shoot me down. [titus]

[celeste trista aurelia]

[classy=celtext3][classy=celicon3][/classy]"C'mon, lady, why don't we spend a little time an' get to know each other?"

Well, wasn't he a persistent one. Was it just her, or did the inhabitants of Knockturn get more and more brazen as time dragged on? Normally, a few 'no thank yous' or 'please leave me alones,' coupled with a few unamused stares were enough to at least have them pause for long enough for her to slip into Yank's, or at least to shake them off. This time, she found herself facing a pair of decently-dressed men who reeked of alcohol. "You shouldn't drink if you cannot keep your wits about you," she sighed. (Men could be such irritating pigs sometimes.) The woman attempted to push through them, feeling nothing but irritation. The longer she was held up here, the more crowded her favorite pub would be; she did not fancy having to wade through crowds just to reach the counter.

Then one of the men tried to grab her arm, and that was it. She'd had enough. One of her hands flew to his throat, the other smoothly pulling out her wand. The tip of her wand hovered between the man's eyes. "Leave, darling." Her voice wasn't threatening; it was as if she were simply commenting on the weather, or saying 'oh, the kneazle population has grown again.' Her hand, however, tightened on his throat. His companion glanced between his friend and the woman, and apparently decided that fleeing the scene was the best idea. "Mm, smart man," she commented, averting her gaze to watch him run away. "How about you?" Celeste's voice dropped to a murmur. "Shall you leave me alone and go back to your little hellhole, or shall I convince you a little longer?" The woman was not in a good mood, and he knew it. His eyes widened as her grip tightened even further -- then she abruptly let go and he staggered back with a gasp. He sent one more terrified glance at the woman before running away.

"How uncouth," the woman sighed. Perhaps she had been rough, but she was sure that her little display was enough to make even the bravest drunkards leave her alone -- at least for a little while. Celeste did not want to get accosted by idiots every time she decided to walk through Knockturn. She finally reached her destination, rolling her eyes when she heard the babble of chatter from inside. It seemed as if she was delayed enough for the bar's rush hour to start. The professor shook her head sadly, then pushed open the door.

She weaved through the mess of people to reach the counter, quickly snagging a recently vacated stool before someone else could take it from her. Celeste glanced around, impatiently tapping her fingers on the countertop. It didn't look like Charlie was in today. Instead, there was the other bartender -- Tidus? No, Titus ... something-or-other. Celeste sighed, waiting. She needed a few drinks to make her previous encounter a bit more bearable; the more she thought about it at present, the more irritated she was becoming.

ooc: for titus! sorry about the delay. "orz[/classy][newclass=celtext3]font-size: 10px; width: 350px; text-align: justify[/newclass][newclass=celtext3 b]font-weight: bold; color: #664477[/newclass][newclass=celicon3]float: left; margin: 5 8 1 0; border: 3px solid #664477;[/newclass]

[titus etienne baudelaire]

[classy=writeus]he had time. wednesdays and thursdays were days spent in front of the desk, a piece of parchment laid out before him and a worn quill he never bothered to change. the dried ink blotches on the desk reminded him of his failure to write a decent article in recent times; money was getting tighter, his editors didn't seem happy, and the bar only seemed like more and more work for a tired man. lethargic and somewhat bored, titus spied the clock ticking away the corner of his room and decided to get ready for his shift at the bar -- he was due in ten minutes.

with a crack, he disapparated from his room and appeared in the storage room of yank's, the bar at which he worked. he took a brief moment to steady himself - apparating was an art he never bothered to fully grasp, other than ensuring he lost nothing while moving - before scaling the stairs that led up from the room to the main bar.

like always, the place was packed with people; it came as no surprise to titus that a few regulars were already waiting by the counter for their drinks to be served. he knew them well; he remembered what they liked to drink, as well as the little things that no one bothered to remember, yet were often said when someone had a little too much to drink -- and think about on any given night. he glanced over as a stool was soon vacated by a man who'd decided he had too much to drink.

thanks. titus smiled and nodded at the man as he rose from his seat to leave the counter. he received a nod in return, but it could just as easily have been something done while buzzed. no one knew the bartender behind the counter, no one remembered their face besides the drinks and sorrow that they have that night. it was precisely this that made him enjoy this job; internally, he made fun of himself for thinking this job was a chore -- because really, it wasn't.

he turned, and as soon as his back faced the counter, celeste came up. he knew her only by extension through charlie, the owner of yank's. he knew she was a professors at hogwarts as well, but what subject wasn't his to know. he kept to his policy of knowing and remembering only what was told to him, and nothing more than that.

celeste, right? his voice floated over the din of the bar as a few customers raised their voices and started talking animatedly, due to their being drunk. on the house. he slipped a glass of paradise across to the professor. the edges of his mouth quirked upwards in a smile as he started mixing another drink while making small talk to another customer who'd showed up at the bar for a drink; as soon as they left, he turned back to her. just forget about whatever it is, celeste. irritation is ill-suited to you.

[/classy]

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[celeste trista aurelia]

[classy=celtext3][classy=celicon3][/classy]Her eyes flashed when she heard her name -- she was going to hex someone at this rate -- before she realized that it was the bartender and not some pesky drunkard. She raised an eyebrow at him. As far as she knew, they had never been on any other terms than bartender and customer, but perhaps knowing who his customers were was a part of his job. "Yes, that's me," she confirmed, blinking in surprise when he pushed the glass across the counter. She took the drink, but he had turned away and started talking to another customer before the woman had the chance to thank him.

Sipping the drink, Celeste let her eyes roam about the crowded bar. As usual, there were youngsters -- most likely recent graduates -- who seemed entirely content with making fools of themselves and attempting to impress any female who caught their eye. (She normally wouldn't have paid any attention to them, but today was different. Today, she had to fight the urge to glue their tongues to the roof of their mouths.)

Then, of course, there were those who drank constantly to drown their troubles with alcohol. Celeste sniffed. How worthless. Bemoaning the past and ignoring the future, choosing to forget it all and waste life away -- she couldn't think of any less interesting way to spend her time. (Then again, wasn't she here to drink and forget about those stupid men outside?) The brunette found herself in a rare moment of contemplation, absentmindedly drinking her cocktail, when she heard her name again.

She was a bit surprised to see him address her again, but Celeste laughed nonetheless. "What makes you say that, I wonder?" she mused. "I don't believe we're all that acquainted with each other." His words brought her back to reality, however. He was right -- she went through life with a laugh and a smile, no matter what happened. Being all gloomy and depressed was entirely unlike her.

Lifting her glass, she grinned. "In any case, thank you for the drink." Celeste finished it off, then regarded the bartender with a critical eye. She had never really taken any particular interest in him before -- he was only there to mix drinks, after all -- but, upon closer inspection, he was quite the looker. (Of course, she would only put that little bit of information away for later.)

The more she thought about it, the more interesting things seemed; Celeste was usually well-acquainted with those who worked in the bars she frequented, but this man had somehow remained a mystery to her. Even the other bar-goers didn't seem to talk about him much. Other than the fact that he was a bartender (obviously), the brunette knew next to nothing about him.

Celeste ordered another drink, then added, "You are Titus, correct?" She smiled wryly. "I would introduce myself as well, but it seems you already know my name." The woman chuckled. "Just out of curiosity, what else do you know about me?"

ooc: for titus![/classy]

[titus etienne baudelaire]

[classy=writeus]i notice quite a lot. maybe more than i ought to -- for that, i apologize. his smile was easy, relaxing as he poured himself a mixture of several liquors and sipped the concoction gently. refreshing, but slightly bitter. he'd slighted a little too much of the second type, it seemed. still, he kept his smile upon his face as he watched celeste. he knew her more than the other patrons because of charlie; he made mention of her occasionally, but not too often. most of what he knew came from observation -- celeste frequented the bar rather often, after all. if you're still curious, i believe that you're usually a happier person. laughing, chatting. he turned away at this, and placed his glass into the chiller under the bar counter.

he resurfaced. ah, you're welcome. as long as you enjoy it. there he went again, saying those words to the customers whom he decided needed a little cheering up. they didn't remember the deed, but that didn't really matter to titus. he was fine just knowing that the drink might have made a difference, any difference -- credit didn't matter. he already wrote articles for the paper under a pseudonym, refused contact with his family, lived life under the guise of someone else's skin. he didn't need to take credit.

hm, i am. amusement twinkled in his eyes as he raised a hand in greeting to a regular customer who had settled at the opposite end of the bar. titus baudelaire, but i suppose you weren't curious about that. he lifted two chilled glasses from their racks, and tilted them slightly while filling them. the man didn't enjoy too many bubbles in their beer; there were the odd ones who did, but not him. he remembered the little things -- things people wouldn't. i know ... well. he paused, switching the glasses deftly.

i don't know. suppose my statements ring false, celeste. i don't know everything. the glasses clinked against each other as he set them on coasters by the man from before. he sighed, then glanced over his shoulder, an apologetic smile spreading across his features. i apologize if i offend you, but. he chuckled, making his way back to the woman and retrieving his own drink. i'm willing to play this game -- what do you know about me?

i'll go first. you're a professor at hogwarts, teaching ... hmm. definitely not magical creatures or anything that requires you to get out there in the sun, or laborious physical activity. that removes herbology, and your nails indicate that you don't do much heavy writing. probably not arithmancy or ancient runes -- you're interesting, so i wouldn't put my money on history of magic, either. mcgonagall and slughorn teach transfiguration and potions respectively, so that's not it either.

charms, astronomy, or divination. he paused to think, but not to give in. celeste didn't strike him as one who enjoyed research, but books shouldn't be judged by their covers. he pushed on. i don't think you're a seer, and dumbledore wouldn't hire anyone but the qualified. not divination, then. so -- charms or astronomy? i'll put your next drink on astronomy. satisfied with his deduction, he excused himself from her presence, and turned to chat with other customers, laughing at their jokes and returning their comments with equal wit.[/classy]

[celeste trista aurelia]

[classy=celtext3][classy=celicon3][/classy]"No, no," she said, waving her hand through the air. "There's no need to apologize." It flattered her, to have him notice. She didn't think he knew he was stroking her already-inflated ego, but she didn't mind. The woman laughed at his observation of her. "Happier person," she echoed. Well, he wasn't wrong -- even when things were tough, Celeste made it a point to continue to laugh. After all, smiles could take her places that a scowl wouldn't. (The more you smiled, the more people liked you; the more people liked you, the more you could get away with things you wouldn't be able to otherwise.) Taking things too seriously was a flaw that Celeste boasted about not having. Most of the time.

She watched him move around the bar, noting both his technique and skill. He was certainly a good bartender, she would give him that. "Titus Baudelaire," Celeste mused. "I wasn't, but it's nice to know." It was nice to know who she was speaking to. The woman shrugged, a slow smile creeping across her face. "Shall I correct my statement, then?" she said, amused. "What do you think you know, hm? Don't worry about offending me -- I'm a big girl." Celeste doubted he could ruffle any of her feathers, in any case. It would simply be interesting to know how this man saw her.

Celeste's smile spread when he agreed to answer her question while posing one of his own. The woman listened to him, laughing every now and then. "I'm flattered to know that you think I'm interesting," she said. He was right, of course -- all of his words were spot-on. The more he spoke, the more interested she became. It was clear that he was not just any run-of-the-mill man, living day by day. Tidus Baudelaire, the woman thought to herself. I shall remember him. It wasn't every day that someone this intriguing crossed her path.

He finished his line of reasoning, and Celeste clapped. It took a lot to impress her, but she was certainly impressed. "Very good," she said, pleased. The woman let him walk away to attend to other customers while she mulled it over in her mind. Now that he had finished, it was her turn. The brunette watched him chat with the others at the bar, pulling up everything she could remember about him -- as little as it was. She recalled the few times she had seen him previously in the bar, even if they had never had a conversation, and searched her memory for any mention of him.

Once she was fairly certain she had consolidated everything she knew about him in her mind, Celeste waved him over. "So," she sighed. "This is hardly a fair competition, but I suppose I'll try. Shall I begin?" Celeste rested her arms on the counter, looking at the man. "Let's start with the basics. You clearly know what you're doing when it comes to this job, and it doesn't appear as if you dislike it. Is it safe to assume that you've been in this business for a while?" She glanced around. "After all, you go to enough trouble to remember things about your customers -- such as whether or not they prefer having bubbles in their drink." She glanced at the man who had been served earlier, then back at Titus. "You also recognize which customers joke around and which do not -- you cater to them; not only to their palettes, but to their personalities." His conversation with the other customers had made that much quite clear to her.

"Obviously, you're intelligent -- I wouldn't be having this conversation with you otherwise -- and, as you've said before, you notice things." Celeste grinned. "Indeed, perhaps more than you ought to." The woman gestured at herself. "You were correct about me teaching astronomy, although your line of reasoning only lends itself to more questions than answers."

"Not many people notice as much as you; honestly, my nails?" Celeste rolled her eyes. "Those kinds of observational skills are not honed by simply being a humble bartender -- but I have no alternative ideas, so I suppose it's a moot point." The woman eyed him, raising an eyebrow. "Again, you know quite a bit about your customers, and they seem entirely willing to speak to you -- about themselves, especially." The woman laughed. "Then again, it might be simply because they're drunk. You listen and remember, but you're an enigma. You don't speak about yourself much, do you? There perhaps isn't a single person currently in this bar, other than yourself, who could definitively say what your hobbies are, or your interests." Celeste had certainly never overheard any conversation when the man divulged any personal information of his own accord. "Well, other than this job."

The woman leaned back and sighed. "Unfortunately, there isn't much else I can think of to say about you. There isn't exactly a goldmine of information to draw from." She shrugged. "Correct or incorrect, darling?"

ooc: for titus! it was interesting to write this, to say the least. I don't think cel has ever said this much in my mind before. |D (if there are problems, please tell me! ;; )[/classy]

[titus etienne baudelaire]

[classy=writeus]he never thought that she would accept his challenge, but the fact that she did damn well made it interesting for him. people generally preferred to be talked about -- but not celeste, apparently. she took and gave it both in equal measures. he was relatively confident that she wouldn't know much about him, but in hindsight, he had left out a fair few hints as to his origin during his deduction. a few missed words, and an immense amount of regret; titus, however, was determined to not let it get to him.

he returned to celeste as she waved him over. pity, though; the conversation between the other patrons was just starting to take an interesting turn. however, people weren't apt to forget a twist in events that quickly -- he was certain that they would be willing to provide him a recap, provided he appeared concerned enough.

a chuckle escaped his lips as he listened to celeste. intelligent? no, he wouldn't consider himself intelligent -- observant, and saddled with the ability to transform himself into anyone. it made him notice more things than the average person, especially where appearances were concerned. he knew the exact answer why he noticed something as trivial as nails, but he let the topic pass; hopefully, celeste wouldn't continue pursuing along that line of thought.

his smile was slightly apologetic, almost regretful as she spoke. was he that much of an enigma -- perhaps he was, for he was a listener and observer, and nothing else.

i will have to decline that compliment about being intelligent -- observing is merely seeing harder, more carefully; it's not an innate ability ... just more concentration and effort. it is rather difficult to miss the nails, fingers and hands that handle my glasses and mugs, is all. longer nails tend to leave scratches on wooden surfaces. a smile -- he meant no offense.

i'm surprised. have i been so tight-lipped about my interests?

my interests are in liquor and bartending -- that is precisely why i'm here, catering to the crowd. mixing drinks and enchanting them magically has always been an interesting job, and with new brews bubbling away in an underground basement, there's no dearth of drinks to try, or new concoctions to think of. i'm not as professional or as well-versed as charlie is, but suffice to say, if you're interested in your line of work, it's more of a hobby than a real job.

so yes, i suppose you are correct. a pity enigmas aren't as interesting once they aren't enigmatic anymore, don't you think?

by now, he'd settled on a stool before the professor. his smile was no longer apologetic, nor was it confident -- it was somewhat amused, almost pleased that someone had at long last, attempted to pry into his life. he supposed he was falling into the same trap that had snared many of his customers: the thrill of being figured out, the idea of not being able to hide forever, the expectation of being caught, and last, but not least, the sense of rest when the chase ended.

let's step this up a little. what is your boggart -- if you'd like, maybe i can infer ... something from it. of course, if you're uncomfortable -- smoothly, he slipped her a mug of firewhiskey, the corner of his lips pulled back in a smirk, as if daring celeste to drink it and tell him everything.[/classy]