themaxgoldstein

[themaxgoldstein]

It had been awhile since he saw her last, but if someone crossed him once, it was hard to gain his trust back. There were a lot of people in the world and a wide life worth to live. He didn't want to waste it on giving people more chances. Max was a betting man, but even he knew where his limits were. But from what he remembered, Charity wasn't trouble even though they did get into it in their own ways. "Don't," he said as she started to apologize, already regretting bringing it up. "I probably would've done the same thing." Which wasn't a lie. Every word she described about the other bar was only encouraged old bad habits. Max shook his head with a wry grin around his cigarette before flicking it at the ground. "I'm on the clock," Max said, his eyes also glancing over her. "But let me see what I can do. I'll be back in ten."

Charity let out a dry huff, more smoke than laugh. “Yeah, no small talk—wouldn’t suit you,” she said, flicking ash off her cigarette. She glanced over at him, bold as ever. “Didn’t say goodbye ‘cause I didn’t want it to end. Saying it would’ve made it real. And I’m bloody useless with emotions, always have been. You got the cut-and-run version." She shrugged, unapologetic. “Be pissed if you need to be. But I didn’t disappear because it meant nothing.”

The cigarette burned low between her fingers as she stepped off the wall, half-turned toward him. “Anyway, I’m not here to hash it out. Just needed a smoke and ran into a ghost who still looks good for someone that bitter.” A grin tugged at her lips. “I live nearby. There’s a hidden pub under Aldwych Station—old dueling circle, no permits, definitely off-registry. Thought I’d break in, maybe start some trouble.” A pause. “You coming, Ace? Or holding onto a grudge tighter than your wand?”

[themaxgoldstein]

Max was still convincing himself that it was an apparition standing beforehand wearing the same face and sounding how Rose would sound. No. Flick. Even the memory of the betrayal found a way to still sit in the pit of his stomach. He would consider himself a no-nonsense person, good at reading people, but she had always been different. That first night, he couldn't get into her head. That had never happened. Everything that happened afterwards was the closest he had to love. Now, it felt like a grim, cold reminder of his internal defeat. A weakness preserved like a rose in winter. Max was shaking his head, wishing this conversation had happened a few months ago. Not now. "Okay, fine. You used another name. Doesn't explain all the other lies, does it?"

"I do." She admitted, unable to tell him anything but the truth. After all that time lying to him it only seemed fair. It was a simple truth, an easy admission. There were still secrets between them after all. Flick didn't plan on telling him about Anthony. Not when he clearly didn't want anything to do with her.

"You work here." Flick repeated. She would have to figure out his schedule, see if she could avoid him as much as possible. Or maybe come see him. Honestly she hadn't quite decided. "I did tell you. My name is Felicity, Flick for short if you'd like. Rose is one of my middle names, so it wasn't too far from the truth."

[themaxgoldstein]

Max only nodded in response, appreciating the honest feedback but feeling like he was cheating slightly. It was turning out that bartending was the perfect way to blend into society and pick up on their dialect and information. People were often too self-absorbed to notice someone overhearing them on a good day let alone a legilimens in their proximity. Sadly, Max hadn't gained any valuable information save for getting some restaurant recommendations and hearing about other scandals. "My schedule is wide open so just let me know when you need me," he said. The answer to her question was more complicated and one that he was still trying to figure out. Instead, he leaned against the counter as she leaned against the door and shrugged. "Needed a change of scenery or pace. Thought this would be a good start, plus I have some family here, which helps." He nodded at her. "Speaking of family, I met your brother. He has a tab, right?"

"It is my way to say thank you," Ros confirmed to the man in front of her. She wasn't big on giving compliments, she knew that. She leaned against the doorpost when she was asked about the previous cook that she had. "Unfortunately not everyone is able to live out and free these days. That also means that sometimes, you have to give up your life or work." It had been an hard loss but the American in front of her was a good solution to the problem. "How about you... Why did you cross the ocean? I don't think I've asked that yet."

[themaxgoldstein]

location: madhuri's & max's apartment closed @xmaddyscamanderx

It was late and he had only been back at the apartment for a few hours. When he decided to make a move to the country, he didn't expect to run into an ex-girlfriend, and maybe that was being too polite for what he and Flick were. Or are. HE didn't know and was trying to find a semblance of an answer in the bottle on the coffee table. It was a cliche for the bartender to be home with a drink. The good thing with sleeping on his cousin's couch was that it came with front row access to the television. The door opened, and he lifted his gaze only briefly to Maddy. "I got some food to go for you from the bar. It's in the fridge."

[themaxgoldstein]

He handed over more information than she asked, knowing that she would only prod for more information. This was the first time he was a bartender, knowing how to brew his own drinks pretty well, and having spent enough time at bars to watch bartenders do it. It was because of the last few days that incredibly drunk patrons became more talkative and as a bartender, he got better tips if he pretended to care. But it was a slow night, not as loud as the others, and she seemed to genuinely consider him good company. "It's alright. Kind of like here, but there's more sun. I just wanted a break from the city and something new. And they speak English here, so saves me time learning a new language. Are you friends coming for your birthday?"

The witch didn’t could tell he wasn’t the most sociable person out there, but at the very least he was making good drinks and that was all she needed that night. “Why thank you!” Marlene exclaimed enthusiastically, a pleased grin growing on her lips, as the wizard told her that drink was on the house. He caught her interest, though, as he mentioned where he was from. “Oh, I’ve never been to the States. I’ve heard of New York, is it good?” A thought popped up in her mind, tilting her head to the side. “What brought you over to the UK?”

[themaxgoldstein]

Max could tell that the other man walked into here with a lot of weight that he was hoping to pour out between several glasses. He didn't know who the other bartender was for offering several drinks. If he were honest, the last two were out of sympathy and weren't even ones that he asked for. "Needed a change of scenery," he said, which was less than half the truth. Max's family were proactive when it came to wars and he told his parents that he would participate in some way, but once he got there, he lacked the ability to find out more information. There it was. It hit him with some surprise, but Max should've realized it sooner. Maybe there were nights that Anthony consumed more drinks than tonight. "Yeah, nice to meet you," he nods. "Something going on that you want to talk about or are you just a big fan of whiskey? I'm not your sister, but I can try."

"No worries, mate. I get it." Anthony flumped his head into his hand. A sigh of resignation when the man in front of him candidly told him that it was one more and then out. He understood, of course, the bartender wanted to go home. Anthony would have been of a similar train of thought but the last place that Anthony wanted to return to was his flat, that dreaded flat, where he kept recounting his conversation with Mira over and over.

"That's quite the change, what brings you to London?" He perked up, grateful for some other topic of thought. "Often enough, Ros is my sister. I'm Anthony Abbott, pleasure." Albeit his tone was slightly slurred.

[themaxgoldstein]

There had been a time that Max would've done anything she had wanted or asked of him. Max had never felt that deeply about someone or anything before. He was reminded of the cold searing rejection she left him with. She was just another beautiful and hopeful thing that left. There had been years that stood between them, enough time for a normal person to think of this moment and what they would do. Only silence bubbled up inside his chest, chased quickly with resentment. "You dream about me?" he asked, skipping over the negative words that held space. "You don't get to ask questions like you care. I work here," he supplied anyway with a shrug. There was a shallow part of him that was glad to see her, his eyes glancing over her features to see if anything had changed. "What name are you going by now? Or is something new?"

London’s wixen community should’ve been large enough that they could���ve avoided each other longer. They should have avoided each other longer. She wasn’t ready for this. How long had he been here? Surely he hadn’t followed her over as soon as he was able. That would be ludicrous.

“Not a dream then, you’re much ruder in my dreams.” She said, still half unsure this was real. “How long have you been here? Why are you here at all?”

[themaxgoldstein]

The night air, initially calming, now felt like a threat. How could it be so pleasant when he was staring at a face from his past? This city was surely big enough to avoid such inconveniences, yet fate, it seemed, found their predicament amusing. "I'm not asking for a goodbye or a reason or an apology," he stated, shaking his head. A spark reignited within him, his body abruptly shrugging off the paralysis that had taken hold before she’d spoken. His initial responses had been stunted by surprise, but now, a cool detachment settled back in. "Like what? A truce?" he asked, exhaling a deliberate cloud of smoke towards her. "I'm not good at small talk. Don't expect me to ask how your life has been."

It didn't take an expert to figure out things were alright between the two at all, he didn't take lightly to her leaving in the middle of the night nor did she know exactly why it'd piss him off that badly. A heaved out sigh before she took the cigarette up to her lips, the blonde breathed in, letting the silence drag between them or a while longer-- it was comfortable and it wasn't all at the same time. "I'm still not apologizing, I didn't want to say goodbye, that's all." Charity allowed with a light chuckle. "I've issues with the whole experiencing emotions or hugging it out. That's just who I am. But I'm fun and I made that nickname up, so why don't you just give me another chance here?"

[themaxgoldstein]

Max had been taking care of the other side of the bar when the woman came in, glancing up as she didn't seem like any of the other women from that night. He was already approaching her when he caught onto one of her last thoughts. It wasn't the first time a patron deferred to his selections, and he usually just had one cocktail he gave to all of them. They were always happy. It never mattered what the cocktail was; it was just so they weren't left with making their own choices. Max came back with a cocktail. "French 75, hope you like it. And if you don't, I can get you another one."

Any night spent at The Three Broomsticks was a night not spent at the White Wyvern and that alone was reason to consider the whole idea to be odd. Emmeline had never been one to venture outside of habits, outside what she considered normal – and this place certainly wasn’t it. Her eyes rolled with annoyance, less for the one in front of her and more for the fact that she’d been avoiding the mundane after her return from Italy. Anything but the things that felt like home.

“Keep it open. Pour me something you’d recommend!” A request, voice calm and steady as she voiced her thoughts. When was her mind not a jumbled mess of calculated risks. “So, what do you recommend?” - @themaxgoldstein

[themaxgoldstein]

Max should've known that it was her birthday as she had checked her permits before. He was usually the person on the other end of the bar counter, ordering drinks and getting drunk off of them. It was probably in his best interest to make it a habit of looking at people's ages and birthdays. "Oh, right," he said, not sharing the same excitement, but nodded at her next drink. "I guess that one's on the house then." Max also wasn't sure if he should be handing out drinks so precariously. Maybe he shouldn't be a bartender. "States. New York. Brooklyn. Buschwick. Off Broadway."

He wasn't the best bartender she could've gotten for her birthday, but at least he offered something different. It made her want to know him better, curiosity getting the best of her. His accent alone brought too many questions to her head, some she would get the answers to before the night came to an end. "Oh, it's my birthday, so just keep 'em coming!" The blonde exclaimed, clasping her hands as though it was all too lovely, and it had been so indeed if she only ignored the ever present pain on her chest. "So, the States or Canada?" Marlene wondered at last, a smile on her lips, galleons placed on top of the bar for him to grab.

[themaxgoldstein]

The night was winding down and Max was already to get the place ready to close. The first step was always asking people to leave, but his method was to act subtly passive towards the guests until they got the hint. Max raised a brow at the guest who said he was keeping it open. "Alright. One more, then it's time." Max chose not to push the guest out since he came in looking sad and he didn't want to add to the misery. "New to the country," he corrected. "Come here often?"

Anthony hadn't slept in days, his eyes were practically closing as he sat at the bar. But as soon his head was hitting the pillow in the evening, Anthony was wide awake. Swirling the melting ice cube around in the glass, watching as the water combined with the whiskey. He looked up curiously at the sound a new voice, an American at that, working in his sisters bar. "Yeah, I'm keeping it open." His voice hoarse as he spoke, well aware that if Rosmerta was here that he would be cut off already. "New to the bar, mate?"

[themaxgoldstein]

It would probably be immature to carry a grudge that spanned a couple of years and an ocean, but Max stared back at her with questions wanting to rise to the surface. Why did she leave? Why didn't she come back? Why did she never even send a note or an owl or whatever the English use? They had their fun, so there was no reason to believe she would be there one day and gone the next. "I don't think you were going to give an apology at all," he said. Even if she did hand over an apology, Max didn't know if he would be so willing to accept it. "Ace is what my friends call me," he says instead. "I'm good on adventures."

Never had she expected to see him again, prompting her leaving unannounced in the middle of the night, no actual goodbye uttered in hopes to keep the last page of their story an open ending. Had she known there’d be a future for them, whatever it was, things would’ve indeed been different. “Fate is wicked.” The blonde murmured with a shrug of her shoulders, at least that’s what she thought Sybill would say. Taking another long drag from her cigarette, the witch took a step closer, leaning against the wall by his side. “So I won’t apologize for how I left,” Charity began with a low hum, turning her head to look at him, a small smile lingering on her lips. “I did what I thought best at the time. But we had a good while, don’t you think so? Perhaps I could interest you in a British adventure this time around, Ace.”

[themaxgoldstein]

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[themaxgoldstein]

It was a confirmation that she wasn't a ghost when their fingers brushed against each other for only a moment. It had been a year or longer, so there shouldn't be a reason to harbor any feelings about it. The idea of moving to England was starting to prove itself to be one of his worst ideas. There were only a couple of people in the country he knew, and none he wanted to personally see. There was the hope, though. Max backed up against the wall until he was leaning against the brick for support. "Oh, I remember," he says flatly, nodding. There had been no decorum when she left one morning and never came back. Even if it wasn't serious, he thought he was worth a proper goodbye. He convinced himself it didn't matter. "I live here. As of a few weeks ago."

The shock was clearly shared and equally well disguised, unexpected as it was to be running into each other, at least she could not let it show just how much it all seemed to stirr something in her. Their adventures was short-lived but definitely worth remembering, some of the most thrilling experiences had been alongside him, perhaps it was so because it had an expiration date since the very beginning. Whatever the reason, Charity could not deny to herself that a spark lit within, curious and tempted to see how things would unravel looking forward. Was he on a visit, should she indulge him with english adventures that could be on a par with the american ones? Or was he here for another reason, one that would imply a change to their dynamic? Only time would tell, if they had any.

The witch stepped closer, fingers just grazing his as she took a cigarette out of the pack, wand out for a split second to light it up before it was put away. A drag taken, the familiar weight a small comfort in her fingers, it was as though she was back in the busy streets of New York, steps quick as they tried to disuade the wizards tracking them-- fun times. A small sigh escaped her as the familiar ritual eased a subtle tension she hadn't even realized she was carrying. Only then did she look up, a soft chuckle leaving her lips as a unapologetic grin took to her lips. "I never really did have them in the first place." Another drag, she was once more getting used to the soft burn in her throat and the wave of warmth that seemed to unfurl through her chest, she owed him that at least. "I live here, Ace, what are you doing here?" She questioned instead, eyes reflecting her piqued interest, more than just one question asked even if not yet voiced.

[themaxgoldstein]

It was the time of the night where it was getting closer to being able to close and Max had been looking forward to it. The night had been slow enough for him to believe someone put a curse on the place. Max was happy when one of the people closed their tab and collected themselves to leave, not caring to look up as he was already too eager to clear the bar. He wasn't expecting someone to come in and when he finally dragged his gaze up, he stilled. What the fuck. Max left New York behind and many things with it, including any careless reminders of Rose. No. Felicity. It was a dumb decision to move to the very city she's from, but what were the odds that he would bump into the woman who put a knife in his back? In another populated city? Clearly zero to one. Max didn't even realize he snapped the glass in his hand that he was still holding until his finger stung from the cut. Maybe someone did curse this place. Max didn't even hear what she said. "No," he said, shaking his head and grabbing a damp rag for his hand. "Get out, no, this isn't happening." He had lived in a city without her before and he was more than happy to do it again.

Realistically, Flick knew that an afternoon away from her infant son wouldn't actually hurt either of them, but it still itched at her not to have Anthony close. When her mother had insisted she leave the house for a few hours Flick had known better than to put up a fuss. Now, staring at the face of the man she'd been trying and failing to forget for twelve months, two weeks, and four days (but who was counting, really), Flick wished she'd staid home.

He was still so handsome. Anthony had his eyes. And his nose.

"This isn't Brooklyn." She said, well aware it was an idiotic way to greet the man whose heart she'd trampled. "Is this a very odd, tragic dream?"

[themaxgoldstein]

His family would probably find it hilarious that he was working at a tavern. For one, it was surrounded by people -- which was already a setup for a bad joke to those who knew him. Another reason was that where there were people, there were heads full of thoughts and even worse, drunk ones. Max was trying not to pay attention to one couple at the end of the bar, both thinking polar opposite thoughts of each other, when a woman cut through his line of vision. "We don't normally, but sure. In a rush? Special is soup, so doesn't really keep well. You still want to?"

Alara needed a brief escape from the bustle of the bakery, just long enough to clear her head and grab a bite. She slipped into the Three Broomsticks, the familiar warmth and low chatter offering a welcome reprieve. Waiting patiently as the other wrapped up with the patron's, she stepped forward with a gentle smile.

"Would I be able to order something to go?" she asked, her tone polite but light. "What’s the special today?"

[themaxgoldstein]

"Yeah, look at that," he said, not finding it as impressive as she did. Max was finding out that it was better not to piss off customers to get better tips, so he simmered his boredom with most people. He looked back over to her after sliding her next drink to her, weighing the question. There was probably no harm in accepting more tips if it meant indulging her in a conversation she probably wouldn't remember. "Sure, celebrating something?"

"Max, see that, we've both got names that start with an M." The blonde made a half-assed joke as she focused on her drink, listening to the wizard speak. He was kind of a cynic it seemed and for some reason Marlene couldn't help but find it an attractive trait, at least when it came to holding an interesting conversation rather than the usual. "Would a bigger tip grant me an actual conversation?"