Date: February 14, 1979
Location: Il Tavolo, Horizont Alley
( @richieroyce )
Valisblot wasn’t something Roman had ever felt strongly about- it wasn’t a day that held any kind of importance or meaning to him. Now, however, he found that he cared even less for the Muggle version of February 14th. Valentine’s day was ridiculous in every conceivable way, down to the gaudy decorations and the overstated proclamations of love through frilly, heart-shaped cards. Roman found the entire concept a little nauseating.
Naturally, he was spending the evening alone.
He’d attended the Ministry’s sacrificial feast, of course- though he hadn’t stayed long. He needed a proper meal- a warm one, at that- and a good, stiff drink. The streets were busy and so he’d slipped into the nearest restaurant with an empty table and stationed himself there, content to be alone. Alone, but surrounded by a crowd of people he’d prefer not to acknowledge.
This proved less easy than he’d hoped when the entire atmosphere of the restaurant shifted. The people around him became more restless following the sound of glass shattering in the street, and after that by the general sounds of growing unrest amongst the crowd outside.
Roman heaved a sigh, drained the last of his whisky, and decided to get up and go investigate. He’d nothing better to do. Another of the restaurant’s patrons had the same idea as him, it seemed, and Roman inclined his head towards the other man as they stepped out of the restaurant together.
“Lovely evening,” he said, as if unaware of the scene they’d just walked out to. The people in the streets all seemed excited, or anxious, hysterical even- Roman took note of it all, but couldn’t discern the source.
He turned on his heel to make his way back into the restaurant. If the night was going to get riotous, he needed to pay the bill for his dinner and head home. And that’s what he would have done, had his muscles not frozen up, all at once.
As his body seized up and he fell backwards, helpless to do otherwise, his brain helpfully informed him that he must have been hit by a stray curse. A body-bind, it mused, this should be fun.
He fell to the ground with a less-than-graceful thud. The back of his head was throbbing where it had hit the cobblestones.
Roman winced and met the eyes of the man now standing above him- he realized, then, that he recognized who it was. Richard Selwyn wasn’t exactly someone he knew well, but Roman was going to need to make fast friends if he wanted any help.
It took some effort before he could get the muscles in his face to move enough to allow him to talk. Even then, it was strained.
“Are you going to stand there and watch while I get trampled to death in the street, or would you mind dragging me somewhere a little safer?” He tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, he really did, but he was loathe to ask for help- especially in a situation like this. “The nearest couch would be preferable, but anywhere away from this crowd will do.”