yer doin’ enough!“

[loyal-saint]

Get them off - Please!?

[porcelaindagger]

Alice dabbed at her eyes with the cloth provided to her by the Healers, watching as they bustled from person to person, pinging between cots like moths to an infinite smattering of flames across the hall. She was still shaking, eyes burning and vision blurring as she searched the hall for Alastor, who had been yanked from her just as they’d both woken up. Her tears had done a wonderful job of clearing the serum mostly from her eyes, ironically enough, and so she could see better than most. 

Of course, what she could see was equal parts embarrassing and horrifying. Those who had been close enough looked at her as if she’d just lost her mind; but they would have lost it too, if they had woken up from a nightmare to find that someone they cared for wouldn’t wake up beside her. Alice’s screams had filled the hall as she shook Alastor, and when he’d finally woken up, she’d thought that her cries would pierce the glass. 

But the Healers had better things to worry about than Alice’s constant search for Alastor, whether or not her constant questions about his condition were cutting in on their ability to care for the others. Better things, for example, like the sound of Sergej scaring them all off with a great bellow from the other side of the atrium. Alice pushed herself off the cot, filled immediately with worry about him- despite knowing that he could obviously take care of himself- carefully making her way forward with her blanket in hand. 

“Here,” Alice removed the cloth from her eye and tucked it in her belt, instead taking to draping her blanket over Sergej’s shoulders, rubbing the tense space between his shoulder blades with tentative gentility, “You seem to be feeling better, at least. They give you anything for the pain?”

[loyal-saint]

He’s still muttering something about incompetent (though he actually means too competent for their own good - at least in his head - ) Healers, when someone drapes a blanket over him. Again. A blanket. Signalling that he was sick. That he needed attention. Sergej almost wanted to blow up again in that someone’s face when all the air leaves him as he looks at Alice. Poor, sweet, unearthed Alice.

With a whooshing sound he huffs another time, looking at her with careful eyes. Licking his lips he tries to find something else to direct at her than the irritation he feels and can’t quite surpress. “I’m fine,“ he clips his words at the end enough to show that he’s as fine as the situation allows. “I don’t need pain medication... nothing’s broken.” The serum still rears its ugly head, giving him a taste of Alice’s face, all beaten up, bloody and with dead eyes.

He feels a headache forming and he tries to rub at his temples, squinting his eyes to maybe distort the image until it leaves him be. He sighs in relieve when he witnesses the surroundings coming back into focus as they should be. Are. No one died tonight. Everyone lived... For a change. Although many swore they had witnessed people dieing and sometimes the Healers were running around reassuring everyone that the person was still alive and well. The confusion was still big.

Sighing again he dares to glance up at Alice for a second time. This time there’s no after effect of the drug. “How ‘bout you? Heard you screamin’...“ And something in his demeanor changes to knowing and he’s not sure how to breach the subject... whatever the subject may be and if Alice wants to take him up on the small change of topic. Sergej still leaves her with an out if she doesn’t want to talk about it.